Tom, Dick and Harry Part 52

Tempest waited motionless for a few uncomfortable moments, in the hope that Crofter would pluck up spirit to accept the challenge. But, as Crofter only smiled, he turned on his heel and strode out of the room.

As he pa.s.sed me, he beckoned me imperiously to follow him. I did so in terror.

He put a piece of paper and a pen before me.

"Write down there an account of every bill you paid, and the amount."

I obeyed--my memory fortunately served me for the task.

"Now go. You've had the satisfaction of seeing me make an a.s.s of myself in striking that cad--he's not worth it. You may go and tell him I'm sorry if you like. As for you, I don't want to see any more of you. Go to your captain, and leave me alone."

And he flung himself miserably into his chair, leaning forward with his head on his hands, and apparently indifferent whether I stayed or went.

I went, leaving him thus. And the memory of him sitting there haunted me all that night and for weeks to come.

When, next day, the news went round that Tempest had escaped expulsion, the general delight was tempered with amazement at the rumour which accompanied it, that he owed his escape to Crofter. No one but Crofter himself could have put the latter story into circulation, and to any one knowing the two seniors as well as I did, it was obvious that what had completed the humiliation of one had been the crowning triumph of the other.

Crofter could not have avenged himself for the insults of the term more effectively; and Tempest's proud nature could not have suffered a bitterer wound than to know that he had been put under an obligation in spite of himself, and without the possibility of preventing it, by his worst enemy.

The ordinary "Sharper" could hardly be expected to trouble himself about questions of motive. It was sufficient for him that his hero was saved, and that the credit of the popular act which saved him belonged to Crofter.

Consequently both were cheered equally when they appeared in public, and of the two Crofter accepted his popularity with a far better grace than his mortified adversary.

But it was all very miserable to me as I slunk home that afternoon in the train. All the hopes of the wonderful term had been disappointed.

I was a recognised dunce and idler at Low Heath. I had lost my best friend and sold myself to his enemy. My self-respect was at a low ebb.

I knew that in a post or two would come a report which would bring tears to my mother's eyes, and cause my guardian to grunt and say, "I expected as much." The worst of it was, I could not get it out of my head yet that I was rather a fine young fellow if only people knew it, and that my misfortunes were more to blame for the failure of the term than my faults.

To my relief a letter came early in the holidays from d.i.c.ky Brown's people, asking me to spend the last two weeks with them, I jumped at it, for in my present miserable frame of mind even home was dismal.

But when I found myself back at Low Heath, installed in d.i.c.ky's quiet little family circle, I was almost sorry I had come. For d.i.c.ky was all high spirits and jubilation. He had won a form prize; everything had gone swimmingly for him. The Urbans looked up to him; the head master had patted him on the back; the Redwoods had taken a fancy to him. No one thought of calling him by a feminine nickname.

"I think Low Heath's a ripping place," said he, as we strolled past the gate of the empty quadrangle in one of our holiday rambles. "I'm jolly glad we got kicked out of Dangerfield, ain't you?"

"Middling," said I; "the fact is, d.i.c.ky, you may as well know it, but I'm rather sick of this place."

"Hullo!" said he, looking at me, "why, I thought you were having such a high old time."

"I--I've come a bit of a howler, d.i.c.ky;" here I gulped ominously, much to d.i.c.ky's concern. "I've fooled things rather, you know." I was in for my confession now, and gave the penitent horse his head. "I'm jolly miserable, d.i.c.ky, that's all about it, and wish I was dead, don't you know, and that sort of thing."

"What's up, old chappie?" said d.i.c.ky, taking my arm, and evidently in a fright lest I should compromise myself by breaking down on the spot.

"Come down by the willows; it's rather muddy, but it's quieter."

So we ploughed through the mud under the willows, and I let out on d.i.c.ky all that was in my heart. I'm sure he thought it a lot of bosh, but he was too kind to say so, and hung on to my arm, and never once contradicted me when I called myself a fool.

"You have rotted it a bit," remarked he, when the story was complete.

"Never mind, old chap, it can't be helped. You'll worry through all right."

This was true comfort. If d.i.c.ky had been a prig like me, he would have tried to talk to me like a father, and driven me crazy. It made all the difference that he understood me, and yet believed in me a little.

"It strikes me," said he, with refreshing candour, "you fancy yourself a bit too much, Tommy. I'd advise you to lie low a bit, and it will all come round."

"That's just exactly what Tempest said to me the first day of term,"

said I, with a groan.

"There you are," said he; "bless you, you're not going to get done over one wretched term, are you? I wouldn't if I were you."

"But all the chaps are down on me."

"What do you care?" said he, with a snort. "Who cares twopence about the lot of them--chaps like them too? You're a cut better than that lot, I fancy--ought to be, anyhow."

What balm it all was to my wounds! What miles of mud we ploughed through that afternoon I and how, as the water gradually leaked into my boots, my heart rose out of them, and got back somehow to its proper place, and enabled me to look at things in their proper light. I think d.i.c.ky, little as he knew it, was sent by G.o.d to help me pull myself together, and I shall always think better of him for his blunt, genuine encouragement that day.

On our way back he pulled up at Redwood's door.

"Let's see if he's in," said he; "he won't mind."

"All right," said I, beginning to quail again a little, and yet determined to go through with the whole business.

Redwood was in, mending a pair of skates, in antic.i.p.ation of a day or two's frost before the holidays were over.

"Look here, Redwood," said d.i.c.ky, determined to make things easy for me.

"Old Jones minimus is in the blues. He's been fooling it rather this term, you know, but he's a bit sick of it, and we thought you'd like to know, didn't we, young Jones minimus?"

"Yes, if you don't mind, Redwood," said I.

"Wait a bit--tea's just ready. We'll have ours up here," said the captain.

Over tea d.i.c.ky trotted out my troubles second-hand to our host, appealing to me every now and then to confirm his statement that I'd rather "mucked" it over this and that, and so on.

Redwood nibbled away at his tea, looking up now and then with a friendly nod to show he agreed with all that was said about me.

When all was said, he remarked--

"I wouldn't worry, youngster, if I were you. It's been a poor show last term, but you'll pull yourself together right enough. Take my advice, and lie low a bit, that's the best thing for your complaint."

"Why," said I, "that's just exactly what Tempest said to me."

"There you are again," broke in d.i.c.ky, cutting himself a hunch of cake.

Presently Redwood began to "draw" me on the subject of Tempest, and looked rather blank when I told him of the dismal circ.u.mstances in which the term had closed at Sharpe's. However, he did not favour d.i.c.ky and me with much comment on the matter, and finally got us to help him sharpen his skates and talk about other things.

I went to bed that night at d.i.c.ky's more easy and hopeful than I had been for weeks, and felt half-impatient for term to begin again, so that I might put into practice the new and trebly-patent specific of lying low.

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO.

PUTTING ON THE BRAKE.

The holidays went by rapidly enough. I tore myself away from d.i.c.ky's consoling companionship three days from the end, and rushed home to see my mother. I wonder what she thought of the difference a couple of weeks had made in me? When I started to d.i.c.ky's I had been limp, dejected, and down on my luck. Now she found me chirpy, and with a stiff upper lip. She did not make remarks, but I could see how relieved she was.