Tom, Dick and Harry Part 60

"I've got the minute-book," he said, "would she--"

"Oh, do!" said she. "Is it an account of your meetings? I would like to hear it immensely. Debating societies are such capital things, I think."

"It's a bit down on Sarah, though," said the secretary, dubiously.

"Why, I wasn't there," said I.

"Weren't you? that's all."

"Let's hear it," said my mother, "I dare say he deserves it."

I forgave the dear traitress for giving me away like this, for I felt sure the minutes would save our evening.

"You see," said Trimble, "we try to keep it fair, so it's down on some of the others too. But Sarah gets it a little the hottest."

"I'm used to getting things hot by now," said I; "forge ahead, and sit where I can shy the pillow at you."

Whereupon Langrish moved his chair to a conspicuous place, and read,--

"'A meeting of the Ph.C.C. was held in dormitory on February 1, at 9 p.m.'"

"Why, that's when the fire was," said Trimble.

"Shut--I mean what's that got to do with it?" retorted the secretary.

"Well?" said my mother, taking a st.i.tch or two at her needlework.

"'Owing to the side put on by the ex-president, who was lately, kicked out for being a howling cad, and because he was down in form order--'"

"What a cram!" I interposed; "I was on the second desk, and should have had you down weeks ago if I hadn't been laid up."

"Ha, ha, I like that--you! Did your _mater_ ever hear about _corpore_ being the ablative masculine, eh?"

"No, I never heard about that," said my mother.

"All right--Sarah will tell you--where was I, oh--down in form order, though he's not quite such a crock as c.o.xhead, who is champion dunce in Low Heath--"

"Me?" exclaimed c.o.xhead, warm with tea and indignation.

"There you are," said Langrish, "anybody but a champion dunce would have said 'I.' You ask Sarah's _mater_ if they wouldn't."

"Well, _you_, if you like," said c.o.xhead; "what about it--"

"Look here, how can I read the minutes when--here we are--'crock as c.o.xhead, who is champion dunce in Low Heath.'"

"What happened then?" said my mother, looking a little mixed.

"'He was shunted to an outside berth, and was out of it.'"

"I rather think I was in it," said I; "never mind."

"Oh, if you think so, all right. The minutes say you were out of it.

'He'd not begun to snore many minutes with deafening effect, when, as might be expected, Jarman set fire to the show to stop the noise.'"

"Do you think that's why he did it, really?" asked Warminster.

"Look here, young Warminster. I don't _think_, I--"

"Pity you don't now and then," remarked the newly-elected president.

Langrish looked hard at his colleague, and then glanced at my mother, whose face was bent over her work. Whereupon the secretary threw the minute-book at the president's head, and observed,--

"Look out, Warminster; hand up that book, can't you--it's not yours."

My mother looked up, and Warminster meekly surrendered the book.

"'--Stop the noise. The club then adjourned, all except Sarah, who hung on, contrary to the rules, and is hereby fined 2 shillings 6 pence.'"

"Oh, I say," protested I, "that's rather rough, isn't it?"

"'But,'" proceeded Langrish, "'owing to his mother coming up to buy him off, he is hereby let off with a fie-- I mean a warning.'"

"Thank you so much," said my mother, gratefully.

"'When we thought he was pretty well warmed up, we sent Tempest in to fish him out, which he accordingly did, and is hereby elected honorary porter to the club, and is backed to win the Mile.'"

"That's the least he deserves, surely," said my mother, with feeling.

"'Sarah, owing to this unprincipled conduct, has been suspended for a month, and the club hereby hopes some day not far off to see him sus--'

no, that's wrong--I mean--"

"Hung," suggested Trimble, in an audible whisper.

"Order--turn him out for saying hung, instead of hanged," said the president.

"Shut up, can't you?" said the secretary, "can't you let me finish the sentence? '--See him sus--susceptible of better emotions.'"

"Hear, hear," said the club, breathing again to see the corner turned.

"I hope that's not all," said my mother.

"That's as far as we've got; but we'll let him down easy in the next,"

said Langrish.

"The next will have the account of the Sports, I suppose," said my mother.

"If our men win," said Warminster. "We're bound to win the High Jump if Langrish keeps on his form; he did 4 feet 1 and a half inches this afternoon."

"You needn't talk--you're all right for the 100 Yards," said the modest Langrish; "there's no one in, except young Brown of the day cads, who can touch you; and he's sure to go a mucker on the day."