Tom, Dick and Harry Part 7

"Then Brown and I have both--"

"Brown? What about him? He didn't think I'd done it?"

"He wouldn't have been expelled if he hadn't."

The Dux gave a whistle of mingled dismay and fury.

"You know," said I, "I saw you come in that night, just after I'd heard the shot, and made sure--"

"Oh, you--you beauty!" cried the Dux, with a bitter laugh. "Why, I'd just gone down for my watch, which I'd left in my blazer, so as to wind it up--and you--you actually go and set me down as a murderer!"

"Oh, Dux, I'm so awfully sorry! Let me go and tell Plummer."

"If you do, I'll wring your neck. I wouldn't stay in this hole another day if he came on his knees and asked me. What right has he to want to make sneaks of us? Do you mean to say you and young Brown thought all along I had done it, and that I was telling lies when I said I didn't?"

"I thought perhaps you'd done it in your sleep, and didn't know."

He laughed scornfully.

"That's why you two were mum?" asked he. "Didn't want to let out on me?"

"Well, yes, partly. I'm awfully sorry, Dux. Will you ever forgive me?"

"Forgive you, kid! If I'd time I'd thrash you within an inch of your life for being such a fool, and then I'd thank you for being such a trump--you and Brown too."

"Is it too late to do anything now?" asked I again.

"Not for me--nothing would keep me here. But I don't see why you should be expelled. I'll tell Plummer it was a mistake."

"No, you won't," said I, catching his arm. "I wouldn't stay here now for worlds."

"It's rough all round," said Tempest, looking profoundly miserable, as the rumble of a cab came up to the hall door.

"What will your mater say, kid?"

"She'll understand. I hope she won't send me back though."

"Get her to send you to Low Heath."

"She couldn't afford it. You'll write to me, Dux?"

"Most likely. Tell Brown how sorry I am."

"Now, Tempest, ready?" said Mr Ramsbottom.

"Good-bye, kid. I sha'n't forget you."

Next minute he was off, and I was left alone.

I do not deny that for a moment or two I found it convenient to rub my eyes. It was a hot day, and the light through the window was dazzling, I think.

Then to my relief up came my cab, and under the stalwart escort of Mrs Potts, the matron, I quitted Dangerfield for good.

My journey home was, as may be imagined, not a festive one. What would my mother say, or my guardian? What version of the story had Plummer given them? It consoled me to work myself up into a fury as I sat in the corner of the railway carriage, and prepare an indictment of his conduct which should make my conduct appear not only justifiable, but heroic.

Alas! heroism can rarely endure the rattle of a long railway journey.

Long before we reached Fallowfield my heart was in my boots, and my fierceness had all evaporated.

But a year ago my father had died, leaving me, his only child, to be the comfort and support of my mother. What message of comfort or support was I carrying home to-day? What would my guardian, who had given me such yards of stern advice about honouring my betters, say when he heard? Should I be sent to an office to run errands, or pa.s.sed on to a school for troublesome boys, or left to knock about with no one to care what became of me?

With such pleasant misgivings in my mind I reached Fallowfield, and braced myself up for the interview before me.

CHAPTER FOUR.

BRUSHING-UP THE CLa.s.sICS.

My guardian, I am bound to say, disappointed me. I had rather hoped, as I travelled home, that I would be able to put my conduct before him in such a way that he would think me rather a fine young fellow, and consider himself honoured in being my guardian. That my mother would take on, I felt sure.

"Women," said I to myself--I was thirteen, and therefore was supposed to know what women thought about things--"women can't see below the surface of things. But old Girdler was a boy himself once, and knows what it is for a fellow to get into a row for being a brick."

My sage prognostications were falsified doubly. My mother, though she wept to see me come home in this style, did me justice at once. To think I could ever have doubted her!

"Of course, sonny dear," said she, kissing me, "it was very hard.

Still, I am sure it would have been a shabby thing to tell tales."

"I wasn't going to do it, at any rate," said I, growing a little c.o.c.ky, and deciding that some women, at any rate, can see more than meets the eye.

But Mr Girdler, when he called in during the evening, was most disappointing.

"So this is what you call being a comfort to your mother?" began he, without so much as giving me a chance to say a word.

"Oh, but you don't understand, sir," began I.

"Don't understand!" said he. "I understand you are a naughty little boy"--to think that I should live to be called a little boy!--"and that the mischief about your schooling is that you've not been smacked as often as you ought. Understand, indeed! What do you suppose your mother's to do with a boy like you, that's wasted his time, and then tells people they don't understand?"

"I don't think Tommy meant--" began my mother; but my guardian was too quick for her.

"No, that's just it. They never do, and yet you pay fifty pounds a year to teach him. It doesn't matter to some children who else is troubled as long as they enjoy themselves."

Children! And I had once caught Parkin at cover-point! "Go up to bed now," said my guardian. "Your mother and I must see what's to be done with you. Don't I understand, indeed?"

The conceit was fairly taken out of me now. To be called a little boy was bad enough; to be referred to as a child was even worse; but to be sent to bed at a quarter to eight on a summer evening was the crowning stroke. Certainly, Plummer's itself was better than this.

What my mother and guardian said to one another I do not know. My mother, I think, had great faith in Mr Girdler's wisdom; and although she tried not to think ill of me, would probably feel that he knew better than she did.

I knew my fate next morning--it was worse than my most hideous forebodings.