Wilton School Part 3

Nothing daunted, he cleaned it as well as he could, and, putting it on, emerged into the play-ground.

Just as he was fairly in the open, walking quickly towards the gates, and not looking about him, he heard a burst of voices that bore no pleasant meaning; and then a body of tennis-b.a.l.l.s flew all round him--some hitting him smartly, some whizzing within an ace of him.

As soon as he had recovered from the first shock of his astonishment, stung and bruised, he looked to see who were his a.s.sailants, and there he saw about twenty boys, mostly of his own age and size, in fact, belonging to his form; though several of the crowd stood out from the rest, as older and bigger.

Harry's weakness was now turned to indignation.

"You beastly cowards!" he cried, "what have I done to you?"

"Thought to get the prize by cribbing, did you, you sneak?"

"I did not crib," shouted Harry, who had not stirred from where he was first hit by the b.a.l.l.s.

"You little liar, you did. Give it him again," cried one of the bigger boys; and then another shower of b.a.l.l.s fell thick about him.

"I'm not a liar. It's you're the liars, and the cowards too," he cried, coming nearer the crowd; and then the boys, too, crowded nearer to him.

"Do you mean to call me a liar? Do you mean to call me a coward?"

cried one after the other--the bigger boys now being louder and more threatening in their tones.

"Yes, I do," answered Harry, "if you say I cribbed, when I didn't. And you are cowards to all set on one."

"Leave him to me," said Warburton, a tall, ungainly boy of fourteen, as boy after boy was eager to take the quarrel to himself. "I'll teach him. Now, you young brute," he cried, advancing to Harry. "Do you mean to call me a liar and a coward?"

[Ill.u.s.tration: "'Leave him to me,' said Warburton, a tall ungainly boy of fourteen, as boy after boy was eager to take the quarrel to himself."--WILTON SCHOOL, page 52.]

"Yes, I do," persisted Harry, as Warburton came nearer, and shook his fist in his face. "It wasn't my crib; and you'd better not hit me!"

"Better not hit _you_," jeered Warburton; while the group echoed, "Better not hit him, indeed! Give him a good licking for his cheek, Warburton; I would if I were you!"

Warburton's jeer was very forced, but the voices of the rest gave him courage. So he rushed at Harry. The latter, however, seeing what to expect, threw away his books, and then flew at Warburton, who, from sheer astonishment at having actually to fight when he thought to administer an easy licking, began the combat at rather a disadvantage.

Both hit very wildly at first, and not much damage was done. Of the two, Warburton was most out of breath, for he had been hitting furiously at Harry, who, not being strong enough to ward off the blows with his arms, had been forced to dodge and duck his head.

Presently they got into a corner close to the lobby-door, and Harry was beginning to flag. Not a word all this time had been uttered by the on-lookers. They would not back Harry; and to cheer on Warburton would be ridiculous. "Of course he would lick him all to pieces in a minute," they said.

But the minute had been a good long one, and all in their hearts were somewhat surprised. Just then Egerton came up; and Harry could scarcely believe his ears, when one voice alone came out of the crowd, cheering him on, and saying, "Go it, Campbell! Well fought! I'll back you, after all." And the voice was Egerton's.

At that moment Warburton was making a furious charge at him, when Harry stepped sharply aside, and gathering all his remaining force into one blow, hit his foe on the jaw: at the same instant Warburton slipped, and the blow and the false step terminated the fight, for he fell violently through the open lobby-door upon the stone floor.

"Well fought, Campbell! well fought!" cried Egerton.

No one else uttered a word.

Waiting till Warburton was on his feet again, his mouth bleeding, his face very crestfallen, Harry picked up his books, and shaking off Egerton's congratulations and friendly words, for he felt he was far more his enemy than Warburton, started home.

A good bathe in the lavatory set the mouth to rights; but Warburton was utterly cowed, and had learnt a lesson, which the rest had learnt too, that meek-hearted boys may bear a good deal of bullying, but that even to their endurance there is a certain limit.

CHAPTER VIII.

FRIENDS IN MISFORTUNE.

Ominous words--A visitor--Harry breaks down--A confused story--What is to be done?--In good keeping.

Harry reached the farm about six o'clock--later than his usual time, and he knew his mother would be sure to inquire the reason; and, besides, his hair was very rough, and there was a suspicious-looking red mark on his left cheekbone. However, he was no sooner inside the house than he ran straight up-stairs to his mother. Her bedroom door was just ajar, and hearing a strange voice proceeding from the room.

Harry knew some one was with her; so he sat down on the stairs, hoping that it would not be long before he might go in to see her. His heart was bursting to tell her all. He could keep it a secret no longer.

To-morrow was the dreaded day when he was to be taken before Dr Palmer, and what the punishment might be, he dared not think. Expulsion, perhaps: certainly the loss of his place in his cla.s.s, and nothing scarcely could be worse than that. Poor boy, he was in ignorance (and happily so) of the extent of the fault of cribbing. Most boys would have said: "I shall get a good caning, but I can get my crib again soon enough."

It was a lady who was with Mrs Campbell; so Harry knew from the voice, which was soft and sweet. She was talking quietly to his mother about her death; and as the words fell upon the silence. Harry listened eagerly for every syllable, nervous and trembling, and grew more miserable as each minute stole wearily by.

"It wouldn't have been so hard to die," Mrs Campbell was saying, "if he could only have been with me till the last. Dear Alan! I wonder where he is now?"

"Yet think, dear Mrs Campbell, how he is spared the pain of seeing you suffer," said the doctor's wife, for it was she. "You love him well enough, I know, to enable you to think this, don't you?"

"Oh, yes! yes!" answered the dying wife. "G.o.d knows what is for our good. It may have saved him much pain and sorrow. Dear Alan!" and her voice grew very low. She was talking half to herself. Then, as the new thought flashed across, she said again aloud, "But what will become of Harry when I am gone, and Alan out at sea?"

And Harry, where he sat on the stairs in the deepening dusk, burst into tears. His mother's quick ears caught the sound of his sobs, and she exclaimed:

"Why, there is Harry crying on the stairs? Tell him to come in, will you, Mrs Bromley?"

Harry needed no telling. He was soon in the room, at his mother's bedside, and clasped in her arms.

"Don't cry, Harry, darling," the weak voice said. "Don't cry so!"

"You aren't really going to die, mamma? What shall I do without you?--all alone--and--and Dr Palmer won't believe me. I know he won't," sobbed Harry.

"Dr Palmer won't believe you? What is it, dear? and what is the matter with your face? Oh, Harry, you haven't been fighting, have you?" she added, and her voice bore shadow of reproach in it.

"Yes, mamma, I have," answered Harry, "but I didn't begin; they all set on me, and shied b.a.l.l.s at me, and said I cribbed, and called me a liar and a coward, and I fought Warburton, and licked him," and then came the English schoolboy's triumphant glance, through his tearful eyes.

"Said you cribbed? When, dear? How?" asked Mrs Campbell. "Tell me all about it."

And, then, when the two had at length succeeded in quieting Harry, he began his story. Through excitement, it was naturally very confused at first, but, by degrees, he had made everything plain.

"But why don't you tell Dr Palmer that it was Egerton's crib? and all that you saw in morning school?" said Mrs Campbell.

"Yes," chimed in the doctor's wife, "you can tell him you distinctly saw Egerton using the book."

"That's no good, mamma," answered Harry, despondingly. "He wouldn't believe me. He'd say I put it off on Egerton, because he was next me in cla.s.s."

"What _is_ to be done?" said Mrs Bromley. "I quite see what the poor boy means."

"Never mind, Harry, dear, tell the truth, as I know you will," said Mrs Campbell, "and it will all go well with you. Egerton will be found out sooner or later, and Dr Palmer will be sorry if he has punished you for nothing."

"I shall tell Mr Bromley to go and speak to Dr Palmer. That horrid boy, Egerton! I could give him a good shaking!" said Mrs Bromley, excitedly. "And now, dear Mrs Campbell, I must go. I will try and send you round some grapes in the morning. They will be so good for your thirst. I shall come and see you again soon. Keep up," she added, in a whisper. "Think of what we have been saying. G.o.d is but calling you to a better country, and He will guard your motherless boy!"