Follow My leader Part 55

"You've had my note?" said he.

"Really, Mansfield," began Pledge, "I've no doubt it's an honour to receive a call from the Captain, but you seem to forget this is my study, not your's."

"You sent Heathcote out last night on purpose," said Mansfield, ignoring the protest, "and what I want to know now is whether you are going to resign your monitors.h.i.+p or not?"

Pledge's eyes blazed out as he met the Captain's determined face and cool eyes.

"You don't seem to have heard what I said?" he replied.

"I heard every word, and you heard my question?" answered the Captain.

"And suppose I don't choose to answer your question?"

"Then I'll answer it for you. If you choose to resign, you may. If you don't--"

"Well?"

"You cease to be a monitor, all the same."

"Who says so?" asked Pledge, sharply, and with pale lips.

"I say so, as Captain here," said Mansfield, coolly.

"You! You're not Templeton. You may be a great man in your own eyes, but you're only a schoolboy after all. I always understood Dr Winter was head master here, and not the boy Mansfield."

"You prefer to appeal to Winter, then?"

"Dear me, no! Dr Winter is so well drilled into what he has to say and do here, that it would be a pity to put him to unnecessary trouble."

"You can do as you like," said the Captain, drily. "There's to be a monitors' meeting at twelve. If you like to come and resign, do so; or if you like to come and hear your name taken off the list, you can."

And Mansfield turned on his heel, and went Pledge did not often fly into a pa.s.sion; but as he locked his door, and heard the Captain's steps retreating down the pa.s.sage, he gave vent to a fit of uncontrolled fury.

He was a coward. He knew it. He knew he dared not meet the enemy face to face, and fight for his good name in Templeton. He knew everyone hated him--everyone except, perhaps, Heathcote. And Heathcote was drifting from him, too. Should he appeal to Winter? He dared not.

Should he let himself be expelled from the monitors.h.i.+p? If he could have counted on any one who would feel an atom of regret at the step, he might have faced it. But there was no one. Should he resign? and so relieve the monitors of their difficulty, and own himself beaten? There was nothing else to do. Of the three alternatives it was the least dangerous. So he sat down and wrote:--

"Dear Mansfield,--As you appear to have set your mind upon my resigning my monitors.h.i.+p, and as I am always anxious to oblige the disinterested wishes of those who beg as a favour for what they know would come without asking, I take the opportunity to carry out what I have long contemplated, and beg to resign a post of which I have never been proud.

At the same time I must ask you to accept my resignation from the Football Club, and the Harriers.--Yours truly, P. Pledge."

It was a paltry letter, and Pledge knew it. But he could not help writing it, and only wished the words would show half the venom in which his thoughts were steeped. The sentence about the Football Club and the Harriers was a sudden inspiration. Templeton should have something to regret in the loss of him. He knew they would find it hard to fill his place in the fields, however easily they might do without him in school.

Mansfield read the letter contemptuously, as did all the monitors who had the real good of Templeton at heart. A few pulled long faces, and wondered how the Fifteen was to get on without its best halfback; but altogether the Sixth breathed more freely for what had been done and were glad Mansfield had taken upon himself a task which no one else would have cared to undertake.

Meanwhile, our three heroes were spending an agitated Sat.u.r.day half- holiday.

For d.i.c.k had decided two days ago that his "Firm" would have to look after Tom White.

"You know, you fellows," said he, "we're not exactly in it as far as his p.a.w.ning the boat goes, but then if we hadn't lost her, the row would have never come on."

"And if he hadn't robbed us, we should never have interfered with the boat."

"And if we hadn't gone to the Grandcourt match," said d.i.c.k, who was fond of tracing events to their source, "he wouldn't have robbed us."

Whereat they left the pedigree of Tom White's "row" alone, and turned to more practical business.

"What can we do?" said Georgie. "We can't get him off."

"We're bound to back him up, though, aren't we?"

"Oh, I suppose so, if we only knew how."

"Well, it strikes me we ought to turn up at the police court to-morrow, and see how things go," said d.i.c.k.

The "Firm" adopted the motion. The next day was a half-holiday; and a police court is always attractive to infant minds. And the presence of a real excuse for attending made the expedition an absolute necessity.

As soon as Sat.u.r.day school was over, therefore, and at the very time when the Sixth were considering Pledge's "resignation," our three heroes, having taken a good lunch, and armed themselves each with a towel, in case there might be time for a "Tub" on the way back, sallied forth arm-in-arm to back up Tom White.

They found, rather to their disgust, on reaching the police court, that they were not the only Templetonians who had been attracted by the prospect of seeing the honest mariner at the bar. Raggles and Duffield were there before them, waiting for the public door to open, and greeted them hilariously.

"What cheer?" cried Raggles. "Here's a go! Squash up, and we shall bag the front pew. Duff's got five-penn'orth of chocolate creams, so we shall be awfully snug."

This last announcement somewhat mollified the "Firm," who made up affectionately to Duffield's. "Old Tom will get six months," said Duffield, as soon as his bag of creams had completed its first circuit.

"Rough on him, ain't it?"

"I don't know. I say, it'll be rather a game if it turns out he stole his own boat, won't it? Case of picking your own pocket, eh?"

"I don't know," said d.i.c.k. "I don't think he did steal it. But even if he did, you see it didn't belong to him."

"It's a frightful jumble altogether," said Georgie. "I think law's a beastly thing. If the p.a.w.nbroker chooses to _give_ money on the boat--"

"Oh, it's not the p.a.w.nbroker--it's the fellows the boat belonged to."

"But, I tell you, Tom's one of the fellows himself."

"Well, it's the other fellows."

"We may as well have another go of chocolates now, in case they get squashed up going in," suggested Coote, who avoided the legal aspect of the case.

The door opened at last, and our heroes, some of whom knew the ways of the place, made a stampede over the forms and through the witness-box into the front seat reserved for the use of the public, where they spread themselves out luxuriously, and celebrated their achievement by a further tax on the friendly Duffield's creams.

The court rapidly filled. The interest which Tom White's case had evoked had grown into positive excitement since his arrest, and our heroes had reason to congratulate themselves on their punctuality as they saw the crowded forms behind them and the jostling group at the door.

"There's Webster at the back; shall you nod to him?" asked Heathcote.

"Yes--better," said d.i.c.k, speaking for the "Firm."

Whereupon all three turned their backs on the bench and nodded cheerily to Mr Webster, who never saw them, so busy was he in edging his way to a seat.