The Fifth Form at Saint Dominic's Part 15

"Not? That's a pity. Are the lessons too hard for you?" kindly inquired Mr Rastle.

"No, I don't think so--that is--no, they're not, sir."

"Ah, your Latin exercise I thought was very fair in parts to-day."

Stephen stared at his master, and the master looked very pleasantly at Stephen.

"I copied it off Raddleston," said the boy, in a trembling voice, and mentally resigning himself to his fate.

"Ah!" said Mr Rastle, laughing; "it's a funny thing, now, Greenfield, I knew that myself. No two boys could possibly have translated 'n.o.body'

into '_nullus corpus_' without making common cause!"

Stephen was desperately perplexed. He had expected a regular row on the head of his confession, and here was his master cracking jokes about the affair!

"I'm very sorry I did it. I won't do it again," said he. "That's right, my boy; Raddleston isn't infallible. Much better do it yourself.

I venture to say, now, you can tell me what the Latin for 'n.o.body' is without a dictionary."

"_Nemo_," promptly replied Stephen.

"Of course! and therefore if you had done the exercise yourself you wouldn't have made that horrid--that fearful mistake!"

Stephen said, "Yes, sir," and meditated.

"Come now," said Mr Rastle, cheerily, "I'm not going to scold you. But if you take my advice you will try and do the next exercise by yourself.

Of course you can't expect to be perfect all at once, but if you always copy off Raddleston, do you see, you'll _never_ get on at all."

"I'll try, sir," said Stephen, meaning what he said.

"I know you will, my boy. It's not easy work to begin with, but it's easier far in the long run. Try, and if you have difficulties, as you are sure to have, come to me. I'm always here in the evenings, and we'll hammer it out between us. School will not be without its temptations, and you will find it hard always to do your duty. Yet you have, I hope, learnt the power of prayer; and surely the Saviour is able not only to forgive us our sins, but also to keep us from falling. At school, my boy, as elsewhere, it is a safe rule, whenever one is in doubt, to avoid everything, no matter who may be the tempter, of which one cannot fearlessly speak to one's father or mother, and above all to our Heavenly Father. Don't be afraid of Him--He will always be ready to help you and to guide you with His Holy Spirit. Have another cup of tea?"

This little talk, much as he missed at the time its deeper meaning, saved Stephen from becoming a dunce. He still blundered and boggled over his lessons, and still kept pretty near to the bottom form in his cla.s.s, but he felt that his master had an interest in him, and that acted like magic to his soul. He declined Master Raddleston's professional a.s.sistance for the future, and did the best he could by himself. He now and then, though hesitatingly, availed himself of Mr Rastle's offer, and took his difficulties to head-quarters; and he always, when he did so, found the master ready and glad to help, and not only that, but to explain as he went along, and clear the way of future obstacles of the same sort.

And so things looked up with Stephen. He wrote jubilant letters home; he experienced all the joys of an easy conscience, and he felt that he had a friend at court.

But as long as he was a member of the honourable fraternity of Guinea-pigs, Stephen Greenfield was not likely to be dull at Saint Dominic's.

The politics of the lower school were rather intricate. The Guinea-pigs were not exactly the enemies of the Tadpoles, but the rivals. They were always jangling among themselves, it was true; and when Stephen, for the second time in one week, had hit Bramble in the eye, there was such jubilation among the Guinea-pigs that any one might have supposed the two clans were at daggers drawn. But it was not so--at least, not always--for though they fell out among themselves, they united their forces against the common enemy--the monitors!

Monitors, in the opinion of these young republicans, were an invention of the Evil One, invented for the sole purpose of interfering with them.

But for the monitors they could carry out their long-cherished scheme of a pitched battle on the big staircase, for a.s.serting their right to go down the left side, when they chose, and up on the right. As it was, the monitors insisted that they should go up on the left and come down on the right. It was intolerable tyranny! And but for the monitors their comb-and-paper musical society might give daily recitals in the top corridor and so delight all Saint Dominic's. What right had the monitors to forbid the performance and confiscate the combs? Was it to be endured? And but for the monitors, once more, they might perfect themselves in the art of pea-shooting. Was such a thing ever heard of, as that fellows should be compelled to shoot peas at the wall in the privacy of their own studies, instead of at one another in the pa.s.sages?

It was a shame--it was a scandal--it was a crime!

On burning questions such as these, Guinea-pigs and Tadpoles sunk all petty differences, and thought and felt as one man; and not the least ardent among them was Stephen.

"Come on, quick! Greenfield junior," squeaked the voice of Bramble, one afternoon, as he and Stephen met on the staircase.

Stephen had fought Bramble yesterday at four o'clock, and was to fight him again to-morrow at half-past twelve, but at the call of common danger he forgot the feud and tore up the stairs, two steps at a time, beside his chronic enemy.

"What's the row?" he gasped, as they flew along.

"Row? Why, what do you think? Young Bellerby has been doctored for tying a string across the pa.s.sage!"

"Had up before the Doctor? My eye, Bramble!"

"It is your eye indeed! One of the monitors tripped over it, and got in a rage, and there's Bellerby now catching it in the Black Hole. Come on to the meeting; quick!"

The two rushed on, joined by one and another of their fellows who had heard the terrible news. The party rushed pellmell into the Fourth Junior cla.s.s-room, where were already a.s.sembled a score or more youths, shouting, and stamping, and howling like madmen. At the sight of Bramble, the acknowledged leader of all malcontents, they quieted down for a moment to hear what he had to say.

"Here's a go!" cla.s.sically began that hero.

At this the clamour, swelled twofold by the new additions, rose louder than ever. It _was_ a go!

"I wish it had been _me_!" again yelled Bramble; "I have let them know."

Once more the shouts rose high and loud in approval of this n.o.ble sentiment.

"_I'd_ have kicked their legs!" once more howled Bramble, as soon as he could make himself heard.

"So would we; kicked their legs!"

"They ought to be hanged!" screamed Bramble.

"_I'll_ not f.a.g any more for Wren!" bellowed Bramble.

"I'll not f.a.g any more for Greenfield senior!" thundered Paul.

"I'll not f.a.g any more for Loman!" shrieked Stephen.

"Why don't some of you put poison in their teas?" cried one.

"Or blow them up when they're in bed with gunpowder?"

"Or flay them alive?"

"Or boil them in tar?"

"Or throw them into the lions' den?"

"Those who say we won't stand it any longer," shouted Bramble, jumping up on to a form, "hold up your hands!"

A perfect forest of inky hands arose, and a shout with them that almost shook the ceiling.

At that moment the door opened, and Wren appeared. The effect was magical; every one became suddenly quiet, and looked another way.

"The next time there's a noise like that," said the monitor, "the whole cla.s.s will be detained one hour," and, so saying, departed.

After that the indignation meeting was kept up in whispers. Now and then the feelings of the a.s.sembly broke out into words, but the noise was instantly checked.