The Fifth Form at Saint Dominic's Part 47

"Oh, I can't do anything for the _Dominican_ this time," said Ricketts.

"Yes, you can, and yes, you will," coolly replied Anthony.

"Who says I will?" demanded Ricketts, inclined to be angry.

"It sounds as if _I_ do," replied the editor. "Why of course you'll do something for it, Rick?"

"I'd be glad enough, but really I'm not in the humour," said Ricketts.

"Why ever not?" demanded Tony.

"Why, the fact is," said Ricketts, "I fancy the Fifth is not exactly looking up at present, and we've nothing particular to be proud of. If you take my advice you'll keep the _Dominican_ quiet for a bit."

"My dear fellow, that's the very thing we mustn't do. Don't you see, you old duffer you, that if we shut up shop and retire into private life, everybody will be thinking we daren't hold up our heads? I mean to hold up my head, for one," added Tony, proudly, "if there were a thousand Greenfields in the cla.s.s; and I mean to make you hold up yours too, old man. It'll be time enough to do the hang-dog business when we all turn knaves; but till we do, we've as good a right to be known at Saint Dominic's as anybody else. So none of your humbug, Rick. We'll get out an extra good _Dominican_, and let the fellows see we're alive and kicking."

This speech had the required effect. It not only won over Ricketts, but most of the other leading spirits of the Fifth, who had been similarly holding back.

Tony was not the fellow to let an advantage go by. Having once got his men into a becoming frame of mind, he kept them well in hand and worked them up into something like the old enthusiasm on the subject of the _Dominican_.

Every one was determined the present number should be an out-and-out good one, and laboured and racked his brains accordingly.

But somehow or other the fellows had never found it so hard, first to get inspirations, and then to put them down on paper, as they did at present. Every one thought he had something very fine and very clever to say if he could only find expression for it. The amount of brain-cudgelling that went on over this _Dominican_ was simply awful.

Wraysford gave it up in disgust. Ricketts, Bullinger, Tom Senior, and others stumbled through their tasks, and could only turn out lame productions at the best. Even Pembury's lucubrations lacked a good deal of their wonted dash and spirit. The cloud which was hanging over the Fifth seemed to have overshadowed its genius for a while.

Still Pembury kept his men at it and gave them no peace till their productions, such as they were, were safe in his hands. One boy only was equal to the emergency; that I need hardly say was Simon. He was indeed more eloquent than ever. He offered Pembury a poem of forty verses, ent.i.tled, "An Elegy on the Wick of a Candle that had just been blown out," to begin with, and volunteered to supplement this contribution with one or two smaller pieces, such as, "My Little Lark,"

or "An Adventure outside the Dormitory Door," or "Mind Mewsings."

Pembury prudently accepted all, and said he would insert what he thought fit, an a.s.surance which delighted Simon, who immediately sat down and wrote some more "pieces," in case at the last moment there might be room for them too. But, in spite even of these valuable contributions, the _Dominican_ fell flat. There were a few good things in it here and there, but it was far below its ordinary form; and not a few of the writers repented sorely that ever they had put pen to paper to help produce it.

The chief amus.e.m.e.nt of the paper was contained in a "New Code of Regulations for the Better Management of Guinea-pigs and Tadpoles," from the editor's pen. It began thus:

"A society has lately been started at Saint Dominic's for the preservation and management of Guinea-pigs and Tadpoles. The following are some of the rules to be observed:--

"Any one owning a Guinea-pig or Tadpole is to be responsible for was.h.i.+ng it with soap and hot water at least twice a day.

"Any one owning a Guinea-pig or Tadpole is to supply the rest of the school with cotton wool and scent.

"No Guinea-pig or Tadpole is on any account to use hair oil or grease which has not been sanctioned by a joint committee of the Fifth, Sixth, and masters.

"During the approaching winter, every one possessing a Guinea-pig or Tadpole shall be at liberty, providing it is regularly washed, to use it as a warming-pan for his own bed."

The small tribe of furious juniors who as usual had crowded round the paper on the morning of publication to get "first read," broke forth at this point into a howl of exasperation.

"They won't! I'll see they won't use me as a warming-pan, won't you, Padger? The brutes! I'll bite their horrid cold feet if they stick them against me, that's what I'll do."

"I'll keep a pin to stick into them," said another.

"I'll get some leeches and put on their legs," shouted another.

"I'll tell you what," said Stephen, changing the subject, "it's cool cheek of them calling us 'it,' as if we were things."

"So they have," exclaimed Paul; "oh, I say, that's too much; I'll let them know _I'm_ not a thing."

"Yes, you are a thing, isn't he, Padger? A regular _it_," exclaimed the vindictive Bramble. "Yah, boo, old '_its_,' both of you."

"Hold hard," said some one, just as the usual hostilities were about to commence. "Listen to this." And he read the next "regulation":--

"Immediate steps are to be taken to pickle a Tadpole as a specimen for the school museum. The following is a recipe for this. Take the ugliest, dirtiest, noisiest, and most ignorant specimen that can be found. Lift it carefully with a pair of tongs into a bath full of vinegar. Close the lid and let it remain there to soak for a week. At the end of that time lift it out and sc.r.a.pe it well all over with a sharp substance, to get off the first coating of grime. Soak again for another week and sc.r.a.pe again, and so on till the ninth or tenth coating is removed. After that the creature will appear thinner than when it began. Hang it up to dry in a clean place, and be sure no other Guinea-pigs or Tadpoles come near it. Then put it in a clean gown, and quickly, before it can get at the ink, put it in a large gla.s.s bottle and fasten down the stopper. Label it, 'Specimen of a curious reptile formerly found at Saint Dominic's. Now happily extinct.'"

"There you are," said Paul, when, after much blundering and sticking at words, this remarkable paragraph had been read through. "There you are, Bramble, my boy; what do you think of that?" Bramble had no difficulty in intimating what he thought of it in pretty strong language, and for some little time the further reading of the _Dominican_ was suspended.

When, however, the row was over, the group had been joined by several of the elder boys, who appeared to appreciate Simon's poem, "An Adventure outside the Dormitory Door." It was called an "epick," and began thus.

The reader must be contented with quite a short extract:--

"Outside the Dormitory door I walked me slow upon the floor And just outside the Doctor's study A youth I met all in a hurry; His name perhaps I had better not tell But like a snail retire into my sh.e.l.l."

This last simile had evidently particularly delighted the poet. So much so, that he brought it in at the close of every succeeding verse. The "epick" went on, of course, to unravel the threads of the "adventure,"

and to intimate pretty plainly who "the youth" referred to was. To any one not interested in the poet or his epic the production was a dull one, and the moral at the end was not quite clear even to the most intellectual.

"Now I must say farewell; yet stay, methinks How many many youths do sit on brinks.

Oh joy to feel the soft breeze sigh And in the shady grove to wipe the eye, It makes me feel a man I know full well, But like a snail I'll now retire within my sh.e.l.l."

These were the only articles in the _Dominican_ that afforded any amus.e.m.e.nt. The remainder of the paper, made up of the usual articles sneering at the Sixth and crowing over the school generally, were very tame. The result of the Nightingale Scholars.h.i.+p was announced as follows:--

"The examination for the Nightingale Scholars.h.i.+p was held on the 1st October. The scholars.h.i.+p was lost by Loman of the Sixth by 70 marks to 97. A good performance on the whole."

This manner of announcing the unfortunate result was ingenious, and did Tony credit. For, whether his object was to annoy the Sixth or to s.h.i.+eld the Fifth, he succeeded amply in both. There were some, however, in the Fifth who were by no means content that Greenfield should be let off so easily in the _Dominican_, and these read with interest the following "Notes from Coventry," contributed by Bullinger. Anthony had accepted and inserted them against his better judgment.

"If the fellow is at Coventry, why not let him stay there?" he said to Bullinger. "The best thing we can possibly do is to let him alone."

"I don't see it," said Bullinger. "Everybody will think we are trying to s.h.i.+eld him if we keep so quiet. Anyhow, here's my paper. You can put it in or not, which you like. I'm not going to write anything else."

Pembury took the paper and put it in. The reader may like to hear a few of the "Notes from Coventry."

"The quaint old city of Coventry has lately been visited by a 'gentleman' from Saint Dominic's, who appears so charmed with all he has seen and heard that it is expected he will remain there for some considerable time.

"The object of his visit is of a private nature, possibly for the purpose of scientific research, for which absolute quiet is necessary.

His experiments are chiefly directed to the making or taking of examination papers, and on his return we may look for valuable discoveries. Meanwhile he sees very little company. The society in which he most delights is that of certain Guinea-pigs, between whom and himself a special bond of sympathy appears to exist. It is a touching sight to see him taking his daily walks in company with these singular animals; who, be it said, seem to be the only creatures able to appreciate his character. Curiously enough, since he left us, Saint Dominic's has not collapsed; indeed, it is a singular fact that now he is away it is no longer considered necessary for every fellow to lock his study-door when he goes out, and keep the key." And so on.

Miserable stuff indeed, as Stephen thought, but quite stinging enough to wound him over and over again as he saw the sneers and heard the laughs with which the reading of the extract was greeted. Everybody evidently was against his brother, and, with a deep disgust and fury at his heart, he left them to laugh by themselves and returned to Oliver's study.

He found his brother in what were now his usual cheerful spirits. For after the first week or so of his being sent to Coventry, Oliver, in his own study at least, kept up a cheerful appearance.

"Hullo, Stee," said he as the young brother entered. "You're just in time. Here's a letter from mother."

"Is there? How jolly! Read it out, Noll."

So Oliver read it out. It was an ordinary, kind, motherly epistle, such as thousands of schoolboys get every week of the school year. All about home, and what is going on, how the dogs are, where sister Mary has been to, how the boiler burst last week, which apple-tree bore most, and so on; every sc.r.a.p of news that could be sc.r.a.ped up from the four winds of heaven was in that letter.