The Fifth Form at Saint Dominic's Part 54

And so saying the amiable and respectable youth departed.

"Hullo!" said Wren, coming up just at this moment, "who's your friend, Loman? He looks a nice sort of boy!"

Wren was now captain and head monitor at Saint Dominic's--far too blunt and honest ever to be an object of anything but dislike and uneasiness to Loman. Now the uneasiness was the more prominent of the two. Loman replied, confused and reddening, "Oh, that boy? Why--oh, he's a shop-boy from the town, come up about an order--you know--for a hat-box."

"I don't know. Do you mean Morris's boy?"

"Ye--yes. A new boy of Morris's."

"Well, whoever he is, he's a precious cheeky specimen. Why didn't you kick him?"

"Eh? Kick him? Yes, I was just going to," began Loman, scarcely knowing what he said, "when--"

"When I turned up? Well, I shouldn't have interfered. By the way, Loman, I suppose you've given up going to that public now? What's the fellow's name?"

"Cripps," said Loman. "Oh, I never go near the place now."

"That's a good job. It was awkward enough his turning up as he did last term, and all a chance the Doctor didn't hear of it, I can tell you.

Anyhow, now I'm captain, that sort of thing will have to drop, mind."

"Oh, I a.s.sure you I've never been near the place since," said Loman, meekly, anxious if possible to keep the new captain in humour, much as he disliked him.

"I'm glad of it," said Wren, coldly.

Just at that moment a third personage arrived on the scene. This was Simon, who approached, not noticing Wren, and crying out with his usual gush, "Hullo, Loman, I say. I saw Cripps to-day. He was asking after you. He says you've not been down since last Sat--Hullo, Wren!"

And here the poet caught sight of the captain.

"So _you've_ been down to the c.o.c.kchafer, have you?" inquired Wren.

"Well. Oh, don't tell, Wren, I say. I don't often go. Ask Loman if I do. He's always there, and could easily tell if I went. Do I go often, Loman? Besides, I've given it up now!"

"Quick work," observed Wren, drily, "if you were down there this morning."

"Well," said Simon, s.h.i.+fting his ground slightly, "I didn't think there could be any harm, as Loman goes. _He's_ a monitor. And then I don't owe Cripps money, do I, Loman? Or play cards and bet, like you, do I?

Oh, look here, Wren, do let us off this time. Don't report me, there's a good fellow. I promise I won't do it again! Oh, I say, Loman, beg us off. I never let out on you--not even when you got--"

Wren, who had allowed this burst of eloquence to proceed thus far, here turned sharply on his heel, and left the two companions in wrong in possession of the field.

Next morning, when Loman got up, he found the following note on his table:

"Wraysford takes your place as monitor. The Doctor will be told you have 'resigned.'--C.W."

Loman crushed the paper angrily in his hand, and muttered a curse as he flung it into the fire. He felt little enough grat.i.tude to Wren for describing him merely as resigned, and not, as was actually the case, dismissed. Yet, even in his wretchedness, there was an atom of relief in knowing that at least a shred of his good old name remained.

Poor shred indeed! but better than nothing.

Every one treated him as usual--except Wren, who cut him contemptuously.

The Sixth, ever since the exposure at the football match last term, had lost any respect they ever had for their comrade, and many had wondered how it was he was still allowed to remain a monitor. Every one now supposed he had taken "the better part of valour" in resigning, and, as it mattered very little to any one what he did, and still less what he thought, they witnessed his deposition from the post of honour with profound indifference.

Poor Loman! Some righteous reader will be shocked at my pitying such a foolish, miserable failure of a fellow as this Edward Loman; and yet he was to be pitied, wasn't he? He hadn't been naturally a vicious boy, or a cowardly boy, or a stupid boy, but he had become all three; and as he sat and brooded over his hard luck, as he called it, that morning, his mind was filled with mingled misery and fear and malice towards every one and everything, and he felt well-nigh desperate.

His interview with Cripps came off that afternoon. The landlord of the c.o.c.kchafer, as the reader may have gathered, had changed his tone pretty considerably the last few days, and Loman found it out now.

"Well?" said he, gloomily, as the boy entered.

"Well?" said Loman, not knowing how to begin.

"I suppose you've got my money?" said Cripps.

"No, Cripps, I haven't," said the boy.

"All right," said Cripps; "that's quite enough for me;" and, to Loman's astonishment and terror, he walked away without another word, and left the unhappy boy to stay or go as he pleased.

Loman could not go, leaving things thus. He must see Cripps again, if it was only to know the worst. So he stayed in the bar for the landlord's return. Cripps took no notice of him, but went on with his ordinary pursuits, smiling to himself in a way which perfectly terrified his victim. Loman had never seen Cripps like this before.

"Cripps," he said, after half an hour's waiting--"Cripps, I want to speak to you."

"You may want," was the surly reply. "I've done with you, young gentleman."

"Oh, Cripps, don't talk like that! I do mean to pay you, every farthing, but--"

"Yes, you're very good at meaning, you are," said the other. "Anyhow, it don't much matter to me _now_."

"What _do_ you mean, Cripps? Oh, do give me a little more time! A week--only a week longer."

"Aren't you done?" was the only reply; "aren't you going home?"

"Will you, Cripps? Have pity on me! I'm so miserable!"

Cripps only whistled pleasantly to himself.

Loman, almost frantic, made one last effort.

"Give us just a week more," he entreated.

No answer.

"Do speak, Cripps; say you will; please do!"

Cripps only laughed and went on whistling.

"Oh, what shall I do, what _shall_ I do?" cried the wretched boy. "I shall be ruined if you don't have some pity--"

"Look here," said Cripps, curtly, "you'd better stop that noise here, my lad. You can go; do you hear? Look alive."

It was no use staying further. Loman went What anguish he endured for the next twenty-four hours no one knows. What plans he turned in his head, what wild schemes, what despair, what terrors filled him, only he himself could tell. Every moment he expected the fatal vision of Cripps at Saint Dominic's, and with it his own certain disgrace and ruin, and, as time went on, his perturbation became so great that he really felt ill with it.

But Cripps did not come that day or the next. The next day was one of mighty excitement in Saint Dominic's. The result of the examination for the Waterston Exhibition was announced.