The Fifth Form at Saint Dominic's Part 58

Then came one or two odd paragraphs; one of them was:--

"By the way, the _Dominican_ wants to know why Loman is no longer a monitor? Do his engagements with friends in Maltby prevent his giving the necessary time to this duty? or are the Sixth beginning to see that if they want order in the school they must have fellows who have at least a little influence to do it? They have done well in appointing Wraysford. But why is Loman resigned? Who can tell? It's a riddle. A prize for the best answer in our next."

The finis.h.i.+ng stroke, however, was Pembury's "Notes and Queries from Down Below," supposed to be of special interest to the Fourth Junior.

The first was as follows:--

"Lessons.--Padger the Tadpole writes to ask, 'How do you do lessons?'

The answer is a simple one, Padger. If you are a member of the Fourth Junior, as we have a vague idea you are, the way of 'doing' lessons there is as follows: Sit at a desk full of old cherry-stones, orange-peel, and dusty sherbet, and put your elbows on it. Then with your pen scatter as much ink as you conveniently can over your own collar and face, and everybody else, without unduly exerting yourself.

After that kick your right and left neighbours; then carefully rub your hands in the dust and pa.s.s them several times over your countenance, all the while making the most hideous and abominable howls and shrieks you can invent. And then your lessons are 'done.'"

This paragraph so grievously incensed the honourable community at which it was directed, that for the first time for some months Guinea-pigs and Tadpoles made common cause to protest against the base insinuations it contained.

The "meeting" in the Fourth Junior that afternoon lasted, on and off, from half-past four to half-past eight. Among the speakers were Bramble, Paul, and Stephen; while Padger, Walker, and Rook did very good execution with their fists. About half-past seven the dust was so dense that it was impossible to see across the room; but those who knew reported that there was another row on about Greenfield senior, and that Paul and Padger were having their twenty-seventh round! Anyhow, the Guinea-pigs and Tadpoles missed the rest of the _Dominican_, which, however, only contained one other paragraph of special interest:

"To-morrow week the football match of the season, School against County, will be played in the Saint Dominic's meadow. We are glad to say the School team will be a crack one, including this time Greenfield senior, and excluding one or two of the 'incompetents' of last term. The following is the school fifteen:--Stansfield (football captain), Brown, Winter, Callonby, Duncan, Ricketts, T. Senior, Henderson, Carter, and Watkins, forwards; Wren (school captain) and Forrester (iv.), quarter-back; Greenfield and Bullinger, half-back; and Wraysford, back.

With a team like this the school ought to give a good account of itself against our visitors."

This announcement was interesting in more than one respect. Greenfield _was_ in the team, Loman was _not_.

CHAPTER THIRTY THREE.

A STARTLING DISCOVERY.

It is now time to return to Loman, whom we left two chapters ago, with his usual luck, standing in Greenfield's study with the 8 pounds in his hand which was finally to clear him of all his troubles, set him once for all on his feet again, and take such a weight off his mind as ought to leave him the lightest-hearted boy in all Saint Dominic's.

He stood there for a minute or two after Oliver and Wraysford had left the room, too bewildered to collect his thoughts or realise one-half of his good fortune, for he had come to Oliver in his extremity as a desperate chance, fully expecting an angry rebuff--or, at best, a chilling snub. But to get through the interview like this, and find the money in his hand within three minutes of his entering the room--why, it quite took his breath away.

Oliver Greenfield _was_ a queer, unaccountable fellow, and no mistake!

Yet, strange to say, when Loman did come to himself he did not burst out into a rapture of delight and grat.i.tude. On the contrary, he suddenly felt himself growing to such a pitch of misery and low spirits as even in the worst of his troubles he had never experienced. He repented bitterly of ever bringing himself to come and ask such a favour of his worst enemy, and, stranger than all, he felt his dislike for Greenfield increased rather than swept away by this abrupt, startling piece of generosity. Strange the whims that seize us! Loman would almost have been happier in his old suspense about Cripps than to feel he owed such a debt to such a creditor.

However, the thought of Cripps, his other creditor, flashed suddenly through his mind at that moment, so, closing his hand over the money, he turned moodily and left the room.

At any rate, he would get clear of Cripps now he had the chance.

As soon as ever morning school was over he took his hat and traversed once more the familiar road between Saint Dominic's and the c.o.c.kchafer.

"Is Cripps at home?" he inquired of the potboy.

"Yas," said the boy. "Who wants him?"

"I do, you young blockhead!"

"You do? Oh, all right! I'll tell him, mister. Don't you collar no mugs while I'm gone, mind!"

The very potboys despised and ridiculed him!

Loman waited patiently for a quarter of an hour, when the boy returned.

"Oh!" said he, "the governor can't see you, he says. He's a-smoking his pipe, he says, and he ain't a-goin' to put himself about, he says, for the likes of you. That's what he says! Ti ridde tol rol ro!" and here the youth indulged in a spitefully cheerful carol as he resumed the polis.h.i.+ng of the mugs.

"Look here!" said Loman, miserable and half frightened, "tell him I _must_ see him; I've got some money for him, tell him."

"No! have you?" said the boy. "Well, wait till I've done this here job--I'm dead on this here job, I am! You can keep, you can."

This was too much even for the dispirited and cowed Loman. He caught the impudent boy a box on the ear, which resounded all over the c.o.c.kchafer, and sent him howling and yelling to his master.

Cripps appeared at last in a fury. What, he demanded, with half a dozen oaths, did Loman mean by coming there and a.s.saulting him and his a.s.sistants? "What do you mean, you thieving jackanapes, you! Get out of my shop, do you hear? or I'll get some one in who will help you out!

_I'll_ teach you to come here and make yourself at home, you lying--"

"Now, Cripps," began Loman.

"Hold your noise! do you hear?" said Cripps, savagely.

"I'm very sorry, Cripps," said the wretched boy; "I didn't mean to hurt him, but he--"

"Oh! you won't go, won't you? Very good! we'll see if we can make you;"

and Cripps departed from the bar, leaving his young "patron" in anything but a comfortable frame of mind.

For once in a way, however, Loman was roused, and would not go. The boy--miserable specimen as he was--had some courage in him, and when once goaded up to the proper pitch it came out. If he went, he argued to himself, Cripps would certainly come up to Saint Dominic's after him.

If he waited till the police or some of the roughs came and ejected him he could not be much worse off; and there was a chance that, by remaining, he might still be able to pacify his evil genius.

So he stayed. Another quarter of an hour pa.s.sed; no one came to turn him out. A few customers came into the bar and were served by the sulky potboy, but there was no sign of Cripps.

"Go and tell your master I'm here still, and want to see him particularly," said Loman, presently, to the boy.

The boy looked up and scowled and rubbed his ear, but somehow that timely blow of Loman's had wrought wonders with his spirit, for he quietly went off and did as he was bid.

In a few minutes he came back and delivered the laconic message, "You're got to wait."

This was satisfactory as far as it went. Loman did wait, simmering inwardly all the time, and not wholly losing his desperation before once again Cripps appeared and beckoned him inside.

"Here's the rest of the money," said Loman, hurriedly. "You can give me back the bill now, Cripps."

Cripps took up the money, counted it and pocketed it, and then turned on his victim with an impudent smile.

"Give me the bill," repeated Loman, suddenly turning pale with the dreadful misgiving that after all he had not got rid of the blackguard.

"What do you want the bill for?" asked Cripps, laughing.

"Want it for? Why, Cripps--" and here Loman stopped short.

"Fire away," said Cripps.

"I've paid you all I owe," said Loman, trembling.

"What if you have?"