It was a great relief to find matters were no worse, and that in a very few minutes Philpot’s hand had recovered from the smart of the explosion. This accident, however, decided the young enthusiasts that for the present they had perhaps had enough chemistry for one lesson.
In a few days, however, they had all sufficiently got over the shock of the last afternoon’s experiments to decide on a fresh venture, and these lessons continued, on and off, during the rest of the term. It can hardly be said that by the end of the term Pilbury or Cusack knew any more about chemistry than they had known this first day. They persistently refused to listen to any of Philpot’s “jaw,” as they rudely termed his attempts at explanation, and confined themselves to the experiments. However, though in many respects they wasted their time over their new pursuit, these volatile youths might have been a good deal worse employed.
In fact, if every Welcher had been no worse employed that house would not have brought all the discredit on Willoughby which it did. As it was, everybody there seemed to follow his own sweet will without a single thought for the good of the school or the welfare of his fellows. The heads of the house, Tucker and Silk, did not even attempt to set a good example, and that being so, it was hardly to be expected those below them would be much interested to supply the deficiencies.
On the very afternoon when Pilbury and Cusack had been sitting at the feet of the learned Philpot in the laboratory, Silk, a monitor, had, along with Gilks, of the schoolhouse, a monitor too, gone down to Shellport, against all rules, taking Wyndham junior, one of their special
, with them.
They appeared to be pretty familiar with the ins and outs of the big town, and though on this occasion they occupied their time in no more disgraceful a way than waiting on the harbour pier to see the mail steamer come in, they yet felt, all three of them, as if they would by no means like to be seen by any one who knew them.
And it appeared as if they were going to be spared this embarrassment, for they encountered no one they knew till they were actually on their way home.
Then, just as they were passing the station door, they met, to their horror, a boy in a college cap just coming out with a parcel under his arm. To their astonishment, it proved to be no other than Riddell himself.
Riddell, who had come down by a special “permit” from the doctor to get a parcel — containing, by the way, his new boating flannels — at first looked as astonished and uncomfortable as the three truants themselves. He would sooner have had anything happen to him than such a meeting. However, as usual, his sense of duty came to his rescue.
He advanced to the group in a nervous manner, and, addressing Wyndham, said, hurriedly, “Please come to my room this evening, Wyndham,” and then, without waiting for a reply, or staying to notice the ominous looks of the two monitors, he departed, and proceeded as fast as he could back to Willoughby.
Chapter Ten
Wyndham Junior and his Friends
Wyndham, the old captain, just before leaving Willoughby, had done his best to interest Riddell in the welfare of his young brother, a Limpet in the Fourth.
“I wish you’d look after him now and then, Riddell,” he said; “he’s not a bad fellow, I fancy, but he’s not got quite enough ballast on board, and unless there’s some one to look after him he’s very likely to get into bad hands.”
Riddell promised he would do his best, and the elder brother was most grateful.
“I shall be ever so much easier
A parting request like Wyndham’s would have been very hard for any friend to refuse; but to Riddell the promise “to look after young Wyndham” meant a great deal more than it would have done to many other fellows. It was not enough for him to make occasional inquiries as to his young
, or even to try to shield him when he fell into scrapes. Riddell’s idea of looking after a rickety youngster included a good deal more than this, and from the moment the old captain had left, amid all his
“You’re in for a nice sermon, my boy,” said Gilks, as the three walked home.
“I wish he hadn’t seen us,” said Wyndham, feeling uncomfortable.
“Why, you don’t suppose he’ll lick you?” said Silk, laughing.
“No, but he’ll be awfully vexed.”
“Vexed!” cried Gilks. “Poor fellow! How I’d like to comfort him! Take my advice and forget all about going to his study. He’ll not be sorry, I can tell you.”
“Oh, I must go,” said Wyndham. “I don’t want to offend him.”
“Kind of you,” said Silk, laughing. “Funny thing how considerate a fellow can be to another fellow who does his lessons for him.”
Wyndham blushed, but said nothing. He knew these two companions were not the sort of boys his brother would have cared to have him associate with, nor did he particularly like them himself. But when two senior boys take the trouble to patronise a junior and make fun of his “peculiarities,” as they called his scruples, it is hardly surprising that the youngster comes out a good way to meet his patrons.
Wyndham, by the way, was rather more than a youngster. He was a Limpet, and looked back on the days of fagging as a long-closed chapter of his history. Had he been a junior like Telson or Pilbury, it would have been less likely either that Game and Silk would take such trouble to cultivate his acquaintance, or that he would submit himself so easily to their patronage. As it was, he was his own master. Nobody had a right to demand his services, neither had he yet attained to the responsibilities of a monitor. He could please himself, and therefore yielded himself unquestioningly to the somewhat flattering attentions of the two seniors.
No, not quite unquestioningly. Short as was the time since his brother had left, it had been long enough for Riddell to let the boy see that he wished to be his friend. He had never told him so in words, but Wyndham could guess what all the kind interest which the new captain evinced in him meant. And it was the thought of this that kept alive the one or two scruples he still retained in joining himself to the society of Gilks and Silk.
And so he declined the invitation of these two friends to defy the captain’s summons.
“Well,” said Gilks, “if you must put your head into the lion’s mouth, you must, mustn’t he, Silk? But I say, as you
“
“Rather!” said Silk; “it amuses the fishes, you know.” Beamish’s was, as Gilks had said, another name for the Shellport Aquarium — a disreputable place of resort, whose only title to the name of Aquarium was that it had in it, in an obscure corner which nobody ever explored, a small tank, which might have contained fishes if there had been any put into it. As it was, the last thing any one went to Beamish’s for was to study fishes, the other attractions of the place — the skittles, bowls, and refreshment bars — being far more popular. These things in themselves, of course, were not enough to make Beamish’s a bad place. That character was supplied by the company that were mostly in the habit of frequenting it, of which it is enough to say it was the very reverse of select.
At this time of day, however, the place was almost empty, and when, after a good deal of chaff and persuasion, Wyndham was induced to take a little turn round the place, he was surprised to find it so quiet and unobjectionable. The boys had a short game at skittles and a short game at bowls, and bought a few buns and an ice at the refreshment stall, and then departed schoolwards.
They reached Willoughby in good time for call-over, no one except Riddell being aware of their pleasant expedition. Still Wyndham, when it was all
But as soon as the boy entered, Riddell pushed the papers away rather nervously.
“Well, Wyndham,” said he, “I’m glad you’ve come.”
Wyndham deposited his books and looked rather uncomfortable.
Riddell had rather hoped the boy would refer to the subject first, but he did not. Riddell therefore said, “I was sorry to see you down in Shellport this afternoon, Wyndham. You hadn’t a permit, had you?”
“No,” said Wyndham.
“It’s hardly the thing, is it?” said the captain, quietly, after a pause.
His voice, devoid of all anger or self-importance, made Wyndham still more uncomfortable.
“I’m awfully sorry,” said he. “I suppose I oughtn’t to have gone. I beg your pardon, Riddell.”
“Oh!” said Riddell, “don’t do that, please.”
“You know,” said Wyndham, “as those two took me, it didn’t seem to be much harm. We only went to see the steamer come in.”
“The thing is,” said Riddell, “it was against the rules.”
“But Gilks and Silk are both monitors, aren’t they?”
“They are,” said the captain, with a touch of bitterness in his tone.
There was another pause, this time a long one. Neither boy seemed inclined to return to the subject. Wyndham opened his books and made a pretence of beginning his work, and Riddell fidgeted with the papers before him. In the mind of the latter a hurried debate was going on.
“What had I better do? I might send him up to the doctor and perhaps get him expelled. It might be the best thing for him too, for if those two have got hold of him he’s sure to go wrong. I can’t do anything to keep him from them. And yet, I promised old Wynd — I must try; I might help to keep him straight. God help me!”
Is the reader astonished that the captain of a great public school should so far forget himself as to utter a secret prayer in his own study about such a matter as the correction of a young scapegrace? It
“God help me,” said Riddell to himself, and he felt his mind wonderfully cleared already as he said it.
Clearer, that is, as to what he ought to do, but still rather embarrassed as to how to do it. But he meant to try.
“I say, Wyndham,” he said, in his quiet way. “I want to ask your advice.”
“What about?” asked Wyndham, looking up in surprise. “About those fellows?”
“Not exactly. It’s more about myself,” said the captain.
“What about you?” asked Wyndham.
“Why, there’s a fellow in the school I’m awfully anxious to do some good to,” began Riddell.
“Rather a common failing of yours,” said Wyndham.
“Wanting to do it is more common than doing it,” said Riddell; “but I don’t know how to tackle this fellow, Wyndham.”
“Who is he? Do I know him?” asked the boy.
“I’m not sure that you know him particularly well,” said the captain. “He’s not a bad fellow; in fact he has a lot of good in him.”
“Is he a Limpet?” asked Wyndham.
“But,” continued Riddell, not noticing the question, “he’s got a horrid fault. He won’t stand up for himself, Wyndham.”
“Oh,” observed Wyndham, “there’s a lot of them like that — regular cowards they are.”
“Exactly, this fellow’s one of them. He’s always funking it.”
Wyndham laughed.
“I know who you mean — Tedbury, isn’t it?”
“No, that’s not his name,” said Riddell. “He’s a nicer sort of fellow than Tedbury. There are one or two fellows that are always down on him, too. They see he’s no pluck, and so they think they can do what they like with him.”
“Meekins gets a good deal mauled about by some of the others,” said Wyndham.
“This fellow gets a good deal more damaged than Meekins,” said the captain. “In fact he gets so mauled his friends will soon hardly be able to recognise him.”
Wyndham looked sharply at the speaker. Riddell was quite grave and serious, and proceeded quietly, “The worst of it is, this fellow’s quite well able to stick up for himself if he likes, and could easily hold his own. Only he’s lazy, or else he likes getting damaged.”
“Are you making all this up?” demanded Wyndham colouring.
Riddell took no notice of the inquiry, but continued rather more earnestly, “Now I’d like your advice, Wyndham, old fellow. I want to do this fellow a good turn. Which do you suppose would be the best turn to do him; to pitch into the fellows that are always doing him harm? or to try to persuade him to stick up for himself and not let them do just what they like with him, eh?”
Wyndham had seen it all before the question was ended, and hung down his head in silence.
Riddell did not disturb him, but waited quietly, and, if truth be told, anxiously, till he should reply.
Presently the boy looked up with a troubled face, and said, “I know I’m an awful fool, Riddell.”
“But you’re not obliged to be,” said the captain, cheerily.
“I’ll try not to be, I really will,” said Wyndham. “Only—”
“Only what?” asked Riddell, after a pause.
“Only somehow I never think of it at the time.”
“I know,” said Riddell, kindly.
“Why only this afternoon,” said Wyndham, drawn out by the sympathy of his companion, “I tried to object to going down to the town, and they made up some excuse, so that I would have seemed like a regular prig to hold out, and so I went. I’m awfully sorry now. I know I’m a coward, Riddell; I ought to have stuck out.”
“I think you ought,” said Riddell; “they would probably have laughed at you, and possibly tried to bully you a bit. But you can take care of yourself, I fancy, when it comes to that, eh?”
“I can about the bullying,” said Wyndham.
“And so,” said Riddell, “you really advise me to say to this fellow I was telling you about, to stand up for himself and not let himself be led about by any one?”
“Except you, Riddell,” said the boy.
“No,” said Riddell, “not even me.
“I should like to know who can, if you can’t?” said Wyndham.
“I think we both know,” said Riddell, gravely.
The conversation ended here. For an hour and a half after that each boy was busy over his work, and neither spoke a word. Their thoughts may not all have been in the books before them; in fact it may safely be said they were not. But they were thoughts that did not require words. Only when Wyndham rose to go, and wished his friend good-night, Riddell indirectly referred to the subject of their talk.
“By the way, Wyndham, Isaacs has given up the school librarianship; I suppose you know. How would you like to take it?”