_ CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE. A VOCAL, INSTRUMENTAL, AND DRAMATIC ENTERTAINMENT IN THE FOURTH JUNIOR
Now among those who were present to witness the famous "rush-up" of Greenfield senior and Wraysford, which ended in the fall of the County goal, was one boy who showed very little enthusiasm over the achievement, or very little delight at the glory which the school thereby derived.
Loman, who, unable to sit in his study, and not knowing what else to do, had wandered almost instinctively to the meadow, found himself on this particular afternoon one of the most miserable boys in Saint Dominic's.
Two years ago, when he first entered the school, he was popular with his fellows and voted an acquisition on the cricket-ground and football-field whenever the youth of Saint Dominic's strove in emulation against their rivals. He could remember a time when fellows strolled arm-in-arm with him down to the matches; when the small boys looked quite meek in his presence, and the masters gave a friendly nod in answer to his salutes. That was when he was quite new at Saint Dominic's; but how changed now! This afternoon, for instance, as he stood looking on, he had the cheerful knowledge that not a boy in all that assembly cared two straws about him. Why wasn't _he_ playing in the match? Why did the fellows, as they came near him, look straight in front of them, or go round to avoid him? Why did the Guinea-pigs and Tadpoles strut about and crack their vulgar jokes right under his very nose, as if he was nobody? Alas, Loman! something's been wrong with you for the last year or thereabouts; and if we don't all know the cause, we can see the effect. For it is a fact, you _are_ nobody in the eyes of Saint Dominic's at the present time.
However, he was destined to become a somebody pretty soon; and, indeed, as soon as the football match was over, and the supper after it was disposed of, and the Guinea-pigs and Tadpoles (who, you know, had selected this same afternoon _for their_ great football match) had ceased their rows in slumber, every one's mind, at least the mind of every one in the two head forms, turned naturally to the strange and mysterious event of the morning. What various conclusions they came to it is not for me to set down here. They probably came to as good a conclusion as the reader has done, and waited impatiently to have the whole thing cleared up.
And it looked as if the Doctor were about to do this next morning, for he summoned together the Fifth and Sixth, and thus solemnly addressed them:--
"Before we begin the lesson for the day, boys, I wish to refer to an incident that happened here yesterday morning, which must be fresh in your memories. I mean the accidental discovery of the lost examination paper for the Nightingale Scholarship. I hope you will not draw hasty conclusions from what then occurred. The boy in whose book the paper was found is present here, and has assured me on his honour he never saw the paper before, and is quite ignorant how it came into his book. That is so, Loman?"
"Yes, sir," replied Loman.
"When a boy makes a statement to me on his honour, I accept it as such," said the Doctor, very gravely, and looking hard at the boy. "I accept it as such--"
Loman sat motionless with his eyes on the desk before him.
"But," went on the Doctor, turning again to the boys, "before I dismiss the subject I must do justice to one among you who I find, much to my pain, has been an object of suspicion in connection with this same lost paper. Greenfield senior, I have no hesitation in saying, is perfectly clear of any such imputation as that you put upon him. I may say in his presence I believe him to be incapable of a fraudulent and mean act; and further than that, you boys will be interested to hear that the questions which he answered so brilliantly in that examination were not the questions which appeared on the lost paper at all, but an entirely new set, which for my own satisfaction I drew up on the morning of examination itself."
This announcement _did_ interest every one--the Fifth particularly, who felt their own humiliation now fourfold as they looked at Oliver, and thought of what their conduct to him had been.
It interested Oliver and Wraysford as much as any one, but for a different reason. Supposing Loman had taken the paper--this was the reflection which darted through both their minds--supposing Loman _had_ taken the paper and worked up the answers from it, might not the sudden change of questions described by the Doctor account for the low place he had taken in the exam?
Altogether the Doctor's speech left things (except as concerned Oliver) not much more satisfactory than before. The natural impulse of everybody was to suspect Loman. But, then, six months ago the natural impulse had been equally as strong to suspect Oliver, and--well, that had somehow turned out a bad "spec," and so might this.
So Saint Dominic's really didn't know what to think, and settled down to the work of the term in an uneasy frame of mind, wishing something would turn up, to end the wretched affair of the lost paper definitely one way or another.
Of course the report of the new state of affairs soon penetrated down to the lower school, and the Guinea-pigs and Tadpoles at any rate were not slow in making up _their_ minds on the burning question.
They turned out in a body and hooted Loman up and down the passages with as much, if not more, glee than some of them had lately hooted Oliver. "Yah, boo! Who stole the exam paper?--there! old Loman." Such were the cries which presently became familiar in the school, until one day Mr Rastle dropped down on some twenty of the "howlers," and set them each twelve propositions of Euclid to learn by heart, and two hours a-piece in the detention-room, there to meditate over their evil ways.
The quiet of the lower school during the next week was something delicious.
The tyrannical proceeding on the part of Mr Rastle provoked bitter indignation, of course, in the breasts of the culprits. Why weren't they to be allowed to express their feelings? And if Rastle did want to "pot" them, why should he give them Euclid to learn, when he knew perfectly well Euclid was the very thing not one of them _could_ learn by heart? And if he did want to detain them, why _ever_ should he fix on the identical week in which the grand "Vocal, Instrumental, and Dramatic Entertainment" of the Fourth Junior was due to come off.
It was an abominable piece of spite, that was a fact; and Mr Rastle was solemnly condemned one evening in the dormitory to be blown up with dynamite at the first convenient opportunity. Meanwhile, come what would, the "Vocal, Instrumental, and Dramatic Entertainment" _should_ come off, if it cost every man Jack of the "entertainers" his head.
Stephen, who by this time was a person of authority in his class, was appointed president of the "V. I. and D. Society." The manner of his election to this honourable office had been peculiar, but emphatic. He had been proposed by Paul and seconded by himself in a short but elegant speech, in which he asserted he would only serve if his appointment was unanimous. It _was_ unanimous, for directly after this magnanimous statement he and Paul and a few others proceeded summarily to eject Bramble, Padger, and others who showed signs of opposition; and then, locking the door, proceeded to an immediate vote, which, amid loud Guinea-pig cheers, was declared to be unanimous, one contumacious Tadpole, who had escaped notice, having his hands held down by his sides during the ceremony. As soon as the doors were open, Bramble, who had meanwhile collected a large muster of adherents, rushed in, and, turning out all the Guinea-pigs, had himself elected treasurer, and Padger honorary secretary. These exciting appointments having been made, the meeting was "thrown open," a programme was drawn up, and the preparations were in a very forward state when the sad interruption occasioned by Mr Rastle's brutal conduct took place. But if Mr Rastle thought he was going to extinguish the "Vocal, Instrumental, and Dramatic Entertainment" he was woefully mistaken.
As soon as ever, by superhuman exertions, Bramble and a few others of the "potted" ones had struggled through their Euclid, and served their term of detention, an evening was fixed upon for the great event to come off.
Immediately a question arose. Should the public be admitted?
"Rather!" exclaimed Bramble, the treasurer, "five bob each."
"Masters half price," suggested Padger.
"Greenfield senior free!" shouted the loyal Paul.
"Bah! do you think Greenfield senior would come to hear you spout, you young muff!" roared the amiable Bramble.
"I know what he would come for," retorted Paul, "and I'd come with him too. Guess!"
"Shan't guess. Shall I, Padger?"
"May as well," suggested Padger.
"He'd come," cried Paul, not waiting for the Tadpole to guess--"he'd come a mile to see you hung. So would I--there!"
It was some time before the meeting got back to the subject of admitting the public. But it was finally agreed that, though the public were not to be invited, the door should be left open, and any one ("presenting his card," young Bilbury suggested) might come in, with the exception of Loman, Mr Rastle, Tom Braddy, and the school cat.
For the next few days the Guinea-pigs and Tadpoles were busy, learning their parts, practising their songs, arranging all the details of their dramatic performance, and so on; and Mr Rastle had to "pot" one or two more of them, and detain one or two others, before he could get anything like the ordinary work of the class done. All this the young vocal, instrumental, and dramatic enthusiasts bore patiently, devoting so many extra ounces of dynamite to Mr Rastle's promised blow-up for each offence.
At last the festival day arrived. Stephen, on whom, somehow, all the work had devolved, while the talking and discussion of knotty points had fallen on his two brother officers, looked quite pale and anxious on the eventful morning.
"Well, young 'un," said Oliver, "I suppose Wray and I are to be allowed to come and see the fun to-night."
"Yes," said Stephen, with considerable misgivings about the "fun."
"All serene; we'll be there, won't we, Wray? Not the first Guinea-pig kick-up we've been witness to, either."
"Do you think Pembury will come?" asked Stephen, nervously.
"Oh, rather. He'll have to report it in the next _Dominican_. I'll see he comes."
"Oh, I think he needn't mind," said Stephen, with a queer shyness; "I could write out a report for him."
"Oh, I dare say; a nice report that would be. No, Tony must be there. He wouldn't miss it for a five-pound note."
Stephen retired to report these rather alarming prospects of an audience to his comrades.
"Talking of five-pound notes," said Wraysford, after he had gone, "does Loman ever mean to pay up that 8 pounds?"
"I don't know; it doesn't look like it," said Oliver. "The fact is, he came to me yesterday to borrow another pound for something or another. He said Cripps had been up to the school and tried to make out that there was another owing, and had threatened, unless he got it, at once to speak to the head master."
"Did you lend it him?" said Wraysford. "It's a regular swindle."
"I hadn't got it to lend. I told him I was sure the fellow was a thief, and advised him to tell the Doctor."
"What did he say?"
"Oh, he got in an awful state, and said he would get into no end of a row, and wouldn't for the world have the Doctor know a word of it."
"I don't like it at all," said Wraysford. "Don't you have more to do than you can help with that business, Noll, old man."
"But the poor beggar seems regularly at his wits' end."
"Never mind; you'll do him and yourself no good by lending him money."
"Well, I haven't done so, for a very good reason, as I tell you. But I'm sorry for him. I do believe he can't see that he's being fleeced. He made me promise not to utter a word of it to the Doctor, so I really don't know how to help him."
"It's my impression he's good reason to be afraid of the Doctor just now," said Wraysford. "That Nightingale business has yet to be cleared up."
The two friends pursued this disagreeable topic no farther, but agreed, for all Loman wasn't a nice boy, and for all they had neither of them much cause to love him, they would see the next day if they could not do something to help him in his difficulty. Meanwhile they gave themselves over to the pure and refined enjoyment of the "Vocal, Instrumental, and Dramatic Entertainment."
At seven that evening, after tea, the Fourth Junior room became a centre of attraction to all Saint Dominic's. Fellows from the Sixth and Fifth, always ready for novelty in the way of amusement, looked in to see the sport. The Fourth Senior grandly condescended to witness the vulgar exploits of their juniors, and the other classes were most of them represented by one or more spectators.
The programme had been carefully got up. Stephen took the chair solemnly at the appointed hour, and with a great deal of stammering announced that the proceedings were now about to commence, and then sat down. An awful pause ensued. At first it was borne with interest, then with impatience; then, when Stephen began to whisper to Paul, and Paul began to signal to Bramble, and Bramble gesticulated in dumb show at Padger, and all four whispered together, and finally looked very gravely in an opposite direction to the audience, then they began to be amused.
"Oh," said Stephen, very red, turning round abruptly after this awkward pause had continued for a minute or two--"oh, that was wrong; he doesn't begin, and the other fellow's away. Look here, Bramble, do your thing now."
"No, I can't," whispered Bramble in an audible voice. "I've forgotten the first line."
"Something about a kid asleep," suggested Padger, also audibly.
"Oh, yes," said Bramble, starting up and blushing very red as he began.
"'Lines on Seeing my Wife and Two Children Asleep'--Hood."
This modest announcement of his subject was overwhelming in itself, and was greeted with such yells of laughter that the poor elocutionist found it utterly impossible to go on. He tried once or twice, but never got beyond the first half line.
"And has the earth--" and here he stuck, but in answer to the cheers began again, looking round for Padger to help.
"And has the earth--(Go it, Padger, give a fellow a leg up, can't you?)"
"I can't find the place," said Padger, very hot and flurried, and whipping over the pages of a book with his moist thumb.
"And has the earth--(Look in the index, you lout! Oh, won't I give it to you afterwards!)" once more began the wretched Bramble. He got no farther. Even had he remembered the words his voice could never have risen above the laughter, which continued as long as he remained on his feet.
He retired at length in dudgeon, and Stephen called on Paul for a song. This went off better, only everybody stamped the time with his feet, so that the singer could neither be heard for the row nor seen for the dust. After that followed another "reading." This time the subject was a humorous one--"Ben Battle," by T. Hood. Every one, by the way, chose Hood. It was the only poetry-book to be had in the Fourth Junior. The reading progressed satisfactorily for the first two lines--indeed, until a joke occurred, and here the reader was so overcome with the humour of the thing that he broke into a laugh, and every time he tried to begin the next line he laughed before he could get it out, until at last it got to be quite as monotonous as watching the hyena at the Zoological Gardens. Finally he did get through the line, but in a voice so weak, wavering by reason of his efforts not to laugh, that the effect was more ludicrous than ever. He could get no farther, however. For the recollection of the joke that had passed, and the anticipation of the one that was coming, fairly doubled him up, and he let the book drop out of his hands in the middle of one of his convulsions.
The next performance was an "instrumental" one, which bade fair to be a great success. Four of the boys had learned to whistle "Home, Sweet Home" in parts, and were now about to ravish the audience with this time-honoured melody. They stood meekly side by side in a straight line facing the audience, waiting for the leader to begin, and screwing their mouths up into the proper shape. Just as the signal was given, and each had taken a long breath and was in the act of letting out, some lout in the audience laughed! The result may be imagined. The first note, which was to have been so beautiful, sounded just like the letting off of steam from four leaky safety-valves, and no effort could recover the melody. The more they tried the more they laughed. The more they laughed the more the audience roared. There they stood, with faces of mingled agony and mirth, frantically trying to get the sound out; but it never came, and they finally had to retire, leaving the audience to imagine what the effect of "Home, Sweet Home" might have been had they only got at it.
However, as the "dramatic" performance came next, the audience were comforted. The modest subject chosen was _Hamlet_.
Stephen, who was combining the duties of master of the ceremonies with those of president, rose and said to the company, "All turn round, and don't look till I tell you."
Of course every one pretended to turn round, and of course everybody looked as hard as he could. And they saw Bramble hop up on a chair and lower the gas, to represent night. And they saw Paul and Padger stick up two or three forms on end, to represent a castle. And they saw two other boys walk majestically on to the platform in ulsters and billycock hats, and their trousers turned up, and sticks in their hands to represent soldiers.
"Now you can turn round," cried Stephen.
They did turn round, just at the very moment when Bramble, attempting to lower the gas still further, turned it right out. The effect was remarkable. No one and nothing was visible, but out of the black darkness came the following singular dialogue:--
"_Who's there_?"
"Have you got a lucifer about you, any of you?"
"_Nay, answer me. Stand and unfold yourself_."
"Don't be a fool (in agitated accents); you're shoving me off the platform."
"Why don't you light up?"
"_Long live the king_."
"Ah, here's one. What's become of the chair?"
Next moment, amid great applause, the gas was re-lit, and the thrilling tragedy proceeded.
It went on all right till the ghost enters, and here another calamity occurred. Padger was acting ghost, dressed up in a long sheet, and with flour on his face. Being rather late in coming on, he did so at a very unghostlike pace, and in the hurry tripped up on the bottom of his sheet, falling flop on the platform, which, being none of the cleanest, left an impression of dust on his face and garment, which greatly added to the horror of his appearance. He recovered the perpendicular with the help of two soldiers and a few friends, and was about to proceed with his part, when the door suddenly opened and Mr Rastle appeared.
He had evidently not come to see the show--indeed he hardly seemed aware that a show was going on. His face was grave, and his voice agitated, as he said--
"Has any one here seen Loman?"
No one had seen him since breakfast that morning.
"Is Greenfield senior here?"
"Yes, sir," answered Oliver.
"Will you come with me to the Doctor at once, please?"
Oliver was out in the passage in a moment, and hurrying with the master to Dr Senior's study.
"I'm afraid," said Mr Rastle, as they went--"I'm afraid something has happened to Loman!" _