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CHAPTER XVI - DRUMMOND GOES INTO RETIREMENT
The return journey of a school team after a crushing defeat in a
foreign match is never a very exhilarating business. Those members of
the side who have not yet received their colours are wondering which of
them is to be sacrificed to popular indignation and "chucked": the
rest, who have managed to get their caps, are feeling that even now
two-thirds of the school will be saying that they are not worth a place
in the third fifteen; while the captain, brooding apart, is becoming
soured at the thought that Posterity will forget what little good he
may have done, and remember only that it was in his year that the
school got so many points taken off them by So-and-So. Conversation
does not ripple and sparkle during these home-comings. The Wrykyn team
made the journey in almost unbroken silence. They were all stiff and
sore, and their feelings were such as to unfit them for talking to
people.
The school took the thing very philosophically--a bad sign. When a
school is in a healthy, normal condition, it should be stirred up by a
bad defeat by another school, like a disturbed wasps' nest. Wrykyn made
one or two remarks about people who could not play footer for toffee,
and then let the thing drop.
Sheen was too busy with his work and his boxing to have much leisure
for mourning over this latest example of the present inefficiency of
the school. The examination for the Gotford was to come off in two
days, and the inter-house boxing was fixed for the following Wednesday.
In five days, therefore, he would get his chance of retrieving his lost
place in the school. He was certain that he could, at any rate make a
very good show against anyone in the school, even Drummond. Joe Bevan
was delighted with his progress, and quoted Shakespeare volubly in his
admiration. Jack Bruce and Francis added their tribute, and the knife
and boot boy paid him the neatest compliment of all by refusing
point-blank to have any more dealings with him whatsoever. His
professional duties, explained the knife and boot boy, did not include
being punched in the heye by blokes, and he did not intend to be put
upon.
"You'll do all right," said Jack Bruce, as they were motoring home, "if
they'll let you go in for it all. But how do you know they will? Have
they chosen the men yet?"
"Not yet. They don't do it till the day before. But there won't be any
difficulty about that. Drummond will let me have a shot if he thinks
I'm good enough."
"Oh, you're good enough," said Bruce.
And when, on Monday evening, Francis, on receipt of no fewer than four
blows in a single round--a record, shook him by the hand and said that
if ever he happened to want a leetle darg that was a perfect bag of
tricks and had got a pedigree, mind you, he, Francis, would be proud to
supply that animal, Sheen felt that the moment had come to approach
Drummond on the subject of the house boxing. It would be a little
awkward at first, and conversation would probably run somewhat stiffly;
but all would be well once he had explained himself.
But things had been happening in his absence which complicated the
situation. Allardyce was having tea with Drummond, who had been
stopping in with a sore throat. He had come principally to make
arrangements for the match between his house and Seymour's in the
semi-final round of the competition.
"You're looking bad," he said, taking a seat.
"I'm feeling bad," said Drummond. For the past few days he had been
very much out of sorts. He put it down to a chill caught after the
Ripton match. He had never mustered up sufficient courage to sponge
himself with cold water after soaking in a hot bath, and he
occasionally suffered for it.
"What's up?" inquired Allardyce.
"Oh, I don't know. Sort of beastly feeling. Sore throat. Nothing much.
Only it makes you feel rather rotten."
Allardyce looked interested.
"I say," he said, "it looks as if--I wonder. I hope you haven't."
"What?"
"Mumps. It sounds jolly like it."
"Mumps! Of course I've not. Why should I?"
Allardyce produced a letter from his pocket. "I got this from Keith,
the Ripton captain, this morning. You know they've had a lot of the
thing there. Oh, didn't you? That was why they had such a bad team
out."
"Bad team!" murmured Drummond.
"Well, I mean not their best team. They had four of their men down with
mumps. Here's what Keith says. Listen. Bit about hoping we got back all
right, and so on, first. Then he says--here it is, 'Another of our
fellows has got the mumps. One of the forwards; rather a long man who
was good out of touch. He developed it a couple of days after the
match. It's lucky that all our card games are over. We beat John's,
Oxford, last Wednesday, and that finished the card. But it'll rather
rot up the House matches. We should have walked the cup, but there's no
knowing what will happen now. I hope none of your lot caught the mumps
from Browning during the game. It's quite likely, of course. Browning
ought not to have been playing, but I had no notion that there was
anything wrong with him. He never said he felt bad.' You've got it,
Drummond. That's what's the matter with you."
"Oh, rot," said Drummond. "It's only a chill."
But the school doctor, who had looked in at the house to dose a small
Seymourite who had indulged too heartily in the pleasures of the table,
had other views, and before lockup Drummond was hurried off to the
infirmary.
Sheen went to Drummond's study after preparation had begun, and was
surprised to find him out. Not being on speaking terms with a single
member of the house, he was always out-of-date as regarded items of
school news. As a rule he had to wait until Jack Bruce told him before
learning of any occurrence of interest. He had no notion that mumps was
the cause of Drummond's absence, and he sat and waited patiently for
him in his study till the bell rang for prayers. The only possible
explanation that occurred to him was that Drummond was in somebody
else's study, and he could not put his theory to the test by going and
looking. It was only when Drummond did not put in an appearance at
prayers that Sheen began to suspect that something might have happened.
It was maddening not to be able to make inquiries. He had almost
decided to go and ask Linton, and risk whatever might be the
consequences of such a step, when he remembered that the matron must
know. He went to her, and was told that Drummond was in the infirmary.
He could not help seeing that this made his position a great deal more
difficult. In ten minutes he could have explained matters to Drummond
if he had found him in his study. But it would be a more difficult task
to put the thing clearly in a letter.
Meanwhile, it was bed-time, and he soon found his hands too full with
his dormitory to enable him to think out the phrasing of that letter.
The dormitory, which was recruited entirely from the junior day-room,
had heard of Drummond's departure with rejoicings. They liked Drummond,
but he was a good deal too fond of the iron hand for their tastes. A
night with Sheen in charge should prove a welcome change.
A deafening uproar was going on when Sheen arrived, and as he came into
the room somebody turned the gas out. He found some matches on the chest
of drawers, and lit it again just in time to see a sportive youth tearing
the clothes off his bed and piling them on the floor. A month before he
would not have known how to grapple with such a situation, but his
evenings with Joe Bevan had given him the habit of making up his mind
and acting rapidly. Drummond was wont to keep a swagger-stick by his
bedside for the better observance of law and order. Sheen possessed
himself of this swagger-stick, and reasoned with the sportive youth.
The rest of the dormitory looked on in interested silence. It was a
critical moment, and on his handling of it depended Sheen's victory or
defeat. If he did not keep his head he was lost. A dormitory is
merciless to a prefect whose weakness they have discovered.
Sheen kept his head. In a quiet, pleasant voice, fingering the
swagger-stick, as he spoke, in an absent manner, he requested his young
friend to re-make the bed--rapidly and completely. For the space of
five minutes no sound broke the silence except the rustle of sheets and
blankets. At the end of that period the bed looked as good as new.
"Thanks," said Sheen gratefully. "That's very kind of you."
He turned to the rest of the dormitory.
"Don't let me detain you," he said politely. "Get into bed as soon as
you like."
The dormitory got into bed sooner than they liked. For some reason the
colossal rag they had planned had fizzled out. They were thoughtful as
they crept between the sheets. Could these things be?
* * * * *
After much deliberation Sheen sent his letter to Drummond on the
following day. It was not a long letter, but it was carefully worded.
It explained that he had taken up boxing of late, and ended with a
request that he might be allowed to act as Drummond's understudy in the
House competitions.
It was late that evening when the infirmary attendant came over with
the answer.
Like the original letter, the answer was brief.
"Dear Sheen," wrote Drummond, "thanks for the offer. I am afraid I
can't accept it. We must have the best man. Linton is going to box for
the House in the Light-Weights."
Content of CHAPTER XVI - DRUMMOND GOES INTO RETIREMENT [P G Wodehouse's novel: White Feather]
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