_
CHAPTER XVII - SEYMOUR'S ONE SUCCESS
This polite epistle, it may be mentioned, was a revised version of the
one which Drummond originally wrote in reply to Sheen's request. His
first impulse had been to answer in the four brief words, "Don't be a
fool"; for Sheen's letter had struck him as nothing more than a
contemptible piece of posing, and he had all the hatred for poses which
is a characteristic of the plain and straightforward type of mind. It
seemed to him that Sheen, as he expressed it to himself, was trying to
"do the boy hero". In the school library, which had been stocked during
the dark ages, when that type of story was popular, there were numerous
school stories in which the hero retrieved a rocky reputation by
thrashing the bully, displaying in the encounter an intuitive but
overwhelming skill with his fists. Drummond could not help feeling that
Sheen must have been reading one of these stories. It was all very fine
and noble of him to want to show that he was No Coward After All, like
Leo Cholmondeley or whatever his beastly name was, in _The Lads of
St. Ethelberta's_ or some such piffling book; but, thought Drummond
in his cold, practical way, what about the house? If Sheen thought that
Seymour's was going to chuck away all chance of winning one of the
inter-house events, simply in order to give him an opportunity of doing
the Young Hero, the sooner he got rid of that sort of idea, the better.
If he wanted to do the Leo Cholmondeley business, let him go and chuck
a kid into the river, and jump in and save him. But he wasn't going to
have the house let in for twenty Sheens.
Such were the meditations of Drummond when the infirmary attendant
brought Sheen's letter to him; and he seized pencil and paper and
wrote, "Don't be a fool". But pity succeeded contempt, and he tore up
the writing. After all, however much he had deserved it, the man had
had a bad time. It was no use jumping on him. And at one time they had
been pals. Might as well do the thing politely.
All of which reflections would have been prevented had Sheen thought of
mentioning the simple fact that it was Joe Bevan who had given him the
lessons to which he referred in his letter. But he had decided not to
do so, wishing to avoid long explanations. And there was, he felt, a
chance that the letter might come into other hands than those of
Drummond. So he had preserved silence on that point, thereby wrecking
his entire scheme.
It struck him that he might go to Linton, explain his position, and ask
him to withdraw in his favour, but there were difficulties in the way
of that course. There is a great deal of red tape about the athletic
arrangements of a house at a public school. When once an order has gone
forth, it is difficult to get it repealed. Linton had been chosen to
represent the house in the Light-Weights, and he would carry out
orders. Only illness would prevent him appearing in the ring.
Sheen made up his mind not to try to take his place, and went through
the days a victim to gloom, which was caused by other things besides
his disappointment respecting the boxing competition. The Gotford
examination was over now, and he was not satisfied with his
performance. Though he did not know it, his dissatisfaction was due
principally to the fact that, owing to his isolation, he had been
unable to compare notes after the examinations with the others. Doing
an examination without comparing notes subsequently with one's rivals,
is like playing golf against a bogey. The imaginary rival against whom
one pits oneself never makes a mistake. Our own "howlers" stand out in
all their horrid nakedness; but we do not realise that our rivals have
probably made others far worse. In this way Sheen plumbed the depths of
depression. The Gotford was a purely Classical examination, with the
exception of one paper, a General Knowledge paper; and it was in this
that Sheen fancied he had failed so miserably. His Greek and Latin
verse were always good; his prose, he felt, was not altogether beyond
the pale; but in the General Knowledge paper he had come down heavily.
As a matter of fact, if he had only known, the paper was an
exceptionally hard one, and there was not a single candidate for the
scholarship who felt satisfied with his treatment of it. It was to
questions ten, eleven, and thirteen of this paper that Cardew, of the
School House, who had entered for the scholarship for the sole reason
that competitors got excused two clear days of ordinary school-work,
wrote the following answer:
See "Encylopaedia Britannica," _Times_ edition.
If they really wanted to know, he said subsequently, that was the
authority to go to. He himself would probably misinform them
altogether.
In addition to the Gotford and the House Boxing, the House Fives now
came on, and the authorities of Seymour's were in no small perplexity.
They met together in Rigby's study to discuss the matter. Their
difficulty was this. There was only one inmate of Seymour's who had a
chance of carrying off the House Fives Cup. And that was Sheen. The
house was asking itself what was to be done about it.
"You see," said Rigby, "you can look at it in two ways, whichever you
like. We ought certainly to send in our best man for the pot, whatever
sort of chap he is. But then, come to think of it, Sheen can't very
well be said to belong to the house at all. When a man's been cut dead
during the whole term, he can't be looked on as one of the house very
well. See what I mean?"
"Of course he can't," said Mill, who was second in command at
Seymour's. Mill's attitude towards his fellow men was one of incessant
hostility. He seemed to bear a grudge against the entire race.
Rigby resumed. He was a pacific person, and hated anything resembling
rows in the house. He had been sorry for Sheen, and would have been
glad to give him a chance of setting himself on his legs again.
"You see." he said, "this is what I mean. We either recognise Sheen's
existence or we don't. Follow? We can't get him to win this Cup for us,
and then, when he has done it, go on cutting him and treating him as if
he didn't belong to the house at all. I know he let the house down
awfully badly in that business, but still, if he lifts the Fives Cup,
that'll square the thing. If he does anything to give the house a
leg-up, he must be treated as if he'd never let it down at all."
"Of course," said Barry. "I vote we send him in for the Fives."
"What rot!" said Mill. "It isn't as if none of the rest of us played
fives."
"We aren't as good as Sheen," said Barry.
"I don't care. I call it rot letting a chap like him represent the
house at anything. If he were the best fives-player in the world I
wouldn't let him play for the house."
Rigby was impressed by his vehemence. He hesitated.
"After all, Barry," he said, "I don't know. Perhaps it might--you see,
he did--well, I really think we'd better have somebody else. The house
has got its knife into Sheen too much just at present to want him as a
representative. There'd only be sickness, don't you think? Who else is
there?"
So it came about that Menzies was chosen to uphold the house in the
Fives Courts. Sheen was not surprised. But it was not pleasant. He was
certainly having bad luck in his attempts to do something for the
house. Perhaps if he won the Gotford they might show a little
enthusiasm. The Gotford always caused a good deal of interest in the
school. It was the best thing of its kind in existence at Wrykyn, and
even the most abandoned loafers liked to feel that their house had won
it. It was just possible, thought Sheen, that a brilliant win might
change the feelings of Seymour's towards him. He did not care for the
applause of the multitude more than a boy should, but he preferred it
very decidedly to the cut direct.
Things went badly for Seymour's. Never in the history of the house, or,
at any rate, in the comparatively recent history of the house, had
there been such a slump in athletic trophies. To begin with, they were
soundly beaten in the semi-final for the House football cup by
Allardyce's lot. With Drummond away, there was none to mark the captain
of the School team at half, and Allardyce had raced through in a manner
that must have compensated him to a certain extent for the poor time he
had had in first fifteen matches. The game had ended in a Seymourite
defeat by nineteen points to five.
Nor had the Boxing left the house in a better position. Linton fought
pluckily in the Light-Weights, but went down before Stanning, after
beating a representative of Templar's. Mill did not show up well in the
Heavy-Weights, and was defeated in his first bout. Seymour's were
reduced to telling themselves how different it all would have been if
Drummond had been there.
Sheen watched the Light-Weight contests, and nearly danced with
irritation. He felt that he could have eaten Stanning. The man was
quick with his left, but he couldn't _box_. He hadn't a notion of
side-stepping, and the upper-cut appeared to be entirely outside his
range. He would like to see him tackle Francis.
Sheen thought bitterly of Drummond. Why on earth couldn't he have given
him a chance. It was maddening.
The Fives carried on the story. Menzies was swamped by a Day's man. He
might just as well have stayed away altogether. The star of Seymour's
was very low on the horizon.
And then the house scored its one success. The headmaster announced it
in the Hall after prayers in his dry, unemotional way.
"I have received the list of marks," he said, "from the examiners for
the Gotford Scholarship." He paused. Sheen felt a sudden calm triumph
flood over him. Somehow, intuitively, he knew that he had won. He
waited without excitement for the next words.
"Out of a possible thousand marks, Sheen, who wins the scholarship,
obtained seven hundred and one, Stanning six hundred and four,
Wilson...."
Sheen walked out of the Hall in the unique position of a Gotford winner
with only one friend to congratulate him. Jack Bruce was the one. The
other six hundred and thirty-three members of the school made no
demonstration.
There was a pleasant custom at Seymour's of applauding at tea any
Seymourite who had won distinction, and so shed a reflected glory on
the house. The head of the house would observe, "Well played,
So-and-So!" and the rest of the house would express their emotion in
the way that seemed best to them, to the subsequent exultation of the
local crockery merchant, who had generally to supply at least a dozen
fresh cups and plates to the house after one of these occasions. When
it was for getting his first eleven or first fifteen cap that the lucky
man was being cheered, the total of breakages sometimes ran into the
twenties.
Rigby, good, easy man, was a little doubtful as to what course to
pursue in the circumstances. Should he give the signal? After all, the
fellow _had_ won the Gotford. It was a score for the house, and
they wanted all the scores they could get in these lean years. Perhaps,
then, he had better.
"Well played, Sheen," said he.
There was a dead silence. A giggle from the fags' table showed that the
comedy of the situation was not lost on the young mind.
The head of the house looked troubled. This was awfully awkward.
"Well played, Sheen," he said again.
"Don't mention it, Rigby," said the winner of the Gotford politely,
looking up from his plate.
Content of CHAPTER XVII - SEYMOUR'S ONE SUCCESS [P G Wodehouse's novel: White Feather]
_