Chapter Chapter 5 · Disgrace

ful exhibition of

grief.

Unhappily for him he found this safety-valve in a series of suppressed

but distinctly audible sniffs.

Mr. Bultitude bore this for some time with no other protest than an

occasional indignant bounce or a lowering frown in the offender's

direction, but at last his nerves, strung already to a high pitch by all

he had undergone, could stand it no longer.

"Dr. Grimstone," he said with polite determination, "I'm not a man to

complain without good reason, but really I must ask you to interfere.

Will you tell this boy here, on my right, either to control his feelings

or to cry into his pocket-handkerchief, like an ordinary human being? A

good honest bellow I can understand, but this infernal whiffling and

sniffing, sir, I will not put up with. It's nothing less than unnatural

in a boy of that size."

"Kiffin," said the Doctor, "are you crying?"

"N--no, sir," faltered Kiffin; "I--I think I must have caught cold,

sir."

"I hope you are telling me the truth, because I should be sorry to

believe you were beginning your new life in a spirit of captiousness and

rebellion. I'll have no mutineers in my camp. I'll establish a spirit of

trustful happiness and unmurmuring content in this school, if I have to

flog every boy in it as long as I can stand over him! As for you,

Richard Bultitude, I have no words to express my pain and disgust at the

heartless irreverence with which you persist in mimicking and

burlesquing a fond and excellent parent. Unless I perceive, sir, in a

very short time a due sense of your error and a lively repentance, my

disapproval will take a very practical form."

Mr. Bultitude fell back into his seat with a gasp. It was hard to be

accused of caricaturing one's own self, particularly when conscious of

entire innocence in that respect, but even this was slight in comparison

with the discovery that he had been so blindly deceiving himself!

The Doctor evidently had failed to penetrate his disguise, and the

dreaded scene of elaborate explanation must be gone through after all.

The boys (with the exception of Kiffin) still found exquisite enjoyment

in this extraordinary and original exhibition, and waited eagerly for

further experiment on the Doctor's patience.

They were soon gratified. If there was one thing Paul detested more than

another, it was the smell of peppermint--no less than three office boys

had been discharged by him because, as he alleged, they made the clerks'

room reek with it,--and now the subtle searching odour of the hated

confection was gradually stealing into the compartment and influencing

its atmosphere.

He looked at Coggs, who sat on the seat opposite to him, and saw his

cheeks and lips moving in slow and appreciative absorption of something.

Coggs was clearly the culprit.

"Do you encourage your boys to make common nuisances of themselves in a

public place, may I ask, Dr. Grimstone?" he inquired, fuming.

"Some scarcely seem to require encouragement, Bultitude," said the

Doctor pointedly: "what is the matter now?"

"If he takes it medicinally," said Paul, "he should choose some other

time and place to treat his complaint. If he has a depraved liking for

the abominable stuff, for Heaven's sake make him refrain from it on

occasions when it is a serious annoyance to others!"

"Will you explain? Who and what are you talking about?"

"That boy opposite," said Paul, pointing the finger of denunciation at

the astonished Coggs; "he's sucking an infernal peppermint lozenge

strong enough to throw the train off the rails!"

"Is what Bultitude tells me true, Coggs?" demanded the Doctor in an

awful voice.

Coggs, after making several attempts to bolt the offending lozenge, and

turning scarlet meanwhile with confusion and coughing, stammered huskily

something to the effect that he had "bought the lozenges at a

chemist's," which he seemed to consider, for some reason, a mitigating

circumstance.

"Have you any more of this pernicious stuff about you?" said the Doctor.

Very slowly and reluctantly Coggs brought out of one pocket after

another three or four neat little white packets, made up with that

lavish expenditure of time, string, and sealing-wax, by which the

struggling chemist seeks to reconcile the public mind to a charge of two

hundred and fifty per cent. on cost price, and handed them to Dr.

Grimstone, who solemnly unfastened them one by one, glanced at their

contents with infinite disgust, and flung them out of window.

Then he turned to Paul with a look of more favour than he had yet shown

him. "Bultitude," he said, "I am obliged to you. A severe cold in the

head has rendered me incapable of detecting this insidious act of

insubordination and self-indulgence, on which I shall have more to say

on another occasion. Your moral courage and promptness in denouncing the

evil thing are much to your credit."

"Not at all," said Paul, "not at all, my dear sir. I mentioned it

because I--ah--happen to be peculiarly sensitive on the subject and----"

Here he broke off with a sharp yell, and began to rub his ankle. "One of

these young savages has just given me a severe kick; it's that fellow

over there, with the blue necktie. I have given him no provocation, and

he attacks me in this brutal manner, sir; I appeal to you for

protection!"

"So, Coker" (Coker wore a blue necktie), said the Doctor, "you emulate

the wild ass in more qualities than those of stupidity and stubbornness,

do you? You lash out with your hind legs at an inoffensive

school-fellow, with all the viciousness of a kangaroo, eh? Write out all

you find in Buffon's Natural History upon those two animals a dozen

times, and bring it to me by to-morrow evening. If I am to stable wild

asses, sir, they shall be broken in!"

Six pairs of sulky glowering eyes were fixed upon the unconscious Paul

for the rest of the journey; indignant protests and dark vows of

vengeance were muttered under cover of the friendly roar and rattle of

tunnels. But the object of them heard nothing; his composure was

returning once more in the sunshine of Dr. Grimstone's approbation, and

he almost decided on declaring himself in the station fly.

And now at last the train was grinding along discordantly with the

brakes on, and, after a little preliminary jolting and banging over the

points, drew up at a long lighted platform, where melancholy porters

paced up and down, croaking "Market Rodwell!" like so many Solomon

Eagles predicting woe.

Paul got out with the others, and walked forward to the guard's van,

where he stood shivering in the raw night air by a small heap of

portmanteaux and white clamped boxes.

"I should like to tell him all about it now," he thought, "if he wasn't

so busy. I'll get him to go in a cab alone with me, and get it over

before we reach the house."

Dr. Grimstone certainly did not seem in a very receptive mood for

confidences just then. No flys were to be seen, which he took as a

personal outrage, and visited upon the station-master in hot

indignation.

"It's scandalous, I tell you," he was saying: "scandalous! No cabs to

meet the train. My school reassembles to-day, and here I find no

arrangements made for their accommodation! Not even an omnibus! I shall

write to the manager and report this. Let some one go for a fly

immediately. Boys, go into the waiting room till I come to you.

Stay--there are too many for one fly. Coker, Coggs, and, let me see,

yes, Bultitude, you all know your way. Walk on and tell Mrs. Grimstone

we are coming."

Paul Bultitude was perhaps more relieved than disappointed by this

postponement of a disagreeable interview, though, if he had seen Coker

dig Coggs in the side with a chuckle of exultant triumph, he might have

had misgivings as to the prudence of trusting himself alone with them.

As it was he almost determined to trust the pair with his secret. "They

will be valuable witnesses," he said to himself, "that, whoever else I

may be, I am not Dick."

So he went on briskly ahead over a covered bridge and down some

break-neck wooden steps, and passed through the wicket out upon the

railed-in space, where the cabs and omnibuses should have been, but

which was now a blank spectral waste with a white ground-fog lurking

round its borders.

Here he was joined by his companions, who, after a little whispering,

came up one on either side and put an arm through each of his.

"Well," said Paul, thinking to banter them agreeably; "here you are,

young men, eh? Holidays all over now! Work while you're young, and

then---- Gad, you're walking me off my legs. Stop; I'm not as young as I

used to be----"

"Grim can't see us here, can he, Coker?" said Coggs when they had

cleared the gates and palings.

"Not he!" said Coker.

"Very well, then. Now then, young Bultitude, you used to be a decent

fellow enough last term, though you _were_ coxy. So, before we go any

further--what do you mean by this sort of thing?"

"Because," put in Coker, "if you aren't quite right in your head,

through your old governor acting like a brute all the holidays, as you

said he does, just say so, and we won't be hard on you."

"I--he--always an excellent father," stammered Paul. "What am I to

explain?"

"Why, what did you go and sneak of _him_ for bringing tuck back to

school for, eh?" demanded Coker.

"Yes, and sing out when he hacked your shin?" added Coggs; "and tell

Grimstone that new fellow was blubbing? Where's the joke in all that,

eh? Where's the joke?"

"You don't suppose I was bound to sit calmly down and allow you to suck

your villainous peppermints under my very nose, do you?" said Mr.

Bultitude. "Why shouldn't I complain if a boy annoys me by sniffing, or

kicks me on the ankle? Just tell me that? Suppose my neighbour has a

noisy dog or a smoky chimney, am I not to venture to tell him of it? Is

he to----"

But his arguments, convincing as they promised to be, were brought to a

sudden and premature close by Coker, who slipped behind him and

administered a sharp jog below his back, which jarred his spine and

caused him infinite agony.

"You little brute!" cried Paul, "I could have you up for assault for

that!"

But upon this Coggs did the very same thing only harder. "Last term

you'd have shown fight for much less, Bultitude," they both observed

severely, as some justification for repeating the process.

"Now, perhaps, you'll drop it for the future," said Coker. "Look here!

we'll give you one more chance. This sneaking dodge is all very well for

Chawner. Chawner could do that sort of thing without getting sat upon,

because he's a big fellow; but we're not going to stand it from you.

Will you promise on your sacred word of honour, now, to be a decent sort

of chap again, as you were last term?"

But Mr. Bultitude, though he longed for peace and quietness, dreaded

doing or saying anything to favour the impression that he was the

schoolboy he unluckily appeared to be, and he had not skill and tact

enough to dissemble and assume a familiar genial tone of equality with

these rough boys.

"You don't understand," he protested feebly. "If I could only tell

you----"

"We don't want any fine language, you know," said the relentless Coggs.

"Yes or no. Will you promise to be your old self again?"

"I only wish I could," said poor Mr. Bultitude--"but I can't!"

"Very well, then," said Coggs firmly, "we must try the torture. Coker,

will you screw the back of his hand, while I show him how they make

barley-sugar?"

And he gave Paul an interesting illustration of the latter branch of

industry by twisting his right arm round and round till he nearly

wrenched it out of the socket, while Coker seized his left hand and

pounded it vigorously with the first joint of his forefinger, causing

the unfortunate Paul to yell for mercy.

At last he could bear no more, and breaking away from his tormentors

with a violent effort, he ran frantically down the silent road towards a

house which he knew from former visits to be Dr. Grimstone's.

He was but languidly pursued, and, as the distance was short, he soon

gained a gate on the stuccoed posts of which he could read "Crichton

House" by the light of a neighbouring gas-lamp.

"This is a nice way," he thought, as he reached it breathless and

trembling, "for a father to visit his son's school!"

He had hoped to reach sanctuary before the other two could overtake him;

but he soon discovered that the gate was shut fast, and all his efforts

would not bring him within reach of the bell-handle--he was too short.

So he sat down on the doorstep in resigned despair, and waited for his

enemies. Behind the gate was a large many-windowed house, with steps

leading up to a portico. In the playground to his right the school

gymnasium, a great gallows-like erection, loomed black and grim through

the mist, the night wind favouring the ghastliness of its appearance by

swaying the ropes till they creaked and moaned weirdly on the hooks, and

the metal stirrups clinked and clashed against one another in irregular

cadence.

He had no time to observe more, as Coker and Coggs joined him, and, on

finding he had not rung the bell, seized the occasion to pummel him at

their leisure before announcing their arrival.

Then the gate was opened, and the three--the revengeful pair assuming an

air of lamb-like inoffensiveness--entered the hall and were met by Mrs.

Grimstone.

"Why, here you are!" she said, with an air of surprise, and kissing them

with real kindness. "How cold you look! So you actually had to walk. No

cabs as usual. You poor boys! come in and warm yourselves. You'll find

all your old friends in the schoolroom."

Mr. Bultitude submitted to be kissed with some reluctance, inwardly

hoping that Dr. Grimstone might never hear of it.

Mrs. Grimstone, it may be said here, was a stout, fair woman, not in the

least intellectual or imposing, but with a warm heart, and a way of

talking to and about boys that secured her the confidence of mothers

more effectually, perhaps, than the most polished conversation and

irreproachable deportment could have done.

She did not reserve her motherliness for the reception room either, as

some schoolmasters' wives have a tendency to do, and the smallest boy

felt less homesick when he saw her.

She opened a green baize outer door, and the door beyond it, and led

them into a long high room, with desks and forms placed against the

walls, and a writing table, and line of brown-stained tables down the

middle. Opposite the windows there was a curious structure of shelves

partitioned into lockers, and filled with rows of shabby schoolbooks.

The room had been originally intended for a drawing-room, as was evident

from the inevitable white and gold wall-paper and the tarnished gilt

beading round the doors and window shutters; the mantelpiece, too, was

of white marble, and the gaselier fitted with dingy crystal lustres.

But sad-coloured maps hung on the ink-splashed walls, and a clock with a

blank idiotic face (it is not every clock that possesses a decently

intelligent expression) ticked over the gilt pier-glass. The boards were

uncarpeted, and stained with patches of ink of all sizes and ages; while

the atmosphere, in spite of the blazing fire, had a scholastic blending

of soap and water, ink and slate-pencil in its composition, which

produced a chill and depressing effect.

On the forms opposite the fire some ten or twelve boys were sitting, a

few comparing notes as to their holiday experiences with some approach

to vivacity. The rest, with hands in pockets and feet stretched towards

the blaze, seemed lost in melancholy abstraction.

"There!" said Mrs. Grimstone cheerfully, "you'll have plenty to talk to

one another about. I'll send Tom in to see you presently!" And she left

them with a reassuring nod, though the prospect of Tom's company did not

perhaps elate them as much as it was intended to do.

Mr. Bultitude felt much as if he had suddenly been dropped down a

bear-pit, and, avoiding welcome and observation as well as he could, got

away into a corner, from which he observed his new companions with

uneasy apprehension.

"I say," said one boy, resuming the interrupted conversation, "did you

go to Drury Lane? Wasn't it stunning! That goose, you know, and the lion

in the forest, and all the wooden animals lumbering in out of the toy

Noah's Ark!"

"Why couldn't you come to our party on Twelfth-night?" asked another.

"We had great larks. I wish you'd been there!"

"I had to go to young Skidmore's instead," said a pale, spiteful-looking

boy, with fair hair carefully parted in the middle. "It was like his

cheek to ask me, but I thought I'd go, you know, just to see what it was

like."

"What was it like?" asked one or two near him languidly.

"Oh, awfully slow! They've a poky little house in Brompton somewhere,

and there was no dancing, only boshy games and a conjurer, without any

presents. And, oh! I say, at supper there was a big cake on the table,

and no one was allowed to cut it, because it was hired. They're so poor,

you know. Skidmore's pater is only a clerk, and you should see his

sisters!"

"Why, are they pretty?"

"Pretty! they're just like young Skidmore--only uglier; and just fancy,

his mother asked me 'if I was Skidmore's favourite companion, and if he

helped me in my studies?'"

The unfortunate Skidmore, when he returned, soon found reason to regret

his rash hospitality, for he never heard the last of the cake (which

had, as it happened, been paid for in the usual manner) during the rest

of the term.

There was a slight laugh at the enormity of Mrs. Skidmore's presumption,

and then a long pause, after which some one asked suddenly, "Does any

one know whether Chawner really has left this time?"

"I hope so," said a big, heavy boy, and his hope seemed echoed with a

general fervour. "He's been going to leave every term for the last year,

but I believe he really has done it this time. He wrote and told me he

wasn't coming back."

"Thank goodness!" said several, with an evident relief, and some one was

just observing that they had had enough of the sneaking business, when a

fly was heard to drive up, and the bell rang, whereupon everyone

abandoned his easy attitude, and seemed to brace himself up for a trying

encounter.

"Look out--here's Grimstone!" they whispered under their breaths, as

voices and footsteps were heard in the hall outside.

Presently the door of the schoolroom opened, and another boy entered the

room. Dr. Grimstone, it appeared, had not been the occupant of the fly,

after all. The new-comer was a tall, narrow-shouldered, stooping fellow,

with a sallow, unwholesome complexion, thin lips, and small sunken

brown eyes. His cheeks were creased with a dimpling subsmile, half

uneasy, half malicious, and his tread was mincing and catlike.

"Well, you fellows?" he said.

All rose at once, and shook hands effusively. "Why, Chawner!" they

cried, "how are you, old fellow? We thought you weren't coming back!"

There was a heartiness in their manner somewhat at variance with their

recent expressions of opinion; but they had doubtless excellent reasons

for any inconsistency.

"Well," said Chawner, in a low, soft voice, which had a suggestion of

feminine spitefulness, "I was going to leave, but I thought you'd be

getting into mischief here without me to watch over you. Appleton, and

Lench, and Coker want looking after badly, I know. So, you see, I've

come back after all."

He laughed with a little malevolent cackle as he spoke, and the three

boys named laughed too, though with no great heartiness, and shifting

the while uneasily on their seats.

After this sally the conversation languished until Tom Grimstone's

appearance. He strolled in with a semi-professional air, and shook hands

with affability.

Tom was a short, flabby, sandy-haired youth, not particularly beloved of

his comrades, and his first remark was, "I say, you chaps, have you done

your holiday task? Pa says he shall keep everyone in who hasn't. I've

done mine;" which, as a contribution to the general liveliness, was a

distinct failure.

Needless to say, the work imposed as a holiday occupation had been first

deferred, then forgotten, then remembered too late, and recklessly

defied with the confidence begotten in a home atmosphere.

Amidst a general silence Chawner happened to see Mr. Bultitude in his

corner, and crossed over to him. "Why, there's Dicky Bultitude there all

the time, and he never came to shake hands! Aren't you going to speak to

me?"

Paul growled something indistinctly, feeling strangely uncomfortable

and confused.

"What's the matter with him?" asked Chawner. "Does anyone know? Has he

lost his tongue?"

"He hadn't lost it coming down in the train," said Coker: "I wish he

had. I tell you what, you fellows--He--here's Grim at last! I'll tell

you all about it up in the bedroom."

And Dr. Grimstone really did arrive at this point, much to Paul's

relief, and looked in to give a grip of the hand and a few words to

those of the boys he had not seen.

Biddlecomb, Tipping, and the rest, came in with him, and the schoolroom

soon filled with others arriving by later trains, amongst the later

comers being the two house-masters, Mr. Blinkhorn and Mr. Tinkler; and

there followed a season of bustle and conversation, which lasted until

the Doctor touched a small hand-bell, and ordered them to sit down round

the tables while supper was brought in.

Mr. Bultitude was not sorry to hear the word "supper." He was faint and

dispirited, and although he had dined not very long since, thought that

perhaps a little cold beef and beer, or some warmed-up trifle, might

give him courage to tell his misfortunes before bedtime.

Of one thing he felt certain. Nothing should induce him to trust his

person in a bedroom with any of those violent and vindictive boys;

whether he succeeded in declaring himself that night or not, he would at

least insist on a separate bedroom. Meantime he looked forward to supper

as likely to restore geniality and confidence.

But the supper announced so imposingly proved to consist of nothing more

than two plates piled with small pieces of thinly-buttered bread, which

a page handed round together with tumblers of water; and Paul, in his

disappointment, refused this refreshment with more firmness than

politeness, as Dr. Grimstone observed.

"You got into trouble last term, Bultitude," he said sternly, "on

account of this same fastidious daintiness. Your excellent father has

informed me of your waste and gluttony at his own bountifully spread

table. Don't let me have occasion to reprove you for this again."

Mr. Bultitude, feeling the necessity of propitiating him, hastened to

take the two largest squares of bread and butter on the plate. They were

moist and thick, and he had considerable difficulty in disposing of

them, besides the gratification of hearing himself described as a "pig"

by his neighbours, who reproved him with a refreshing candour.

"I must get away from here," he thought, ruefully. "Dick seems very

unpopular. I wish I didn't feel so low-spirited and unwell. Why can't I

carry it off easily as--as a kind of joke? How hard these forms are, and

how those infernal boys did jog my back!"

Bedtime came at length. The boys filed, one by one, out of the room, and

the Doctor stood by the door to shake hands with them as they passed.

Mr. Bultitude lingered until the others had gone, for he had made up his

mind to seize this opportunity to open the Doctor's eyes to the mistake

he was making. But he felt unaccountably nervous; the diplomatic and

well-chosen introduction he had carefully prepared had left him at the

critical moment; all power of thought was gone with it, and he went

tremblingly up to the schoolmaster, feeling hopelessly at the mercy of

anything that chose to come out of his mouth.

"Dr. Grimstone," he began; "before retiring I--I must insist--I mean I

must request---- What I wish to say is----"

"I see," said the Doctor, catching him up sharply. "You wish to

apologise for your extraordinary behaviour in the railway carriage?

Well, though you made some amends afterwards, an apology is very right

and proper. Say no more about it."

"It's not that," said Paul hopelessly; "I wanted to explain----"

"Your conduct with regard to the bread and butter? If it was simply

want of appetite, of course there is no more to be said. But I have an

abhorrence of----"

"Quite right," said Paul, recovering himself; "I hate waste myself, but

there is something I must tell you before----"

"If it concerns that disgraceful conduct of Coker's," said the Doctor,

"you may speak on. I shall have to consider his case to-morrow. Has any

similar case of disobedience come to your knowledge? If so, I expect you

to disclose it to me. You have found some other boy with sweetmeats in

his possession?"

"Good Heavens, sir!" said Mr. Bultitude, losing his temper; "I haven't

been searching the whole school for sweetmeats! I have other things to

occupy my mind, sir. And, once for all, I demand to be heard! Dr.

Grimstone, there are, ahem, domestic secrets that can only be alluded to

in the strictest privacy. I see that one of your assistants is writing

at his table there. Cannot we go where there will be less risk of

interruption? You have a study, I suppose?"

"Yes, sir," said the Doctor with terrible grimness, "I have a study--and

I have a cane. I can convince you of both facts, if you wish it. If you

insult me again by this brazen buffoonery, I will! Be off to your

dormitory, sir, before you provoke me to punish you. Not another word!

Go!"

And, incredible as it may appear to all who have never been in his

position, Mr. Bultitude went. It was almost an abdication, it was

treachery to his true self; he knew the vital importance of firmness at

this crisis. But nevertheless his courage gave way all at once, and he

crawled up the bare, uncarpeted stairs without any further protest!

"Good night, Master Bultitude," said a housemaid, meeting him on the

staircase: "you know your bedroom. No. 6, with Master Coker, and Master

Biddlecomb, and the others."

Paul dragged himself up to the highest landing-stage, and, with a sick

foreboding, opened the door on which the figure 6 was painted.

It was a large bare plainly papered room, with several curtainless

windows, the blinds of which were drawn, a long deal stand of wash-hand

basins, and eight little white beds against the walls.

A fire was lighted in consideration of its being the first night, and

several boys were talking excitedly round it. "Here he is! He's stayed

behind to tell more tales!" they cried, as Paul entered nervously. "Now

then, Bultitude, what have you got to say for yourself?"

Mr. Bultitude felt powerless among all these young wolves. He had no

knowledge of boys, nor any notion of acquiring an influence over them,

having hitherto regarded them as necessary nuisances, to be rather

repressed than studied. He could only stare hopelessly at them in

fascinated silence.

"You see he hasn't a word to say for himself!" said Tipping. "Look here,

what shall we do to him? Shall we try tossing in a blanket? I've never

tried tossing a fellow in one myself, but as long as you don't jerk him

too high, or out on the floor, you can't hurt him dangerously."

"No, I say, don't toss him in a blanket," pleaded Biddlecomb, and Paul

felt gratefully towards him at the words; "anyone coming up would see

what was going on. I vote we flick at him with towels."

"Now just you understand this clearly," said Paul, thinking, not without

reason, that this course of treatment was likely to prove painful; "I

refuse to allow myself to be flicked at with towels. No one has ever

offered me such an indignity in my life! Oh, do you think I've not

enough on my mind as it is without the barbarities of a set of young

brutes like you!"

As this appeal was not of a very conciliatory nature they at once

proceeded to form a circle round him and, judging their distance with

great accuracy, jerked towels at his person with such diabolical

dexterity that the wet corners cut him at all points like so many fine

thongs, and he span round like a top, dancing, and, I regret to add,

swearing violently, at the pain.

When he was worked up almost to frenzy pitch Biddlecomb's sweet low

voice cried, "_Cave_, you fellows! I hear Grim. Let him undress now, and

we can lam it into him afterwards with slippers!"

At this they all cast off such of their clothes as they still wore, and

slipped modestly and peacefully into bed, just as Dr. Grimstone's large

form appeared at the doorway. Mr. Bultitude made as much haste as he

could, but did not escape a reprimand from the Doctor as he turned the

gas out; and as soon as he had made the round of the bedrooms and his

heavy tread had died away down the staircase, the light-hearted

occupants of No. 6 "lammed" it into the unhappy Paul until they were

tired of the exercise and left him to creep sore and trembling with rage

and fright into his cold hard bed.

Then, after a little desultory conversation, one by one sank from

incoherence into silence, and rose from silence to snores, while Paul

alone lay sleepless, listening to the creeping tinkle of the dying fire,

drearily wondering at the marvellous change that had come over his life

and fortunes in the last few hours, and feverishly composing impassioned

appeals which were to touch the Doctor's heart and convince his reason.

Chapter 5. Disgrace

"Well had the boding tremblers learned to trace

The day's disasters in his morning's face."

Sleep came at last, and brought too brief forgetfulness. It was not till

the dull grey light of morning was glimmering through the blinds that

Mr. Bultitude awoke to his troubles.

The room was bitterly cold, and he remained shivering in bed for some

time, trying to realise and prepare for his altered condition.

He was the only one awake. Now and then from one of the beds around a

boy would be heard talking in his sleep, or laughing with holiday

glee--at the drolleries possibly of some pantomime performed for his

amusement in the Theatre Royal, Dreamland--a theatre mercifully open to

all boys free of charge, long after the holidays have come to an end,

the only drawbacks being a certain want of definiteness in the plot and

scenery, and a liability to premature termination of the vaguely

splendid performance.

Once Kiffin, the new boy, awoke with a start and a heavy sigh, but he

cried himself to sleep again almost immediately.

Mr. Bultitude could bear being inactive no longer. He thought, if he got

up, he might perhaps see his misfortunes shrink to a more bearable, less

hopeless scale, and besides, he judged it prudent, for many reasons, to

finish his toilet before the sleepers began theirs.

Very stealthily, dreading to rouse anyone and attract attention in the

form of slippers, he broke the clinking crust of ice in one of the

basins and, shuddering from the shock, bathed face and hands in the

biting water. He parted his hair, which from natural causes he had been

unable to accomplish for some years, and now found an awkwardness in

accomplishing neatly, and then stole down the dark creaking staircase

just as the butler in the hall began to swing the big railway bell which

was to din stern reality into the sleepy ears above.

In the schoolroom a yawning maid had just lighted the fire, from which

turbid yellow clouds of sulphurous smoke were pouring into the room,

making it necessary to open the windows and lower a temperature that was

far from high originally.

Paul stood shaking by the mantelpiece in a very bad temper for some

minutes. If the Doctor had come in then, he might have been spurred by

indignation to utter his woes, and even claim and obtain his freedom.

But that was not to be.

The door did open presently, however, and a little girl appeared; a very

charming little maiden indeed, in a neat dark costume relieved by a

fresh white pinafore. She had deep grey eyes and glossy brown hair

falling over her forehead and down her back in soft straight masses, her

face was oval rather than round, and slightly serious, though her smile

was pretty and gay.

She ran towards Mr. Bultitude with a glad little cry, stretching out her

hands.

"Dick! dear Dick!" she said, "I am so glad! I thought you'd be down

early; as you used to be. I wanted to sit up last night so very much,

but mamma wouldn't let me."

Some might have been very glad to be welcomed in this way, even

vicariously. As for boys, it must have been a very bad school indeed

which Dulcie Grimstone could not have robbed of much of its terrors.

Mr. Bultitude, however, as has been explained, did not appreciate

children--being a family man himself. When one sees their petty

squabbles and jealousies, hears their cruel din, and pays for their

monkeyish mischief, perhaps the daintiest children seem but an earthly

order of cherubim. He was only annoyed and embarrassed by the

interruption, though he endured it.

"Ah," he said with condescension, "and so you're Dr. Grimstone's little

girl, are you? How d'ye do, my dear?"

Dulcie stopped and looked at him, with drawn eyebrows and her soft mouth

quivering. "What makes you talk like that?" she asked.

"How ought I to talk?" said Paul.

"You didn't talk like that before," said Dulcie plaintively. "I--I

thought perhaps you'd be glad to see me. You were once. And--and--when

you went away last you asked me to--to--kiss you, and I did, and I wish

I hadn't. And you gave me a ginger lozenge with your name written on it

in lead pencil, and I gave you a cough-lozenge with mine; and you said

it was to show that you were my sweetheart and I was yours. But I

suppose you've eaten the one I gave you?"

"This is dreadful!" thought Mr. Bultitude. "What shall I do now? The

child evidently takes me for that little scoundrel Dick." "Tut-tut," he

said aloud, "little girls like you are too young for such nonsense. You

ought to think about--about your dolls, and--ah, your needlework--not

sweethearts!"

"You say that now!" cried Dulcie indignantly. "You know I'm not a little

girl, and I've left off playing with dolls--almost. Oh, Dick, don't be

unkind! You haven't changed your mind, have you?"

"No," said Paul dismally, "I've changed my body. But there--you wouldn't

understand. Run away and play somewhere, like a good little girl!"

"I know what it is!" said Dulcie. "You've been out to parties, or

somewhere, and seen some horrid girl ... you like ... better than me!"

"This is absurd, you know," said Mr. Bultitude. "You can't think how

absurd it is! Now, you'll be a very foolish little girl if you cry.

You're making a mistake. I'm not the Dick you used to know!"

"I know you're not!" sobbed Dulcie. "But oh, Dick, you will be. Promise

me you will be!" And, to Paul's horror and alarm, she put her arms round

his neck, and cried piteously on his shoulder.

"Good gracious!" he cried, "let me go. Don't do that, for Heaven's sake!

I can hear some one coming. If it's your father, it will ruin me!"

But it was too late. Over her head he saw Tipping enter the room, and

stand glaring at them menacingly. Dulcie saw him too, and sprang away to

the window, where she tried to dry her eyes unperceived, and then ran

past him with a hurried good morning, and escaped, leaving Paul alone

with the formidable Tipping.

There was an awkward silence at first, which Tipping broke by saying,

"What have you been saying to make her cry, eh?"

"What's that to you, sir?" said Paul, trying to keep his voice firm.

"Why, it's just this to me," said Tipping, "that I've been spoons on

Dulcie myself ever since I came, and she never would have a word to say

to me. I never could think why, and now it turns out to be you! What do

you mean by cutting me out like this? I heard her call you 'dear Dick.'"

"Don't be an ass, sir!" said Paul angrily.

"Now, none of your cheek, you know!" said Tipping, edging up against him

with a dangerous inclination first to jostle aggressively, and then maul

his unconscious rival. "You just mind what I say. I'm not going to have

Dulcie bothered by a young beggar in the second form; she deserves

something better than that, anyway, and I tell you that if I once catch

you talking to her in the way you did just now, or if I hear of her

favouring you more than any other fellows, I'll give you the very

juiciest licking you ever had in your life. So look out!"

At this point the other boys began to straggle down and cluster round

the fire, and Paul withdrew from the aggrieved Tipping, and looked

drearily out of the window on the hard road and bare black trees

outside.

"I _must_ tell the Doctor how I'm situated!" he thought; "and yet

directly I open my mouth, he threatens to flog me. If I stay here, that

little girl will be always trying to speak to me, and I shall be

thrashed by the red-haired boy. If I could only manage to speak out

after breakfast!"

It was not without satisfaction that he remembered that he paid extra

for "meat for breakfast" in his son's school-bills, for he was beginning

to look forward to meal-time with the natural desire of a young and

healthy frame for nourishment.

At eight o'clock the Doctor came in and announced breakfast, leading

the way himself to what was known in the school as the "Dining Hall." It

scarcely deserved so high-sounding a name perhaps, being a long low room

on the basement floor, with a big fireplace, fitted with taps, and

baking ovens, which provoked the suspicion that it had begun existence

as a back kitchen.

The Doctor took his seat alone at a cross table forming the top of one

of the two rows of tables, set with white cups and saucers, and plates

well heaped with the square pieces of bread and butter, while Mrs.

Grimstone with Dulcie and Tom, sat at the foot of the same row, behind

two ugly urns of dull block-tin.

But when Mr. Bultitude, more hungry than he had felt for years, found

his place at one of the tables, he was disgusted to find upon his

plate--not, as he had confidently expected, a couple of plump poached

eggs, with their appetising contrast of ruddy gold and silvery white,

not a crisp and crackling sausage or a mottled omelette, not even the

homely but luscious rasher, but a brace of chill forbidding sardines,

lying grim and headless in bilious green oil!

It was a fish he positively loathed, nor could it be reasonably expected

that the confidence necessary for a declaration was to be forgotten by

so sepulchral a form of nutriment.

He roused himself, however, to swallow them, together with some of the

thin and tin-flavoured coffee. But the meal as a whole was so different

from the plentiful well-cooked breakfasts he had sat down before for

years as a matter of course, that it made him feel extremely unwell.

No talking was allowed during the meal. The Doctor now and then looked

up from his dish of kidneys on toast (at which envious glances were

occasionally cast) to address a casual remark to his wife across the

long row of plates and cups, but, as a rule, the dull champing sound of

boys solemnly and steadily munching was all that broke the silence.

Towards the end, when the plates had been generally cleared, and the

boys sat staring with the stolidity of repletion at one another across

the tables, the junior house-master, Mr. Tinkler, made his appearance.

He had lately left a small and little-known college at Cambridge, where

he had contrived, contrary to expectation, to evade the uncoveted wooden

spoon by just two places, which enabled the Doctor to announce himself

as being "assisted by a graduate of the University of Cambridge who has

taken honours in the Mathematical Tripos."

For the rest, he was a small insignificant-looking person, who evidently

disliked the notice his late appearance drew upon himself.

"Mr. Tinkler," said the Doctor in his most awful voice, "if it were my

custom to rebuke my assistants before the school (which it is not), I

should feel forced to remind you that this tardiness in rising is a bad

beginning of the day's work, and sets a bad example to those under your

authority."

Mr. Tinkler made no articulate reply, but sat down with a crushed

expression, and set himself to devour bread and butter with an energy

which he hoped would divert attention from his blushes; and almost

immediately the Doctor looked at his watch and said, "Now, boys, you

have half-an-hour for 'chevy'--make the most of it. When you come in I

shall have something to say to you all. Don't rise, Mr. Tinkler, unless

you have quite finished."

Mr. Tinkler preferred leaving his breakfast to continuing it under the

trying ordeal of his principal's inspection. So, hastily murmuring that

he had "made an excellent breakfast"--which he had not--he followed the

others, who clattered upstairs to put on their boots and go out into the

playground.

It was noticeable that they did so without much of the enthusiasm which

might be looked for from boys dismissed to their sports. But the fact

was that this particular sport, "chevy," commonly known as "prisoners'

base," was by no means a popular amusement, being of a somewhat

monotonous nature, and calling for no special skill on the part of the

performers. Besides this, moreover, it had the additional disadvantage

(which would have been fatal to a far more fascinating diversion) of

being in a great measure compulsory.

Football and cricket were of course reserved for half-holidays, and

played in a neighbouring field rented by the Doctor, and in the

playground he restricted them to "chevy," which he considered, rightly

enough, both gave them abundant exercise and kept them out of mischief.

Accordingly, if any adventurous spirit started a rival game, it was

usually abandoned sooner or later in deference to suggestions from

headquarters which were not intended to be disregarded.

This, though undoubtedly well meant, did not serve to stimulate their

affection for the game, an excellent one in moderation, but one which,

if played "by special desire" two or three hours a day for weeks in

succession is apt to lose its freshness and pall upon the youthful mind.

It was a bright morning. There had been a hard frost during the night,

and the ground was hard, sparkling with rime and ringing to the foot.

The air was keen and invigorating, and the bare black branches of the

trees were outlined clear and sharp against the pale pure blue of the

morning sky.

Just the weather for a long day's skating over the dark green glassy

ice, or a bracing tramp on country roads into cheery red-roofed market

towns. But now it had lost all power to charm. It was almost depressing

by the contrast between the boundless liberty suggested, and the dull

reality of a round of uninteresting work which was all it heralded.

So they lounged listlessly about, gravitating finally towards the end of

the playground, where a deep furrow marked the line of the base. There

was no attempt to play. They stood gossiping in knots, grumbling and

stamping their feet to keep warm. By-and-by the day-boarders began to

drop in one by one, several of them, from a want of tact in adapting

themselves to the general tone, earning decided unpopularity at once by

a cheerful briskness and an undisguised satisfaction at having something

definite to do once more.

If Mr. Tinkler, who had joined one of the groups, had not particularly

distinguished himself at breakfast, he made ample amends now, and by the

grandeur and manliness of his conversation succeeded in producing a

decided impression upon some of the smaller boys.

"The bore of a place like this, you know," he was saying with

magnificent disdain, "is that a fellow can't have his pipe of a morning.

I've been used to it, and so, of course, I miss it. If I chose to insist

on it Grimstone couldn't say anything; but with a lot of young fellows

like you, you see, it wouldn't look well!"

It could hardly have looked worse than little Mr. Tinkler himself would

have done, if he had ventured upon more than the mildest of cigarettes,

for he was a poor but pertinacious smoker, and his love for the weed was

chastened by wholesome fear. There, however, he was in no danger of

betraying this, and indeed it would have been injudicious to admit it.

"Talking of smoking," he went on, with a soft chuckle, as at

recollections of unspeakable devilry, "did I ever tell you chaps of a

tremendous scrape I very nearly got into up at the 'Varsity? Well, you

must know there's a foolish rule there against smoking in the streets.

Not that that made any difference to some of us! Well, one night about

nine, I was strolling down Petty Cury with two other men, smoking

(Bosher of "Pothouse," and Peebles of "Cats," both pretty well known up

there for general rowdiness, you know--great pals of mine!) and, just as

we turned the corner, who should we see coming straight down on us but a

Proctor with his bull-dogs (not dogs, you know, but the strongest 'gyps'

in college). Bosher said, 'Let's cut it!' and he and Peebles bolted.

(They were neither of them funks, of course, but they lost their heads.)

I went calmly on, smoking my cigar as if nothing was the matter. That

put the Proctor in a bait, I can tell you! He came fuming up to me.

'What do you mean, sir,' says he, quite pale with anger (he was a great

bull-headed fellow, one of the strongest dons of his year, that's why

they made him a Proctor)--'what do you mean by breaking the University

Statutes in this way?' 'It _is_ a fine evening,' said I (I was

determined to keep cool). 'Do you mean to insult me?' said he. 'No, old

boy,' said I, 'I don't; have a cigar?' He couldn't stand that, so he

called up his bull-dogs. 'I give him in charge!' he screamed out. 'I'll

have him sent down!' 'I'll send you down first,' said I, and I just gave

him a push--I never meant to hurt the fellow--and over he went. I rolled

over a bull-dog to keep him company, and, as the other fellow didn't

want any more and stood aside to let me pass, I finished my stroll and

my cigar."

"Was the Proctor hurt, sir?" inquired a small boy with great respect.

"More frightened than hurt, I always said," said Mr. Tinkler lightly,

"but somehow he never would proctorise any more--it spoilt his nerve. He

was a good deal chaffed about it, but of course no one ever knew I'd had

anything to do with it!"

With such tales of Homeric exploit did Mr. Tinkler inculcate a spirit of

discipline and respect for authority. But although he had indeed once

encountered a Proctor, and at night, he did himself great injustice by

this version of the proceedings, which were, as a matter of fact, of a

most peaceable and law-abiding character, and though followed by a

pecuniary transaction the next day in which six-and-eightpence changed

pockets, the Proctors continued their duties much as before, while Mr.

Tinkler's feelings towards them, which had ever been reverential in the

extreme, were, if anything, intensified by the experience.

Upon this incident, however, he had gradually embroidered the above

exciting episode, until he grew to believe at intervals that he really

had been a devil of a fellow in his time, which, to do him justice, was

far from the case.

He might have gone on still further to calumniate himself, and excite

general envy and admiration thereby, if at that moment Dr. Grimstone had

not happened to appear at the head of the cast-iron staircase that led

down into the playground; whereupon Mr. Tinkler affected to be intensely

interested in the game, which, as a kind of involuntary compliment to

the principal, about this time was galvanised into a sort of vigour.

But the Doctor, after frowning gloomily down upon them for a minute or

so, suddenly called "All in!"

He had several ways of saying this. Sometimes he would do so in a

half-regretful tone, as one himself obeying the call of duty; sometimes

he would appear for some minutes, a benignant spectator, upon the

balcony, and summon them to work at length with a lenient pity--for he

was by no means a hard-hearted man; but at other times he would step

sharply and suddenly out and shout the word of command with a grim and

ominous expression. On these last occasions the school generally

prepared itself for a rather formidable quarter of an hour.

This was the case now and, as a further portent, Mr. Blinkhorn was

observed to come down and, after a few words with Mr. Tinkler, withdrew

with him through the school gate.

"He's sent them out for a walk," said Siggers, who was skilled in omens.

"It's a row!"

Rows at Crichton House, although periodical, and therefore things to be

forearmed against in some degree, were serious matters. Dr. Grimstone

was a quick-tempered man, with a copious flow of words and a taste for

indulging it. He was also strongly prejudiced against many breaches of

discipline which others might have considered trifling, and whenever he

had discovered any such breach he could not rest until by all the means

in his power he had ascertained exactly how many were implicated in the

offence, and to what extent.

His usual method of doing this was to summon the school formally

together and deliver an elaborate harangue, during which he worked

himself by degrees into such a state of indignation that his hearers

were most of them terrified out of their senses, and very often

conscience-stricken offenders would give themselves up as hopelessly

detected and reveal transgressions altogether unsuspected by him--much

as a net brings up fish of all degrees of merit, or as heavy firing will

raise drowned corpses to the surface.

Paul naturally knew nothing of this peculiarity; he had kept himself as

usual apart from the others, and was now trying to compel himself to

brave the terrors of an avowal at the first opportunity. He followed the

others up the steps with an uneasy wonder whether, after all, he would

not find himself ignominiously set down to learn lessons.

The boys filed into the schoolroom in solemn silence, and took their

seats at the desks and along the brown tables. The Doctor was there

before them, standing up with one elbow resting upon a reading-stand,

and with a suggestion of coming thunder in his look and attitude that,

combined with the oppressive silence, made some of the boys feel

positively ill.

Presently he began. He said that, since they had come together again, he

had made a discovery concerning one among them which, astounding as it

was to him, and painful as he felt it to be compelled to make it known,

concerned them all to be aware of.

Mr. Bultitude could scarcely believe his ears. His secret was

discovered, then; the injury done him by Dick about to be repaired, and

open restitution and apology offered him! It was not perhaps precisely

delicate on the Doctor's part to make so public an affair of it, but so

long as it ended well, he could afford to overlook that.

So he settled himself comfortably on a form with his back against a

desk and his legs crossed, his expression indicating plainly that he

knew what was coming and, on the whole, approved of it.

"Ever since I have devoted myself to the cause of tuition," continued

the Doctor, "I have made it my object to provide boys under my roof with

fare so abundant and so palatable that they should have no excuse for

obtaining extraneous luxuries. I have presided myself at their meals, I

have superintended their very sports with a fatherly eye----"

Here he paused, and fixed one or two of those nearest him with the

fatherly eye in such a manner that they writhed with confusion.

"He's wandering from the point," thought Paul, a little puzzled.

"I have done all this on one understanding--that the robustness of your

constitutions, acquired by the plain, simple, but abundant regimen of my

table, shall not be tampered with by the indulgence in any of the

pampering products of confectionery. They are absolutely and

unconditionally prohibited--as every boy who hears me now knows

perfectly well!

"And yet" (here he began gradually to relax his self-restraint and lash

himself into a frenzy of indignation), "what do I find? There are some

natures so essentially base, so incapable of being affected by kindness,

so dead to honour and generosity, that they will not scruple to conspire

or set themselves individually to escape and baffle the wise precautions

undertaken for their benefit. I will not name the dastards at

present--they themselves can look into their hearts and see their guilt

reflected there----"

At this every boy, beginning to see the tendency of his denunciations,

tried hard to assume an air of conscious innocence and grieved interest,

the majority achieving conspicuous failure.

"I do not like to think," said Dr. Grimstone, "that the evil has a

wider existence than I yet know of. It may be so; nothing will surprise

me now. There may be some before me trembling with the consciousness of

secret guilt. If so, let those boys make the only reparation in their

power, and give themselves up in an honourable and straightforward

manner!"

To this invitation, which indeed resembled that of the duck-destroying

Mrs. Bond, no one made any response. They had grown too wary, and now

preferred to play a waiting game.

"Then let the being--for I will not call him boy--who is known to me,

step forth and confess his fault publicly, and sue for pardon!"

thundered the Doctor, now warmed to his theme.

But the being declined from a feeling of modesty, and a faint hope that

somebody else might, after all, be the person aimed at.

"Then I name him!" stormed Dr. Grimstone; "Cornelius Coggs--stand up!"

Coggs half rose in a limp manner, whimpering feebly, "Me, sir? Oh,

please sir--no, not me, sir!"

"Yes, you, sir, and let your companions regard you with the contempt and

abhorrence you so richly merit!" Here, needless to say, the whole school

glared at poor Coggs with as much virtuous indignation as they could

summon up at such short notice; for contempt is very infectious when

communicated from high quarters.

"So, Coggs," said the Doctor, with a slow and withering scorn, "so you

thought to defy me; to smuggle compressed illness and concentrated

unhealthiness into this school with impunity? You flattered yourself

that after I had once confiscated your contraband poisons, you would

hear no more of it! You deceived yourself, sir! I tell you, once for

all, that I will not allow you to contaminate your innocent schoolmates

with your gifts of surreptitious sweetmeats; they shall not be perverted

with your pernicious peppermints, sir; you shall not deprave them by

jujubes, or enervate them with Turkish Delight! I will not expose

myself or them to the inroads of disease invited here by a hypocritical

inmate of my walls. The traitor shall have his reward!"

All of which simply meant that the Doctor, having once had a small boy

taken seriously ill from the effects of overeating himself, was

naturally anxious to avoid such an inconvenience for the future. "Thanks

to the fearless honesty of a youth," continued the Doctor, "who, in an

eccentric manner, certainly, but with, I do not doubt, the best of

motives, opened my eyes to the fell evil, I am enabled to cope with it

at its birth. Richard Bultitude, I take this occasion of publicly

thanking and commending you; your conduct was noble!"

Mr. Bultitude was too angry and disappointed to speak. He had thought

his path was going to be made smooth, and now all this ridiculous fuss

was being made about a few peppermint lozenges. He wished he had never

mentioned them. It was not the last time he breathed that wish. "As for

you, Coggs," said the Doctor, suddenly producing a lithe brown cane, "I

shall make a public example of you."

Coggs stared idiotically and protested, but after a short and painful

scene, was sent off up to his bedroom, yelping like a kicked puppy.

"One word more," said the Doctor, now almost calm again. "I know that

you all think with me in your horror of the treachery I have just

exposed. I know that you would scorn to participate in it." (A thrill

and murmur, expressive of intense horror and scorn, went round the

benches.) "You are anxious to prove that you do so beyond a doubt."

(Again a murmur of assent.) "I give you all that opportunity. I have

implicit trust and confidence in you--let every boarder go down into the

box-room and fetch up his playbox, just as it is, and open it here

before me."

There was a general fall of jaws at this very unexpected conclusion; but

contriving to overcome their dismay, they went outside and down through

the playground into the box-room, Paul amongst the rest, and amidst

universal confusion, everyone opened his box, and, with a consideration

especially laudable in heedless boyhood, thoughtfully and carefully

removed from it all such dainties as might be calculated to shock or

pain their preceptor.

Mr. Bultitude found a key which was labelled "playbox," and began to

open a box which bore Dick's initials cut upon the lid; without any

apprehensions, however, for he had given too strict orders to his

daughter, to fear that any luxuries would be concealed there.

But no sooner had he raised the lid than he staggered back with disgust.

It was crammed with cakes, butterscotch, hardbake, pots of jam, and even

a bottle of ginger wine--enough to compromise a chameleon!

He set himself to pitch them all out as soon as possible with feverish

haste, but Tipping was too quick for him. "Hallo!" he cried: "oh, I say,

you fellows, come here! Just look at this! Here's this impudent young

beggar, who sneaked of poor old Coggs for sucking jujubes, and very

nearly got us all into a jolly good row, with his own box full all the

time; butterscotch, if you please, and jam, and ginger wine! You'll just

put 'em all back again, will you, you young humbug!"

"Do you use those words to me, sir?" said Paul angrily, for he did not

like to be called a humbug.

"Yes, sir, please, sir," jeered Tipping; "I did venture to take such a

liberty, sir."

"Then it was like your infernal impudence," growled Paul. "You be kind

enough to leave my affairs alone. Upon my word, what boys are coming to

nowadays!"

"Are you going to put that tuck back?" said Tipping impatiently.

"No, sir, I'm not. Don't interfere with what you're not expected to

understand!"

"Well, if you won't," said Tipping easily, "I suppose we must.

Biddlecomb, kindly knock him down, and sit on his head while I fill his

playbox for him."

This was neatly and quickly done. Biddlecomb tripped Mr. Bultitude up,

and sat firmly on him, while Tipping carefully replaced the good things

in Dick's box, after which he locked it, and courteously returned the

key. "As the box is heavy," he said, with a wicked wink, "I'll carry it

up for you myself," which he did, Paul following, more dead than alive,

and too shaken even to expostulate.

"Bultitude's box was rather too heavy for him, sir," he explained as he

came in; and Dr. Grimstone, who had quite recovered his equanimity,

smiled indulgently, and remarked that he "liked to see the strong

assisting the weak."

All the boxes had by this time been brought up, and were ranged upon the

tables, while the Doctor went round, making an almost formal inspection,

like a Custom House officer searching compatriots, and becoming milder

and milder as box after box opened to reveal a fair and innocent

interior.

Paul's turn was coming very near, and his heart seemed to shrivel like a

burst bladder. He fumbled with his key, and tried hard to lose it. It

was terrible to have oneself to apply the match which is to blow one to

the winds. If--if--the idea was almost too horrible--but if he, a

blameless and respectable city merchant, were actually to find himself

served like the miserable Coggs!

At last the Doctor actually stood by him. "Well, my boy," he said, not

unkindly, "I'm not afraid of anything wrong here, at any rate."

Mr. Bultitude, who had the best reasons for not sharing his confidence,

made some inarticulate sounds, and pretended to have a difficulty in

turning the key.

"Eh? Come, open the box," said the Doctor with an altered manner. "What

are you fumbling at it for in this--this highly suspicious manner? I'll

open it myself."

He took the key and opened the lid, when the cakes and wine stood

revealed in all their damning profusion. The Doctor stepped back

dramatically. "Hardbake!" he gasped; "wine, pots of strawberry jam! Oh,

Bultitude, this is a revelation indeed! So I have nourished one more

viper in my bosom, have I? A crawling reptile which curries favour by

denouncing the very crime it conceals in its playbox! Bultitude, I was

not prepared for such duplicity as this!"

"I--I swear I never put them in!" protested the unhappy Paul. "I--I

never touch such things: they would bring on my gout in half-an-hour.

It's ridiculous to punish me. I never knew they were there!"

"Then why were you so anxious to avoid opening the box?" rejoined the

Doctor. "No, sir, you're too ingenious; your guilt is clear. Go to your

dormitory, and wait there till I come to you!"

Paul went upstairs, feeling utterly abandoned and helpless. Though a

word as to his real character might have saved him, he could not have

said it, and, worse still, knew now that he could not.

"I shall be caned," he told himself, and the thought nearly drove him

mad. "I know I shall be caned! What on earth shall I do?"

He opened the door of his bedroom. Coggs was rocking and moaning on his

bed in one corner of the room, but looked up with red furious eyes as

Paul came in.

"What do you want up here?" he said savagely. "Go away, can't you!"

"I wish I _could_ go away," said Paul dolefully; "but I'm--hum--I'm sent

up here too," he explained, with some natural embarrassment.

"What!" cried Coggs, slipping off his bed and staring wildly: "you don't

mean to say you're going to catch it too?"

"I've--ah--every reason to fear," said Mr. Bultitude stiffly, "that I am

indeed going to 'catch it,' as you call it."

"Hooray!" shouted Coggs hysterically: "I don't care now. And I'll have

some revenge on my own account as well. I don't mind an extra licking,

and you're in for one as it is. Will you stand up to me or not?"

"I don't understand you," said Paul. "Don't come so near. Keep off, you

young demon, will you!" he cried presently, as Coggs, exasperated by all

his wrongs, was rushing at him with an evidently hostile intent. "There,

don't be annoyed, my good boy," he pleaded, catching up a chair as a

bulwark. "It was a misunderstanding. I wish you no harm. There, my dear

young friend! Don't!"

The "dear young friend" was grappling with him and attempting to wrest

the chair away by brute force. "When I get at you," he said, his hot

breath hissing through the chair rungs, "I'll jolly well teach you to

sneak of me!"

"Murder!" Paul gasped, feeling his hold on the chair relaxing. "Unless

help comes this young fiend will have my blood!"

They were revolving slowly round the chair, watching each other's eyes

like gladiators, when Paul noticed a sudden blankness and fixity in his

antagonist's expression, and, looking round, saw Dr. Grimstone's awful

form framed in the doorway, and gave himself up for lost.