Part 15 (1/2)

”Cat be blowed!” cried McTurk. ”It's a dead f.a.g left over from last term. Three cheers for King's dead f.a.g!”

They cheered l.u.s.tily.

”Show it, show it! Let's have a squint at it!” yelled the juniors. ”Give her to the Bug-hunters.” (This was the Natural History Society). ”The cat looked at the King--and died of it! Hoos.h.!.+ Yai! Yaow! Maiow! Ftzz!”

were some of the cries that followed.

Again Richards appeared.

”She've been”--he checked himself suddenly--”dead a long taime.”

The school roared.

”Well, come on out for a walk,” said Stalky in a well-chosen pause.

”It's all very disgustin', and I do hope the Lazar-house won't do it again.”

”Do what?” a King's boy cried furiously.

”Kill a poor innocent cat every time you want to get off was.h.i.+ng. It's awfully hard to distinguish between you as it is. I prefer the cat, I must say. She isn't quite so whiff. What are you goin' to do, Beetle?”

”_Je vais gloater. Je vais gloater tout le blessed afternoon. Jamais j'ai gloate' comme je gloaterai aujourd'hui. Nous bunkerons aux_ bunkers.”

And it seemed good to them so to do.

Down in the bas.e.m.e.nt, where the gas flickers and the boots stand in racks, Richards, amid his blacking-brushes, held forth to Oke of the Common-room, Gumbly of the dining-halls, and fair Lena of the laundry.

”Yiss. Her were in a shockin' staate an' condition. Her nigh made me sick, I tal 'ee. But I rowted un out, and I rowted un out, an' I made all s.h.i.+pshape, though her smelt like to bilges.”

”Her died mousin', I reckon, poor thing,” said Lena.

”Then her moused different to any made cat o' G.o.d's world, Lena. I up with the top-board, an' she were lying on her back, an' I turned un ovver with the brume-handle, an' 'twas her back was all covered with the plaster from 'twixt the lathin'. Yiss, I tal 'ee. An' under her head there lay, like, so's to say, a little pillow o' plaster druv up in front of her by raison of her slidin' along on her back. No cat niver went mousin' on her back, Lena. Some one had shoved her along right underneath, so far as they could shove un. Cats don't make theyselves pillows for to die on. Shoved along, she were, when she was settin' for to be cold, laike.”

”Oh, yeou'm too clever to live, Fatty. Yeou go get wed an' taught some sense,” said Lena, the affianced of Gumbly.

”Larned a little 'fore iver some maidens was born. Sarved in the Queen's Navy, I have, where yeou'm taught to use your eyes. Yeou go 'tend your own business, Lena.”

”Do 'ee mean what you'm been tellin' us?” said Oke.

”Ask me no questions, I'll give 'ee no lies. Bullet-hole clane thru from side to side, an' tu heart-ribs broke like withies. I seed un when I turned un ovver. They're clever, oh, they'm clever, but they'm not too clever for old Richards! 'Twas on the born tip o' my tongue to tell, tu, but... he said us niver washed, he did. Let his dom boys call us 'stinkers,' he did. Sarve un dom well raight, I say!”

Richards spat on a fresh boot and fell to his work, chuckling.

THE IMPRESSIONISTS.

They had dropped into the chaplain's study for a Sat.u.r.day night smoke---all four house-masters--and the three briars and the one cigar reeking in amity proved the Rev. John Gillett's good generals.h.i.+p. Since the discovery of the cat, King had been too ready to see affront where none was meant, and the Reverend John, buffer-state and general confidant, had worked for a week to bring about a good understanding.

He was fat, clean-shaven, except for a big mustache, of an imperturbable good temper, and, those who loved him least said, a guileful Jesuit.

He smiled benignantly upon his handiwork--four sorely tried men talking without very much malice.