Part 14 (1/2)

Acting upon the impulse, as schoolboys usually do, they went galloping out of the cloisters, running against the head-master, who was entering, and nearly overturning his equilibrium. He gave them an angry word of caution; they touched their caps in reply, and somewhat slackened their speed, resuming the gallop when he was out of hearing.

Inclosing the cathedral and its precincts on the western side, was a wall, built of red stone. It was only breast high, standing on the cathedral side; but on the other side it descended several feet, to the broad path which ran along the banks of the river. The boys made for this wall and gained it, their faces hot, and their breath gone.

”Who'll pitch 'em in?” cried Hurst, who did not altogether relish being chief actor himself, for windows looked on to that particular spot from various angles and corners of the Boundaries. ”You shall do it, Galloway!”

”Oh shall I, though!” returned young Galloway, not relis.h.i.+ng it either.

”You precious rebel! Take the keys, and do as I order you!”

Young Galloway was under Hurst. He no more dared to disobey him than he could have disobeyed the head-master. Had Hurst ordered him to jump into the river he must have done it. He took the keys tendered him by Hurst, and was raising them for the pitch, when Bywater laid his hand upon them and struck them down with a sudden movement, clutching them to him.

”You little wretch, you are as deaf as a donkey!” he uttered. ”There's somebody coming up. Turn your head, and look who it is.”

It proved to be Fordham, the dean's servant. He was accidentally pa.s.sing. The boys did not fear him; nevertheless, it was only prudent to remain still, until he had gone by. They stood, all five, leaning upon the wall, soiling their waistcoats and jackets, in apparent contemplation of the view beyond. A pleasant view! The river wound peacefully between its green banks; meadows and cornfields were stretched out beyond; while an opening afforded a glimpse of that lovely chain of hills, and the white houses nestled at their base. A barge, drawn by a horse, was appearing slowly from underneath the city bridge, blue smoke ascending from its chimney. A woman on board was hanging out linen to dry--a s.h.i.+rt, a pair of stockings, and a handkerchief--her husband's change for the coming Sunday. A young girl was sc.r.a.ping potatoes beside her; and a man, probably the husband, sat steering, his pipe in his mouth. The boys fixed their eyes upon the boat.

”I shouldn't mind such a life as that fellow's yonder!” exclaimed young Berkeley, who was fonder of idleness than he was of Latin. ”I'll turn bargeman when other trades fail. It must be rather jolly to sit steering a boat all day, and do nothing but smoke.”

”Fordham's gone, and be hanged to him! Now for it, Galloway!”

”Stop a bit,” said Bywater. ”They must be wrapped up, or else tied close together. Better wrap them up, and then no matter who sees. They can't swear there are keys inside. Who has any paper about him?”

One of the boys, Hall, had his exercise-book with him. They tore a sheet or two out of it, and folded it round the keys, Hurst producing some string. ”I'll fling them in,” said Bywater.

”Make haste, then, or we shall have to wait till the barge has gone by.”

Bywater took a cautious look round, saw n.o.body, and flung the parcel into the middle of the river. ”_Rari nantes in gurgite vasto_!” e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed he.

”Now, you gents, what be you throwing into the river?”

The words came from Hudson, the porter to the Boundaries, who appeared to have sprung up from the ground. In reality, he had been standing on the steps leading to the river, but the boat-house had hidden him from their view. He was a very different man from the cloister porter; was afraid of the college boys, rather than otherwise, and addressed them individually as ”sir.” The keeper of the boat-house heard this, and came up the steps.

”If you gentlemen have been throwing anything into the river you know that it's against the rules.”

”Don't bother!” returned Hurst, to the keeper.

”But you know it is wrong, gentlemen,” remonstrated the keeper. ”What was it you threw in? It made a dreadful splash.”

”Ah! what was it?” coolly answered Hurst. ”What should you say to a dead cat? Hudson, have the goodness to mind your business, unless you would like to get reported for interfering with what does not concern you.”

”There's a quarter to ten!” exclaimed Bywater, as the college clock chimed the three-quarters. ”We shall be marked late, every soul of us!”

They flew away, their feet scarcely touching the ground, clattered up the schoolroom stairs, and took their places. Gaunt was only beginning to call over the roll, and they escaped the ”late” mark.

”It's better to be born lucky than rich,” said saucy Bywater.

CHAPTER XVI.

MUCH TO ALTER.

At the same moment Constance Channing was traversing the Boundaries, on her way to Lady Augusta Yorke's, where she had, some days since, commenced her duties. It took her scarcely two minutes to get there, for the houses were almost within view of each other. Constance would willingly have commenced the daily routine at an earlier hour. Lady Augusta freely confessed that to come earlier would be useless, for she could not get her daughters up. Strictly speaking, Lady Augusta did not personally try to get them up, for she generally lay in bed herself.

”That is one of the habits I must alter in the children,” thought Constance.

She entered, took off her things in the room appropriated to her, and pa.s.sed into the schoolroom. It was empty, though the children ought to have been there, preparing their lessons. f.a.n.n.y came running in, her hair in curl-papers, some bread and b.u.t.ter in her hand.

”Carry has not finished her breakfast, Miss Channing,” quoth she. ”She was lazy this morning!”

”I think some one else was lazy also,” said Constance, gently drawing the child to her. ”Why did you come down half-dressed, my dear?”

”I am quite dressed,” responded f.a.n.n.y. ”My frock's on, and so is my pinafore.”

”And these?” said Constance, touching the curl-papers.

”Oh, Martha got up late, and said she had no time to take them out. It will keep in curl all the better, Miss Channing; and perhaps I am going to the missionary meeting with mamma.”

Constance rang the bell. Martha, who was the only maid kept, except the cook, appeared in answer to it. Lady Augusta was wont to say that she had too much expense with her boys to keep many servants; and the argument was a true one.

”Be so kind as to take the papers out of Miss f.a.n.n.y's hair. And let it be done in future, Martha, before she comes to me.”

Gently as the words were spoken, there was no mistaking that the tone was one of authority, and not to be trifled with. Martha withdrew with the child. And, just then, Caroline came in, full of eagerness.

”Miss Channing, mamma says she shall take one of us to the missionary meeting, whichever you choose to fix upon. Mind you fix upon me! What does that little chit, f.a.n.n.y, want at a missionary meeting? She is too young to go.”

”It is expected to be a very interesting meeting,” observed Constance, making no reply to Miss Caroline's special request. ”A gentleman who has lived for some years amongst the poor heathens is to give a history of his personal experiences. Some of the anecdotes are beautiful.”

”Who told you they were?” asked Caroline.

”Mr. Yorke,” replied Constance, a pretty blush rising to her cheek. ”He knows the lecturer well. You would be pleased to hear them.”

”It is not for that I wish to go,” said Caroline. ”I think meetings, where there's nothing but talking, are the dullest things in the world. If I were to listen, it would send me to sleep.”

”Then why do you wish so much to attend this one?”

”Because I shall wear my new dress. I have not had it on yet. It rained last Sunday, and mamma would not let me put it on for college. I was in such a pa.s.sion.”

Constance wondered where she should begin. There was so much to do; so much to alter in so many ways. To set to work abruptly would never answer. It must be commenced gradually, almost imperceptibly, little by little.

”Caroline, do you know that you have disobeyed me?”

”In what way, Miss Channing?”

”Did I not request you to have that exercise written out?”

”I know,” said Caroline, with some contrition. ”I intended to write it out this morning before you came; but somehow I lay in bed.”

”If I were to come to you every morning at seven o'clock, would you undertake to get up and be ready for me?” asked Constance.