Part 3 (2/2)
_Mr. Pocklington._ Beatrice!
_A rather breathless little Voice._ Present, sir. I wish to take a gla.s.s of milk _and_ a bun [_very emphatic this_] durin' the interval, and I propose, with your permission, to borrow this copy of ”Carrots Just a Little Boy”; and, please, I've got a note from mum--I mean I am the bearer of a letter from my mother asking for you to be so kind as to--to excuse my not havin' done all my home work, 'cos I forgot--
_Mr. Pocklington._ Beatrice!
_The R. B. L. V._ I mean 'cos I _neglected_ [there was no such word as ”forget” in Mr. Pocklington's curriculum] to take the book home. And, please, mum--my mother would have written to you by post last night, only she forg--neglected to do it till it was too late.
And Beatrice, having unburdened herself of a task which has been clouding her small horizon ever since breakfast, sits down with a sigh of intense relief.
On the first morning after their arrival, Mr. Pocklington, having called out the last name and registered the last gla.s.s of milk, drew the attention of the school to Pip and Pipette.
”You have to welcome two fresh companions this morning,” he said. ”I will enter their names on the register, and will then read them aloud to you, in order that you may know how to address your new friends.”
Turning to Pip, Mr. Pocklington asked his name.
”Pip.”
”No, no,” said Mr. Pocklington testily. ”Your first baptismal name, boy!”
Pip, to whom the existence of baptismal names was now revealed for the first time, merely turned extremely red and shook his head.
”We do not countenance childish nicknames here,” said Mr. Pocklington grandly. ”What is your Christian name, boy?”
Pip, to whom Christian and baptismal names were an equal mystery, continued to sit mute, glaring the while in a most disconcerting fas.h.i.+on at poor Miss Arabella, who happened to sit opposite to him.
Mr. Pocklington turned impatiently to Pipette.
”What is your brother's name?”
”Please, it's just Pip,” replied Pipette plaintively, groping for Pip's hand under the desk. ”He hasn't got any other name, I don't fink.”
”Perhaps it is Philip,” suggested pretty Miss Amelia. ”I believe”--with a little blush--”that 'Pip' is occasionally used as an abbreviation for that name. Is your name Philip, little boy?” she asked, leaning forward to Pip, with a glance which he would have valued considerably more if he had been ten years older.
”I don't know,” said Pip.
”I think it must be Philip,” said Miss Amelia, turning to her father.
So Pip was inscribed on the roll as Philip, which, as it happened, _was_ his real name. (By the way, his surname was Wilmot.)
”Now, _your_ first baptismal name, little girl?” said Mr. Pocklington briskly, turning to Pipette.
”Please, it's Pipette,” she replied apprehensively.
Her fears were not ungrounded. The school began to t.i.tter.
”Pipette? My dear, that is a quite impossible name. A pipette is a small gla.s.s instrument employed in practical chemistry. Surely you have some proper baptismal name! Perhaps you can suggest a solution again,” he added, turning to Miss Amelia.
No, Miss Amelia could offer no suggestion. Her forte, it appeared, was gentlemen's names. As a matter of fact, Pipette's name, as ascertained by reference to Father by post that night, was Dorothea, and she had been laughingly christened ”Pipette” by her mother, because her father, when summoned from the laboratory to view his newly born daughter, had arrived holding a pipette in his hand.
So Pip and Pipette, much to their surprise and indignation, found themselves addressed as Philip and Dorothea respectively, and as such joined in the pursuit of knowledge in company with a motley crew of Arthurs, Reginalds, Ermyntrudes, Winifreds, and the like. Surnames were not employed in the school. If two children possessed the same Christian name they were distinguished by the addition of any other sub-t.i.tle they happened to possess. Three unfortunate youths, for instance, were addressed respectively as John Augustus, John William, and John Evelyn.
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