Part 12 (2/2)

The schoolboy, as we have said, is an observant animal. Very well, then.

One morning Mr. Bradshaw, as he entered his cla.s.sroom, majestic in cap and gown, closing the door carefully and lovingly behind him, with all the cheerful deliberation of a Chief Tormentor who proposes to spend a merry morning in the torture-chamber, suddenly beheld Linklater stand up in his place and heave a ”Liddell & Scott” (medium size) across the room at an unsuspecting youth in spectacles, who was busily engaged in putting the finis.h.i.+ng touches to a copy of Greek Iambics.

The book, having reached its destination, rebounded in obedience to one of the primary laws of mechanics, and fell with a heavy thud upon the floor. The form, after the first startled flutter, settled down with a happy sigh to witness the rare spectacle of a volcano in full eruption.

Mr. Bradshaw's eye sparkled. a.s.suredly the enemy was delivered into his hand this time. Mounting his rostrum, he stood gazing, almost affectionately, upon the perpetrator of the outrage, mentally pa.s.sing in review all the possibilities of punishment, from expulsion downwards, and busily caressing his countenance the while.

Presently some one in the form t.i.ttered. Then another, and another, and another. Then the whole room broke into a roar. Mr. Bradshaw, in high good-humour, allowed them to continue for some time: he wanted to rub it into Linklater. At last he cleared his throat.

”Your friends may well smile, sir,” he began majestically. (Cheers and laughter.) ”So serene are you in your conceit and self-a.s.surance that you proceed to break rules, to behave like a board-school boy, without even taking the trouble to observe if one in Authority”--he smacked his lips--”be present or no. What is the result? Pride has a fall, my young friend. You make a spectacle of yourself--”

Here the speaker was interrupted by a perfect tornado of merriment. A master can always raise a sn.i.g.g.e.r at the expense of a boy, but such whole-hearted appreciation as this had not fallen to Mr. Bradshaw's lot before.

”--a ludicrous exhibition,” he continued, after the noise had subsided.

Cheers and laughter, as before.

”If you could only see yourself now, my boy, only behold the spectacle you present--”

This time his audience became so hysterical that Braddy was conscious of an uneasy suspicion that something must be wrong. Suddenly his eye fell upon the pad of foolscap before him, upon which he had been emphasising his remarks by vigorous slappings. The paper was covered with numerous impressions of his hand, neatly outlined in some jet-black substance.

After a hasty inspection of the hand itself the awful truth began to dawn upon him, and the now frenzied Lower Sixth were regaled with the spectacle of a man attempting to scrutinise his own countenance by squinting along his nose.

It must have been about this time, according to the best authorities, that the Head came in. That benevolent despot, pa.s.sing the door on his way to his study, had been attracted by the sounds of mirth within; and under the impression that owing to some misunderstanding Mr. Bradshaw was not taking his form that hour, he entered the room to maintain discipline until the errant master could be found. After his usual punctilious knock--he was a head master of the velvet glove type--he opened the door, and stood an interested and astonished spectator of the scene within.

What he saw was this--

On the benches rolled thirty boys, helpless, speechless, tearful with laughter; and upon the rostrum, with a parti-coloured bald head and a coal-black face, there mowed and gibbered a creature, which rolled frenzied eyes and gnashed unnaturally whitened teeth in impotent frenzy upon the convulsed throng before him.

Linklater had covered the door-handle with lampblack, and Mr. Bradshaw's favourite mannerism had done the rest.

II

Linklater's escapade took place at the end of the Christmas term. Early in the following January the Cricket Committee held their customary meeting in the President's study, to elect a Captain and Secretary of the School Eleven for the following summer term.

Usually such functions were of the most formal character. The senior ”old colour” was elected Captain, and the next man Secretary; the Reverend William Mortimer was unanimously re-elected President (with an ungrammatical vote of thanks for past services thrown in); and the proceedings terminated.

But this term matters were not so simple. There were five old colours available: Pip, st.u.r.dy, popular, just eighteen, the best bowler, according to that infallible oracle the ground-man, that the school had known in a generation; Linklater, a beautiful bat and a brilliant field, with the added recommendation of a century against the County last summer; Ellis, a steady bat and a good change bowler, a singularly right-minded and conscientious boy, and therefore slightly unpopular; f.a.gg, a wicket-keeper pure and simple; and Jarvis, a stripling of considerably more promise than performance, who had sc.r.a.ped into the Eleven at the end of the summer term on the strength of a brilliant but fluky innings against the Authentics.

Of these five, Pip, from every conceivable point of view save one, was the obvious and natural man for the post. But the captaincy of the Eleven carried with it a School Monitors.h.i.+p, and the Law, as represented by an inflexible head master's decree, said that no member of the school could wear a Monitor's cap who was not a member of the Sixth. Now, Pip was only a member of the Fifth, and occupied but a sedimentary position in that. Consequently the Committee heaved a resigned if dissatisfied sigh when Uncle Bill, after taking the chair, announced with real regret that Wilmot--this, you may possibly remember, was Pip's name--was not eligible for the post of Captain.

”Lucky thing Link got his remove this term,” whispered f.a.gg to Jarvis, ”or he'd have been barred too.”

”Dry up,” said Jarvis, with a warning nudge; ”Uncle Bill has got something on his chest.”

Uncle Bill indeed appeared to be labouring under some embarra.s.sment, for his good-humoured face was clouded, and he hesitated before continuing his remarks.

”I have another message from the Head,” he said at length. ”I will give it you exactly as I received it, without comment. It is not a pleasant message, but you--we have no choice but to obey orders. It is this. The next in seniority, Linklater, is a member of the Sixth, and therefore eligible for office; but on account of his--of a regrettable incident in connection with Mr. Bradshaw last term, the Head feels unable to make him a Monitor, and consequently he cannot be Captain of the Eleven.”

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