Boarding schools -- England -- Fiction; Boys -- Fiction
But an eye, wholly unsuspected, was watching the situation. The Head was
perfectly aware that David had lost the match against Eagles (though he
had so nearly won it); he was aware also what manner of impression
David’s father would make on his irreverent school, and when all day he
saw David no longer the centre of groups that were making rather more
noise than was necessary, but either alone, or with Bags, he took
counsel with himself and stroked his grey beard for several minutes.
Then he went across to the museum, where the first form were sitting
under Mr. Dutton, about the time that the Catechism would be finished
and the third missionary journey embarked on. There, having excused Mr.
Dutton, he suddenly addressed David.
“Blaize,” he said, “though it is Sunday, and we are in school, I must
just congratulate you on your bowling performance yesterday. I have
watched a good deal of cricket at Helmsworth for the last twenty years,
and it was by far the finest piece of bowling I can remember. The school
ought to be proud of you. Now, for our work. Antioch! Stone, where is
Antioch?”
There was no getting round this. Stone, Ferrers, David, and Bags walked
arm-in-arm to chapel together. And Mullins’s nose suddenly became the
subject of unkind and universal comment.
CHAPTER V
David returned from the station on Monday morning, where he had been
permitted to go, in order to see his father off, in extremely good
spirits, with his straw hat, trimmed with the school eleven colours,
well back on his head, his hands in his pockets, where one caressed five
distinct shillings, the other the travelling-carriage of the Monarch,
while fragments of cheerful tunes came piercingly forth from the
aperture caused by his broken tooth. The shape of this orifice no doubt
had something to do with the deafening quality of his whistle, which
went through the head of the hearer like the chirping of a canary in a
circumscribed room, and when deeds of infamy, such as illicit feasts,
were going on in the bushes at the far end of the second-club field, he
was often suitably bribed to keep watch at the railings nearest the
school buildings, for his whistle carried that distance quite easily.
There was therefore, when his melodies were heard, time to remove all
traces of debauch before Dubs or any other incarnation of danger could
arrive. So desirable, indeed, was the gift of a really resonant whistle
that Ferrers had at one time begun operations on one of his own front
teeth with the file on his nail-scissors in order to get a similar
configuration, but increasing tenderness had made him desist before he
had got far.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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