Boarding schools -- England -- Fiction; Boys -- Fiction; Schools -- Fiction; Social classes -- England -- Fiction
And, boy as he was, and dimly as may be, he did feel this: that in the
beginning there had been very little to choose between Evan and himself,
but that afterwards the gulf had been at one time very wide. He could
recall with shame a phase in which Master Evan had been forbidden, and
not without reason, to have anything to do with Jan Rutter. There was
even a cruel thrashing which he had received for language learnt from
the executioner’s own lips; and it was characteristic of Jan that he had
never quite forgiven his father for that, though he was dead, and had
been a kind father on the whole. Later, the boy about the stables had
acquired more sense; the eccentric vicar had taken him in hand, and
spoken up for him; and nothing was said if he bowled to Master Evan
after his tea, or played a makeshift kind of racquets with him in the
stable-yard, so long as he kept his tongue and his harness clean. So the
gulf had narrowed again of late years; but it had never again been
shallow.
It was spanned, however, by quite a network of mutual offices. In the
beginning Evan used to take all his broken toys to Jan, who was a fine
hand at rigging ships and soldering headless horsemen. Jan’s reward was
the reversion of anything broken beyond repair, or otherwise without
further value to its original owner. Jan was also an adept at roasting
chestnuts and potatoes on the potting-shed fire, a daring manipulator of
molten lead, a comic artist with a piece of putty, and the pioneer of
smoking in the loft. Those were the days when Evan was suddenly
forbidden the back premises, and Jan set definitely to work in the
stables when he was not at the village school. Years elapsed before the
cricket stage that drew the children together again as biggish boys; in
the interim Jan had imbibed wisdom of more kinds than one. On
discovering himself to be a rude natural left-hand bowler, who could
spoil the afternoon at any moment by the premature dismissal of his
opponent, he was sagacious enough to lose the art at times in the most
sudden and mysterious manner, and only to recover it by fits and starts
when Evan had made all the runs he wanted. And as Jan had but little
idea of batting, there was seldom any bad blood over the game. But in
all their relations Jan took care of that, for he had developed a real
devotion to Evan, who could be perfectly delightful to one companion at
a time, when everything was going well.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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