Boarding schools -- England -- Fiction; Boys -- Fiction; Schools -- Fiction; Social classes -- England -- Fiction
“More or less is no good. Have you nothing to show by way of a receipt?”
“Sandham may have. I know he stumped up a lot that very Sunday you saw
us.”
“Then what did you think of doing, if you did get out to see him after
dinner?”
“Stave him off till the holidays, I suppose.”
“You didn’t mean to stump up any more?”
“No, I’m hard up, that’s the point.”
“And you’d have stayed him off by promising him a good bit more if he’d
wait?”
“By hook or crook!” cried Evan, desperately. “But unless I can get away
from the match, I’m done.”
Jan put on an air of sombre mystery, lightened only by the crafty
twinkle in his eyes. Chips would have read it as Jan’s first step to the
rescue. But Evan missed the twinkle, and everything else except the
explicit statement:
“You can’t get away, Evan.”
“Then it’s all up with me!”
“Not yet a bit.”
“But the fellow means it!”
“Let him mean it.”
“If I’m not there——”
“Somebody else may take your place.”
“In the field? My dear fellow——”
“No, not in the field, Evan, nor yet at the crease. In Yardley Wood!”
Jan allowed himself a smile at last. And Chips could not have been
quicker than Evan to see his meaning now.
“Who will you get to go, Jan,” he was asking eagerly without more ado.
“You must leave that to me, Evan.”
“One of the Old Boys?”
“If I’m to help you, Evan, you must leave it all to me.”
“Of course you know so many more of them than I do. It’s your third
year....”
Evan was unconsciously accounting for an enviable influence among the
young men with the famous colours. To be sure, Jan was now a Pilgrim
himself; he was already one of them. Jan Rutter! But it was certainly
decent of him, very decent indeed, especially when they had seen so
little of each other all the year. Evan was not unaware that he had
treated Jan rather badly, that Jan was therefore treating him really
very well. It enabled him to overlook the rather triumphant air of
secrecy which it pleased Jan to adopt. After all, it was perhaps better
that he should not know beforehand who was actually going to step into
the breach. The chances were that almost any Old Boy, remembering that
blackguard Mulberry, would be only too glad to give him a fright, if not
to lend the money to pay him off.
But even Evan was not blinded, by these lightening considerations, to
his immediate obligations to Jan.
“I never expected you to help me like this,” he said frankly. “I only
came to ask you about this afternoon. I—I was thinking of shamming
seedy!”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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