St. Winifred's; or, The World of SchoolFarrar, F. W. (Frederic William)
History
St. Winifred's; or, The World of School
Farrar, F. W. (Frederic William)
Boys -- Juvenile fiction; Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction; Schools -- Juvenile fiction
The permission to go whenever he liked to Mr Percival's room was his
most valued privilege. There he could always secure such immunity from
disturbance as enabled him to learn his lessons in half the time he
would otherwise have been obliged to devote to them; and there too he
could always ask the master's assistance when he came to any insuperable
difficulty, and always enjoy the society of Henderson and the one or two
other boys who were allowed by Mr Percival's kindness to use the same
retreat. From the bottom of his form he rapidly rose to the top, and at
last was actually placed first. A murmur of pleasure ran through the
form on the first Sunday when his name was read out in this honourable
position, and it gave Walter nearly as much satisfaction to hear
Henderson's name read out _sixth_ on the same day; for before Walter
came, Henderson was too volatile ever to care where he stood in form,
and usually spent his time in school in drawing caricatures of the
masters, and writing parodies of the lesson or epigrams on other boys;
up till this time Daubeny had always been first in the form, and he
deserved the place if any boy did. He was not a clever boy, but nothing
could exceed his well-intentioned industry. Like Sir Walter Raleigh he
"toiled terribly." It was an almost pathetic sight to see Dubbs set
about learning his repetitions; it was a noble sight, too. There was a
heroism about it which was all the greater from its being unnoticed and
unrecorded. Poor Dubbs had no privacy except such as the great
schoolroom could afford, and there is not much privacy in a room,
however large, which is the common habitation of fifty boys.
Nevertheless, the undaunted Daubeny would choose out the quietest and
loneliest corner of the room, and with elbows on knees and hands over
his ears to shut out the chaotic noises which surrounded him, would stay
repeating the lines to himself with attention wholly concentrated and
absorbed, until, after perhaps an hour's work, he knew enough of them to
enable him to finish mastering them the next morning. Next morning he
would be up with the earliest dawn, and would again set himself to the
task with grand determination, content if at the end of the week he
gained the distinguished reward of being head in his form, and could
allow himself the keen pleasure of writing home to tell his mother of
his success.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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