Fantasy fiction; Ghost stories; Horror tales; Manners and customs -- Fiction
The days that followed were not so uncomfortable as my first grey
impression of the place had led me to expect. I proved to my own
intense astonishment to be rather good at lessons, so that I got on
well with the masters, and the boys were kind enough in their
careless way. I had plenty of pocket-money, and though I did not
shine at Association football, for in London I had only watched the
big boys playing Rugby, I was not afraid of being knocked about,
which was all that was expected of a new boy. Most of my
embarrassments were due to the sensitiveness that made me dislike
asking questions--a weakness that was always placing me in false
positions. But my efforts to make myself agreeable to the boys were
not unsuccessful, and while I looked in vain for anything like the
romantic adventures of which my brother had spoken, I sometimes found
myself almost enjoying my new life.
And then, as the children say in the streets of London, I woke
up, and discovered that I was desperately home-sick. Partly no
doubt this was due to a natural reaction, but there were other
more obvious causes. For one thing my lavish hospitality had
exhausted my pocket-money in the first three weeks, and I was
ashamed to write home for more so soon. This speedy end to my
apparent wealth certainly made it easier for the boys to find
out that I was not one of themselves, and they began to look at
me askance and leave me out of their conversations. I was made
to feel once more that I had been born under a malignant star
that did not allow me to speak or act as they did. I had not
their common sense, their blunt cheerfulness, their complete
lack of sensibility, and while they resented my queerness they
could not know how anxious I was to be an ordinary boy. When I
saw that they mistrusted me I was too proud to accept the crumbs
of their society like poor mother F----, and I withdrew myself into
a solitude that gave me far too much time in which to examine my
emotions. I found out all the remote corners of the school in
which it was possible to be alone, and when the other boys went
for walks in the fields, I stayed in the churchyard close to the
school, disturbing the sheep in their meditations among the
tomb-stones, and thinking what a long time it would be before I
was old enough to die.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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