The Politeness of Princes, and Other School Stories — John Shaqi
The Politeness of Princes, and Other School StoriesWodehouse, P. G. (Pelham Grenville)
General
The Politeness of Princes, and Other School Stories
Wodehouse, P. G. (Pelham Grenville)
Schools -- Fiction
"One moment," said the headmaster. "Come in."
A small figure appeared in the doorway.
"Please, sir," said the figure in the strained voice of one speaking a
"piece" which he has committed to memory. "Mr. Seymour says please
would you mind letting the doctor come to his house at once because
Linton is ill."
"What!" exclaimed the doctor. "What's the matter with him?"
"Please, sir, I believe it's buckwheat cakes."
"What! And here's another of them!"
A second small figure had appeared in the doorway.
"Sir, please, sir," said the newcomer, "Mr. Bradfield says may the
doctor----"
"And what boy is it _this_ time?"
"Please, sir, it's Brown. He went to Ring's Stores----"
The headmaster rose.
"Perhaps you had better go at once, Oakes," he said. "This is becoming
serious. That place is a positive menace to the community. I shall put
it out of bounds tomorrow morning."
And when Dunstable and Linton, pale but cheerful, made their way--slowly,
as befitted convalescents--to Cook's two days afterwards, they had to sit
on the counter. All the other seats were occupied.
THE GUARDIAN
In his Sunday suit (with ten shillings in specie in the right-hand
trouser pocket) and a brand-new bowler hat, the youngest of the
Shearnes, Thomas Beauchamp Algernon, was being launched by the
combined strength of the family on his public-school career. It was a
solemn moment. The landscape was dotted with relatives--here a small
sister, awed by the occasion into refraining from insult; there an
aunt, vaguely admonitory. "Well, Tom," said Mr. Shearne, "you'll soon
be off now. You're sure to like Eckleton. Remember to cultivate your
bowling. Everyone can bat nowadays. And play forward, not outside. The
outsides get most of the fun, certainly, but then if you're a forward,
you've got eight chances of getting into a team."
"All right, father."
"Oh, and work hard." This by way of an afterthought.
"All right, father."
"And, Tom," said Mrs. Shearne, "you are sure to be comfortable at
school, because I asked Mrs. Davy to write to her sister, Mrs.
Spencer, who has a son at Eckleton, and tell her to tell him to look
after you when you get there. He is in Mr. Dencroft's house, which is
next door to Mr. Blackburn's, so you will be quite close to one
another. Mind you write directly you get there."
"All right, mother."
"And look here, Tom." His eldest brother stepped to the front and
spoke earnestly. "Look here, don't you forget what I've been telling
you?"
"All right."
"You'll be right enough if you don't go sticking on side. Don't forget
that, however much of a blood you may have been at that rotten little
private school of yours, you're not one at Eckleton."
"All right."
"You look clean, which is the great thing. There's nothing much wrong
with you except cheek. You've got enough of that to float a ship. Keep
it under."
"All right. Keep your hair on."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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