Soldiers of the Queen Part 19

"No."

"Well, I have; so it doesn't much matter. Look here! Raymond Fosberton's outside, and wants to see you."

"Oh, tell him to go to Bath!" answered Jack, making another stab at the ink-pot with his pen. "I want to finish this letter."

"No, come along," answered Valentine, laughing. "You must be civil to the fellow; he's been waiting about for nearly a quarter of an hour."

"Do him good," growled the scribe, reluctantly pitching his untidy epistle into a very disorderly desk. "He only comes here to show off.

Just because he's in a lawyer's office, he thinks he's a big pot, and all he does is to write copies like a kid in the Lower School."

According to his own opinion, Raymond Fosberton had blossomed out into the full-blown man. He wore a light check suit of the very latest fas.h.i.+on, a rosebud adorned his b.u.t.ton-hole, and he tapped the toe of his highly-polished, patent-leather boots with the point of a silver-mounted cane.

"Hallo!" he exclaimed; "what the d.i.c.kens d'you want to keep a chap waiting so long for? I can tell you my time's more valuable than yours. Look here! I'm sorry I haven't been able to ask you boys to come and see me before, but nearly every night since I've been here I've been engaged. However, I want you to get leave to come and have tea at my rooms on Wednesday, and after that we'll go to the fair. You know what I mean. It's held once a year in a big field on the other side of the town; there are shows, and round-abouts, and all that sort of thing."

"Thanks," answered Valentine, "but I'm afraid we can't go."

"Why not?"

"Because the rule of the school is that no boys are allowed to go to Melchester Fair. Old Westford is awfully strict about it. Two years ago some fellows went, and had a row with one of the showmen, and it got into the papers."

"Oh, rubbis.h.!.+ you can say you're only going out to tea." Valentine shook his head.

"Oh, yes, you can," continued Raymond. "By-the-bye, there's a fellow here called Rosher, isn't there? My guv'nor knows his people, and told me to ask him out sometimes; tell him to come too, if he can."

"We can't do it," answered Valentine decisively; "while the fair's on, Westford won't even give fellows leave to go down into town."

"Nonsense!" answered Raymond contemptuously. "You leave it to me, and I'll manage it all right. Now I must cut back to the office. Ta! ta!"

On Wednesday afternoon the two cousins were preparing to start for the cricket field, when a small boy brought them word that the headmaster wished to see them for a moment in his study.

"What's the row now, I wonder?" said Jack. "'Pon my word, it's so long since I went to the old man's study that I feel quite nervous."

The interview was not of a distressing nature. "I have received a letter from your uncle," began Mr. Westford, "asking for you to be allowed to go and meet him at the station this afternoon at five o'clock. He wishes also to see Rosher, so you can tell him that he may go. Be back, of course, in time for supper."

"I wonder what brings Uncle Fosberton to Melchester," said Valentine to Jack as they walked away together.

"Can't say," returned the other. "I don't want to see him; but I suppose we must go. Let's hunt up Rosher."

A few minutes before five, the three boys entered the booking-office at the railway station.

"I wonder which platform it is!" said Jack. "Hallo! there's Raymond."

The gentleman in question came forward, flouris.h.i.+ng his silver-mounted cane.

"Well, my dear nephews," he cried, laughing. "How are you to-day? Did old Westford get my letter all right?"

"What letter?" asked Valentine.

"Why, the letter asking for you to come out."

"But uncle wrote that!"

"Not a bit of it!" answered Raymond triumphantly. "I did it. I had a bit of the manor note-paper, and I sent it to our man to post it from Grenford. Ha! ha! I told you I'd manage the business!"

Rosher chuckled, Jack whistled, but Valentine remained silent.

"Look here, Raymond," said Valentine, after a moment's pause, "I tell you straight, I don't believe in this sort of thing. I'm going back."

"Don't be a fool, man," retorted the other. "You can't go back now, or they'll want to know the reason. Come along to my diggings and have some tea, and I'll bear all the blame."

With some reluctance Valentine agreed to go with the party to his cousin's lodgings. Raymond did not seem on very good terms with his landlady. The tea was a long time coming; and when at length it did make its appearance, the fare consisted only of bread and b.u.t.ter, and a half-empty pot of jam.

"Sorry I can't offer you anything more," remarked the host, "but just now I've run rather short of cash. Better luck next time."

As soon as the meal was over, Raymond repeated his proposal that they should visit the fair.

"It's an awful joke," he said. "I'm going, and you chaps may as well come along too."

"It's all very well for you to go," answered Jack, "but with us it's different. Any one can see by our hat-bands that we belong to the school; and if it gets to Westford's ears that we've been, we shall stand a jolly good chance of being expelled."

"Oh, well! if you're afraid, don't go," answered Raymond, with a sneer.

"I thought you were a chap who didn't care for anything. Will you go, Rosher?"

"I don't mind."

"Come on, then; don't let's stick here all the evening."

The four boys put on their hats and sauntered out into the street.

Valentine said good-night, and turned off in the direction of the school; but Jack lingered behind with the other two.

"That's right," said Raymond, taking his arm; "I knew you'd come."

The evening was always the gayest part of the day at Melchester Fair.

Crowds of people from the town and surrounding neighbourhood jostled each other in the open s.p.a.ces between the tents and booths, while the noise of bands, steam-organs, and yelling showmen was something terrific.

"I say, have either of you fellows got change for a sovereign?" asked Raymond. "You haven't? well, you pay, and I'll settle up with you some other time."

The boys wandered round the field, listening to the cheap Jacks, and the proprietors of various exhibitions, which were all "just a-goin' to begin." They patronized a shooting-gallery, where they fired down long tubes with little rifles, which made the marksman's hands very black, and seemed to carry round the corner. Jack, however, succeeded in hitting the bull's-eye, and ringing the bell, and was rewarded with a handful of nuts.

"Come on," said Rosher; "let's have a turn on the wooden horses," and the party accordingly moved off in the direction of the nearest round-about. The steeds were three abreast, and Raymond mounted the one on the outside. A little group of factory boys were standing close by, and, just as the engine started, one of them thought fit to enliven the proceedings with a joke.

"Hallo, mister! how much starch d'you put on your weskit?"

"That much!" answered Raymond, snappishly, and leaning outwards in pa.s.sing he dealt the speaker a sharp cut with his cane.

"Yah! Thatches!" cried the boy, and every time the whirligig brought his a.s.sailant into view the shout was repeated.

In the year of grace 1877 some traces still remained of an ancient feud between the school and the boys of the town. The name "Thatches" had been invented by the latter on account of the peculiar pattern of straw hat worn by their adversaries; while the answering taunt always used in those warlike times was, "Hey, Johnny, where's your ap.r.o.n?" a remark which greatly incensed the small sons of toil, who usually wore this garment.