Stalky and Co Part 21

"That don't matter so much," said Stalky. "But the house-masters let their houses alone, and they leave everything to the prefects. Why, in one school, a chap told me, there were big baize doors and a pa.s.sage about a mile long between the house and the master's house. They could do just what they pleased."

"Satan rebuking sin with a vengeance."

"Oh, larks are right enough; but you know what we mean, Padre. After a bit it gets worse an' worse. Then there's a big bust-up and a row that gets into the papers, and a lot of chaps are expelled, you know."

"Always the wrong un's; don't forget that. Have a cup of cocoa, Padre?"

said McTurk with the kettle.

"No, thanks; I'm smoking. Always the wrong 'uns? Pro-ceed, my Stalky."

"And then"--Stalky warmed to the work--"everybody says, 'Who'd ha'

thought it? Shockin' boys! Wicked little kids!' It all comes of havin'

married house-masters, _I_ think."

"A Daniel come to judgment."

"But it does," McTurk interrupted. "I've met chaps in the holidays, an'

they've told me the same thing. It looks awfully pretty for one's people to see--a nice separate house with a nice lady in charge, an' all that.

But it isn't. It takes the house-masters off their work, and it gives the prefects a heap too much power, an'--an'--it rots up everything. You see, it isn't as if we were just an ordinary school. We take crammers'

rejections as well as good little boys like Stalky. We've got to do that to make our name, of course, and we get 'em into Sandhurst somehow or other, don't we?"

"True, O Turk. Like a book thou talkest, Turkey."

"And so we want rather different masters, don't you think so, to other places? We aren't like the rest of the schools."

"It leads to all sorts of bullyin', too, a chap told me," said Beetle.

"Well, you _do_ need most of a single man's time, I must say." The Reverend John considered his hosts critically. "But do you never feel that the world--the Common-room--is too much with you sometimes?"

"Not exactly--in summer, anyhow." Stalky's eye roved contentedly to the window. "Our bounds are pretty big, too, and they leave us to ourselves a good deal."

"For example, here am I sitting in your study, very much in your way, eh?"

"Indeed you aren't, Padre. Sit down. Don't go, sir. You know we're glad whenever you come."

There was no doubting the sincerity of the voices. The Reverend John flushed a little with pleasure and refilled his briar.

"And we generally know where the Common-room are," said Beetle triumphantly. "Didn't you come through our lower dormitories last night after ten, sir?"

"I went to smoke a pipe with your house-master. No, I didn't give him any impressions. I took a short cut through your dormitories."

"I sniffed a whiff of 'baccy, this mornin'. Yours is stronger than Mr.

Prout's. _I_ knew," said Beetle, wagging his head.

"Good heavens!" said the Reverend John absently. It was some years before Beetle perceived that this was rather a tribute to innocence than observation. The long, light, blindless dormitories, devoid of inner doors, were crossed at all hours of the night by masters visiting one another; for bachelors sit up later than married folk. Beetle had never dreamed that there might be a purpose in this steady policing.

"Talking about bullying," the Reverend John resumed, "you all caught it pretty hot when you were f.a.gs, didn't you?"

"Well, we must have been rather awful little beasts," said Beetle, looking serenely over the gulf between eleven and sixteen. "My Hat, what bullies they were then--Fairburn, 'Gobby' Maunsell, and all that gang!"

"'Member when 'Gobby' called us the Three Blind Mice, and we had to get up on the lockers and sing while he buzzed ink-pots at us?" said Stalky.

"They _were_ bullies if you like!"

"But there isn't any of it now," said McTurk soothingly.

"That's where you make a mistake. We're all inclined to say that everything is all right as long we aren't ourselves hurt. I sometimes wonder if it is extinct--bullying."

"f.a.gs bully each other horrid; but the upper forms are supposed to be swottin' for exams. They've got something else to think about," said Beetle.

"Why? What do you think?" Stalky was watching the chaplain's face.

"I have my doubts." Then, explosively, "On my word, for three moderately intelligent boys you aren't very observant. I suppose you were too busy making things warm for your house-master to see what lay under your noses when you were in the form-rooms last week?"

"What, sir? I--I swear we didn't see anything," said Beetle.

"Then I'd advise you to look. When a little chap is whimpering in a corner and wears his clothes like rags, and never does any work, and is notoriously the dirtiest little 'corridor-caution' in the Coll., something's wrong somewhere."

"That's Clewer," said McTurk under his breath.

"Yes, Clewer. He comes to me for his French. It's his first term, and he's almost as complete a wreck as you were, Beetle. He's not naturally clever, but he has been hammered till he's nearly an idiot."

"Oh, no. They sham silly to get off more tickings," said Beetle. "_I_ know that."

"I've never actually seen him knocked about," said the Reverend John.

"The genuine article don't do that in public," said Beetle. "Fairburn never touched me when any one was looking on."

"You needn't swagger about it, Beetle," said McTurk. "We all caught it in our time."

"But I got it worse than any one," said Beetle. "If you want an authority on bullyin', Padre, come to me. Corkscrews--brush-drill keys--head-knucklin'--arm-twistin'--rockin'--Ag Ags--and all the rest of it."

"Yes. I do want you as an authority, or rather I want your authority to stop it--all of you."

"What about Abana and Pharpar, Padre--Harrison and Craye? They are Mr. Prout's pets," said McTurk a little bitterly. "We aren't even sub-prefects."

"I've considered that, but on the other hand, since most bullying is mere thoughtlessness--"

"Not one little bit of it, Padre," said McTurk. "Bullies like bullyin'.

They mean it. They think it up in lesson and practise it in the quarters."

"Never mind. If the thing goes up to the prefects it may make another house-row. You've had one already. Don't laugh. Listen to me. I ask you--my own Tenth Legion--to take the thing up quietly. I want little Clewer made to look fairly clean and decent--"

"Blowed if _I_ wash him!" whispered Stalky.

"Decent and self-respecting. As for the other boy, whoever he is, you can use your influence"--a purely secular light flickered in the chaplain's eye--"in any way you please to--to dissuade him. That's all.

I'll leave it to you. Good-night, _mes enfants_."

"Well, what are we goin' to do?" Number Five stared at each other.