Glyn Severn's Schooldays Part 16

"What were you going to say, my dear? But, dear, dear, what a pity it is that you should go and disfigure yourselves like this! What would your poor father say if he knew?"

"Oh, I say, don't talk about it," cried Glyn.--"Fancy, Singhy, if he could see us now!"

Glyn tried to whistle, but his puffed-up lips refused to give forth a sound; and, seeing this, Singh whistled for him, and then in spite of the pain and stiffness of their faces the two boys laughed till the suffering became intense.

"Oh, don't, don't, don't, Singhy!" cried Glyn. "I can't bear it."

"Well, I never did see two such young gentlemen as you are," said the old housekeeper, smiling in turn.

"You ought both to be lying back looking as melancholy as black, and here you are making fun of your troubles. Ah, it's a fine thing, my dears, to be boys and quite young; but I do hope that you will never fight any more, and that you will both soon go and shake hands with Mr Slegge, and tell him you are very sorry you hit him. I am sure that he must feel very sorry that he ever hit you, he being so much bigger and having so long had the advantage of being taught by the Doctor, who is the best man that ever lived, while you two are so new, and you, Mr Singh, so much younger than Mr Slegge that I do wonder he ever so far forgot himself as to hit you. Now, you will make friends afterwards, won't you?"

"No!" cried Singh sharply. "I hate the coward."

"Oh, my dear!" cried the old lady.

"He doesn't mean it, nursey," cried Glyn, getting hold of her hand again. "He only said it because he feels so sore. He's got a sore face and a sore temper; but it will be all right when he gets well."

"I hope so, my dear; and you will shake hands with him, won't you?"

"Yes," said Glyn merrily, "as soon as he holds out his. I can afford to.--Can't I, Singhy?"

"Oh yes, of course."

"There," said the old lady, "now that's spoken nicely, and I don't think I'll bathe your face any more.--Now, my dear," she continued to Singh, "it's your turn."

"Oh, mine doesn't want doing, does it?" said the boy carelessly.

"Yes, my dear, and very badly too. If it isn't bathed with my lotion it will go on swelling, and be more discoloured still."

"Oh!" cried the boy eagerly.--"Here, you, Glyn, get up out of that chair. It's my turn now, as Mrs Hamton says," and he took another glimpse at the gla.s.s. "There, I'm ready. Oh, I say, I do look a wretch!"

Under the care of the good-natured old housekeeper during the next two days a great deal of the swelling went down; but after the old lady's report, and visits from the Doctor himself, they were both still treated as infirmary patients, and relieved from lessons till such time as they should be presentable amongst their fellows.

But on the third day the confinement was growing irksome in the extreme; and the Doctor, after his daily visit, gave Singh permission to come down into the grounds if he liked. But the boy did not like. A glance at his companion in adversity revealed a disappointed look, and as soon as the Doctor was gone he picked up one of the books with which they were well supplied.

"Well," said Glyn gloomily, "why don't you go down?"

"Because I don't want to," was the reply; and no more was said.

But that afternoon soon after dinner, which was brought up to them by the housekeeper on a folding-tray, and just when the irksomeness of their position was pressing hardest upon their brains, there was a quick step on the stairs, a sharp tap at the door, the handle was turned without any waiting for permission, and Wrench's head was thrust in.

"I say, young gents," he cried, "here's a go!"

"What's the matter?" asked Glyn anxiously. "Don't say Slegge's worse."

"I wasn't going to, sir. It's something worse than that."

"What?"

"There's a gentleman along with the Doctor."

"A gentleman!" cried the boys together.

"Yes; a tall, military-looking gentleman, with long white starchers, and such a voice. He seemed as if he wanted to look me through. Fierce as fierce he was when he gave me his card to take in."

"What was on the card?" cried Glyn excitedly.

"Can't you guess, sir?" said the man, grinning.

"Colonel Severn!" shouted Singh.

"My father!" gasped Glyn. "Oh, Singhy! And us with faces like this!"

CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

BEFORE THE "STARCHERS."

Singh ran across to the gla.s.s on the dressing-table.

"Why, Glyn, we can't see him. I'm bad enough, but you are far worse.

What's to be done?"

"I dunno," cried Glyn. "Who in the world would have thought he was coming down here to-day!"

"We are supposed to be in the infirmary, aren't we?" said Singh. "I say, couldn't we undress and go to bed?"

"No," said Glyn promptly. "What difference would that make?"

"Why, he'd think we were too ill to be seen."

"Nonsense," cried Glyn. "Wouldn't he come up and see us all the same?"

"Oh dear!" groaned Singh. "What a mess we are in! This comes of your fighting."

"Well, who made me fight? Who began it?"

"Well, I suppose it was I," said Singh; "but I couldn't stand still and let him knock us both about. Oh dear, what a lot of bother it all is!"

"Here, I say, Wrench," cried Glyn excitedly, "were you sent up to tell us that my father was here?"

"No, sir," said the man, grinning; "but I thought you'd like to know. I must go now, in case my bell rings."

The footman went off hurriedly, and the two boys, after a fresh visit to the looking-gla.s.s, tried to make the best of their appearance.

Glyn combed his hair down in a streak over one side of his bruised forehead, while Singh poured out some cold water and dabbed and sponged his right eye; but he could not wash away the discoloration that surrounded it, and after applying the towel he plumped himself down in a chair and sat staring at his companion.

"It's no use," he said; "I daren't face guardian, and I won't."