The Willoughby Captains Part 5

"Upon my word," he broke out after a good three minutes' waiting, "that blessed pan must be jolly heavy. There's three of them sticking to it now!"

"Wait a bit, I hear him coming," said Curtis, going to the door. He stepped out into the pa.s.sage, Morgan following him.

Pilbury heard a sudden scuffling outside, and a sound of what did not seem like Welchers' voices. He hurried to the door to ascertain the cause, and as he did so he found himself caught roughly by the arm and slung violently against the opposite wall, while at the same moment Telson, Parson, Bosher, and half a dozen Parrett juniors rushed past him into the empty study, slamming and locking and barricading the door behind them!

It was all so quickly done that the luckless Welchers could hardly believe their own senses. But when they heard the distant voice of Philpot shouting that he was locked up in the chemistry-room, and of Morrison complaining that he couldn't get out of his own study, and of Cusack demanding to be released from the lavatory; and when their combined a.s.sault on the door produced nothing but defiant laughter mingled with the merry frizzing of the herrings before the fire, they knew it was no dream but a hideous fact. They had presence of mind enough to release their incarcerated comrades and attempt another a.s.sault in force on the door. But it came to nothing. In vain they shouted, threatened, entreated, kicked. They only received facetious answers from inside, which aggravated their misery.

"Go it, you fellows," shouted one voice, very like Parson's, only the mouth was so full that it was hard to say for certain. "Jolly good dough-nuts these; have another, Bosher, you've only had four. I say, Cusack, where did you catch these prime herrings? Best I've tasted since I came here. Afraid your slate's a little damaged; awfully sorry, you ought to keep a toasting-fork--ha! ha!" and a chorus of laughter greeted the sally. Cusack groaned and fumed.

"You pack of young cads," he howled through the key-hole. "Come out of there, do you hear? you thieves you. I'll warm you, Parson, when I get hold of you."

"Just what we're doing to the bloaters," cried Telson. There was a pause. Then Pilbury cried in tones of feigned warning, "Here comes the doctor! We'll see what he says."

"Won't do," shouted Parson from within. "Won't wash, my boy. Paddy's down at Sh.e.l.lport. Any more sherbet left, King?"

"I'll go and tell the captain, that's what I'll do," said Pilbury.

"Won't wash again," cried Parson. "There's no captain to tell; I say, we're leaving something for you, aren't we, you fellows? There'll be all the heads of the herrings and the greengage stones-- jolly blow-out for you."

It was no use attempting further parley, and the irate Welchers were compelled to lurk furiously outside the door while the feast proceeded, and console themselves with the prospect of paying the enemy out when it was all over.

But the skill which had accompanied the execution of the raid so far was not likely to omit all precautions possible to make good a retreat.

While most of the party were making all the noise they could, and succeeding with jest and gibe in keeping the attention of those outside, the barricade against the door had been quietly removed, and decks cleared for the sortie.

"Now then, you fellows," cried Parson to his men, in a voice which those outside were intended to hear, "make yourselves comfortable. Here's a stunning lot of peppermint-rock here, pa.s.s it round. Needn't go home for half an hour at least!"

The watchers outside groaned. There was no help at hand; and for one of them to go and seek it was only to increase the odds against them. The only thing was to wait patiently till the enemy did come out. _Then_ it would be their turn. So they leaned up against the door and waited.

The revelry within became more and more boisterous, and the chances of a speedy retreat more and more remote, when all of a sudden there was a sharp click and the door swung back hard on its hinges, precipitating Cusack, Pilbury, and Curtis backwards into the room in among the very feet of the besieged as, in a compact body, they rushed out. Morrison, Philpot, and Morgan did what little they could to oppose them but they were simply run over and swept aside by the wily troop of Parretts, who with shouts of derisive triumph gained the staircase with unbroken ranks, and gave their pursuers the parting gratification of watching them slide down the banisters one by one, and then lounge off arm-in- arm, sated and jubilant, to their own quarters.

CHAPTER FOUR.

THE NEW CAPTAIN'S INTRODUCTION.

Of course a row was made, or attempted to be made, about the daring exploit of the f.a.gs of Parrett's House narrated in the last chapter.

The matter was duly reported to the head monitor of Welch's by the injured parties. But the result only proved how very cunning the offenders had been in choosing this particular time for the execution of their raid.

The head of Welch's reported the matter to Bloomfield, as the head of Parrett's. But Bloomfield, who had plenty to do to punish offences committed in his own House, replied that the head of Welch's had better mention it to the captain of the school. _He_ couldn't do anything.

The head of Welch's pointed out that there was no captain of the school at present. What was he to do?

Bloomfield suggested that he had better "find out," and there the matter ended. Wherever the head Welcher took his complaint he got the same answer; and it became perfectly clear that as long as Willoughby was without a captain, law and order was at a discount.

However, such a state of things was not destined long to last. A notice went round from the doctor to the monitors the next day asking them to a.s.semble directly after chapel the following morning in the library.

Every one knew what this meant; and when later on it was rumoured that Riddell had gone to the doctor's that evening to tea, it became pretty evident in which direction things were going.

"Tea at the doctor's" was always regarded as rather a terrible ordeal by those who occasionally came in for the honour. Some would infinitely have preferred a licking in the library, and others would have felt decidedly more comfortable in the dock of a police-court. Even the oldest boys, whose conduct was exemplary, and whose conscience had as little to make it uneasy in the head master's presence as in the presence of the youngest f.a.g in Willoughby, were always glad when the ceremony was over.

The reason of all this was not in the doctor. Dr Patrick was one of the kindest and pleasantest of men. He could not, perhaps, throw off the Dominie altogether on such occasions, but he always tried hard, and if there had been no one more formidable than "Paddy" to deal with the meal would have been comparatively pleasant and unalarming.

But there was a Mrs Patrick and a Mrs Patrick's sister, and before these awful personages the boldest Willoughbite quailed and trembled.

From the moment the unhappy guest entered the parlour these two (who were always there) fastened their eyes on him and withered him. They spoke ceremoniously in the language in which the grand old ladies used to speak in the old story-books. If he chanced to speak, they sat erect in their chairs listening to him with all their ears, looking at him with all their eyes, freezing him with all their faintest of smiles. No one could sit there under their inspection without feeling that every word and look and gesture was being observed, probably with a view to recording it in a letter home; and the idea of being at one's ease with them in the room was about as preposterous as the idea of sleeping comfortably on a wasp's nest!

And yet, if truth were known, these good females meant well. They had their own ideas of what boys should be (neither having any of their own), and fondly imagined that during these occasional ceremonies in the doctor's parlour they were rendering valuable a.s.sistance in the "dear boy's" education by giving him some idea of the manners and charms of polite society!

It was in such genial company that Riddell, the head cla.s.sic of Willoughby, was invited to bask for a short time on the evening of the day before the appointment of the new captain. He had been there once before when his father and mother had come over to visit him. And even with their presence as a set-off, the evening had been one of the most awful experiences of his life. But now that he was to go all alone to partake of state tea with those two, this shy awkward boy felt about as cheerful as if he had been walking helplessly into a lion's den.

"Well, Riddell," said the doctor, pleasantly, as after long hesitation the guest at last ventured to arrive, "how are you? My dear, this is Riddell, whom I believe you have seen before. Miss Stringer too I think you met."

Riddell coloured deeply and s.h.i.+vered inwardly as he advanced first to one lady then to the other and solemnly shook hands.

"I trust your parents are in good health, Mr Riddell," said Mrs Patrick in her most precise tones.

"Very well indeed, thank you," replied Riddell; "that is," he added, correcting himself suddenly, "my mother is very poorly, thank you."

"I regret to hear you say so," said Mrs Patrick, transfixing the unhappy youth with her eyes. "I trust her indisposition is not of a serious character."

"I hope she will, thank you, ma'am," replied Riddell, who somehow fancied his hostess had said, or had been going to say, she hoped his mother would soon recover.

"Er, I beg your pardon?" said Mrs Patrick, leaning slightly forward and inclining her head a little on one side.

"I mean, I beg your pardon," said Riddell, suddenly perceiving his mistake and losing his head at the same time, "I mean, quite so, thank you."

"You mean," interposed Miss Stringer at this point, in a voice a note deeper than her sister's, "that your mother's indisposition _is_ of a serious character?"

"Oh no, not at all, I'm sure," e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the hapless Riddell.

"I am glad to hear you say so, very," said Miss Stringer.

"Very," said Mrs Patrick.

At this point Riddell had serious thoughts of bolting altogether, and might have done so had not the servant just then created a diversion by bringing in the kettle.

"Sit down, Riddell," said the doctor, "and make yourself at home. What are the prospects for the regatta this year? Is the schoolhouse boat to win?"

"I'm sorry I can't say," replied Riddell. "I believe Parrett's is the favourite."

"Mr Riddell means Mr Parrett's, I presume?" asked Mrs Patrick in her sweetest tones, looking hard at the speaker, and emphasising the "Mr"

"I beg your pardon," he said, "I'm sorry."

"We shall miss Wyndham," said the doctor.

"Yes, thank you," replied Riddell, who at that moment was dodging vaguely in front of Miss Stringer as she stood solemnly waiting to get past him to the tea-table.

It was a relief when tea was at last ready, and when some other occupation was possible than that of looking at and being looked at by these two ladies.

"You're not very fond of athletics, Riddell?" asked the doctor.