Tom, Dick and Harry Part 49

"I am glad to say, in reference to the matter I met you boys about yesterday, that Tempest has taken a proper sense of his duty, and has undertaken to apologise for his conduct to Mr Jarman. That being so, Tempest, you will please take this opportunity of expressing your regret."

Tempest flushed as he rose in obedience to the doctor's summons. It was evidently, as Redwood had said, "a bitter pill," and had he been a less brave fellow, he could hardly have swallowed it. As it was, even the knowledge that the welfare of the entire house was somehow dependent on his submission was scarcely able to break down his pride.

He advanced to Mr Jarman more like one who comes to administer a thras.h.i.+ng than ask for pardon, and after eyeing him almost fiercely for a moment, summoned his self-control sufficiently to say hoa.r.s.ely,--

"I apologise, sir."

Mr Jarman bit his lips. It was not the triumph he had expected.

Indeed the whole manner of it was such as to hurt instead of soothe his feelings.

"This is hardly an apology," said he to the doctor.

"I trust, Tempest, it means that you regret your action?"

It was an awkward question. Tempest had gone further than any one expected, and his silence now reminded the doctor what the cost had been.

"I think," said he, not waiting for a reply to his own question, "Tempest has fulfilled his pledged--not cordially, I am sorry to say, but sufficiently."

"Very well, sir," said Mr Jarman, "I accept his apology for what it is worth, which seems very little."

"Now, I regret to say," continued the head master, producing a letter which made my heart jump to my mouth, "I have a more serious matter to speak about. I wish heartily what we have just heard had been the end of this painful interview. But it is necessary to refer to something different--a very serious offence against rules. It concerns you, Tempest. Is it a fact that you are in debt to some of the tradesmen?"

Tempest changed colour again and replied,--

"Yes, sir, I am sorry to say I am."

I held on tight to my desk. This was a finis.h.i.+ng touch surely, and I, if any one, felt myself the criminal.

"This letter, addressed to me, but containing a bill for more than two pounds owing by you, part of it since last term, has been left at my house--I presume by the tradesman to whom it is due. Come here and look at it, Tempest."

Tempest obeyed.

"Is it a fact that you are in debt to this extent?"

"Yes, sir--more."

"You are aware--"

Here I could stand it no longer, but sprang to my feet and shouted,--

"Please, sir, it's my fault!"

Everybody turned to me in amazement, as well they might.

"Your fault, Jones iv.?--come forward and explain."

"I mean," said or rather shouted I, speaking while I walked up the room, "it's my fault you got that bill, sir. I don't know how you got it, but it wasn't meant to get to you, really. I must have dropped it. I--I-- was going--to try--to get it paid for him, sir. Really--"

Tempest gave me a glare that knocked all the spirit out of me. What business had I, it seemed to demand, to meddle in his private affairs?

I felt I had done him a real bad turn by my clumsiness, but had not the wit to avoid making bad worse.

"Yes, sir, I told Marple--"

"I purposely refrained from mentioning names, Jones iv.; why can you not do so too?"

"I told him to keep it dark, and got him to give it to me. I--I knew Tempest hadn't enough money to pay it--and--and--"

An exclamation of anger from Tempest cut me short, and I was sent ignominiously back to my place.

"Tempest," said the head master very sternly, "send me in a list of all you owe before you go to bed to-night, and understand that, unless all is paid by Friday when we break up, you will not be allowed to return to Low Heath after the holidays. You must cease in any case to retain the heads.h.i.+p of the house, even for the few days of the term that remain.

You, I understand. Crofter, come next in form order; you will act as head boy in the meantime."

In the midst of my anguish I could see the look of meek resignation on Crofter's face, and that of quiet satisfaction on Mr Jarman's. At Tempest I dared not look, or at my fellow-Philosophers.

What had I done? What was to become of me? How could I get out of it?

These were the three questions which set my poor brain spinning as I wandered off alone to the remotest corner of the quadrangle, and as, later on, I lay miserably awake in my bed.

I had done my friend about as much harm as I possibly could. I may not have meant it. But who cares what a fellow means, so long as he acts like a cad? As to what was to become of me, I had had a taste of that already. The f.a.ggery door had been locked against me, and a missive shoved under the bottom had apprised me of my fate in that quarter.

"To Beast Sarah.

"Take notice that you are kicked out of the Philosophers, and if you dare show your abominable face within a mile of them you'll get it all over with rulers. It has been resolved by Mr Langrish and seconded by Mr Trimble, and pa.s.sed by all the lot, that you be and are hereby kicked whenever any one sees you. Any one not kicking you will be lammed. It is also resolved that the f.a.ggery be fumigated and disinfected during the holidays, and that any chap seen talking to you be refused to be let in till he has been vaccinated. You are about the lowest, meanest, vilest, abominablest, unmitigatedest sneak going.

Three cheers for poor old Tempest, and down with girls' schools and washerwomen!"

This fiery doc.u.ment was formally signed by every Philosopher in the house, together with a particular word of opprobrium addressed to me by each of my former colleagues.

I was not long in realising that I was an outcast in Sharpe's. No one would look at me, still less speak to me. Pridgin ordered me off like a dog. Wales slammed his door in my face. When I appeared in the preparation hall, a long hiss saluted me, even though Mr Sharpe was present. Even outside fellows seemed to have heard of my crime, and looked askance or gave me a wide berth. I can truly say that I found myself the most miserable boy in Low Heath, and only longed for the end of the term to come, that I might shake the dust of the hateful place from my feet, and drop out of the sight of a school full of enemies.

Indeed, as I lay awake that night I had serious thoughts of making off there and then. If I had only had my boots, I think I might have done so; but they were in the blacking-room; and my desperation drew the line at walking off in my bare feet.

I was sitting up in bed, half whimpering with headache and misery, when a light appeared at the end of the dormitory. It was Crofter, in his new capacity of head of the house, taking his rounds before turning in.

The sight of him brought home to me the injury I had done, not only to Tempest, but the whole house. For it was my fault, and mine only, that Crofter was at this moment captain of Sharpe's.

To my surprise and alarm, when he came up to my bed he stopped short, and drawing a letter from his pocket, put it into my hand, saying--

"Put that under your pillow till the morning."

It was more than nature could do to sleep with a mystery like this on the top of my misery. I listened to the clock as it struck the hours through the night, and thought the day would never come. Indeed, the getting-up bell had sounded before the winter sun struggled in through the dormitory window.

Then by the light of a candle I seized the missive from under my pillow and tore it open.

A five-pound note fell out, and with it the following letter.

"You have made a nice mess of it, and ought to be happy. The least you can do is to try to make things right for Tempest. Call round on the following six tradesmen (giving the six names, one of which was Marple) early to-morrow, and pay Tempest's bill at each, and bring home the receipts. You needn't mention who sent you. Send the receipts to me, and if Tempest asks any questions, tell him you paid the money by request of a friend.

"W. Crofter."