CHAPTER III
THE REGENERATION OF BIFFEN'S HOUSE
To say that Acton was upset by our visit and our conversation and Bourne'sultimatum would be beside the mark; he was furious, and when he had cooleddown somewhat, his anger settled into a long, steady stretch of hatetowards us both, but especially towards Bourne. He simmered over manyplans for getting "even" with him, and when he had finally mapped out acourse he proceeded, as some one says, "diligently to ensue it;" for Actonwas not of that kind to be "awkward" as occasion arose, but there wasmethod in all his schemes.
It so happened that Worcester was captain of Biffen's house, and also ofBiffen's "footer" team. My own opinion was that poor old Worcester wouldhave given a lot to be out of such a house as Biffen's, and I know heutterly despised himself for having in a moment of inexplicable weaknessconsented to be permanent lead to Biffen's awful crowd on the Acres. Hedied a thousand deaths after each (usual) annihilation. Worcester andActon had nothing in common, and, except that they were in the same houseand form, they would not probably have come to nodding terms. Worcester,of course, looked up to the magnificent "footer" player as the averageplayer looks up to the superlative. After the first game of the season,when Acton had turned out in all his glory, Dick had thereupon offered toresign his captaincy, even pressing, with perhaps suspicious eagerness,Acton's acceptance of that barren honour. But Acton did not bite. Captainswere supposed to turn out pretty well every day with their strings, andActon was not the sort of fellow to have his hands tied in any way. So hehad gently declined.
"No, old man. Wouldn't dream of ousting you. You'll get a good team out ofBiffen's yet. Plenty of raw material."
"That's just it," said Worcester, naively; "it is so jolly raw."
"Well, cook it, old man."
"It only makes hash," said Worcester, with a forlorn smile at his ownjoke.
But now Acton thought that the captaincy of Biffen's might dovetail intohis schemes for the upsetting of Bourne, and therefore Dick's proposal wasto be reconsidered. Thus it was that Worcester got a note from Actonasking him to breakfast.
Worcester came, and his eyes visibly brightened when he spotted Acton'stable, for there was more than a little style about Acton's catering, andWorcester had a weakness for the square meal. Acton's fag, Grim, was busywith the kettle, and there was as reinforcement in Dick's special honour,young Poulett, St. Amory's champion egg-poacher, sustaining his bigreputation in a large saucepan. Worcester sank into his chair with a sighof satisfaction at sight of little Poulett; he was to be in clover,evidently.
"That's right, Worcester. That _is_ the easiest chair. Got that lastegg on the toast, Poulett? You're a treasure, and so I'll write yourmamma. Tea or coffee, Dick? Coffee for Worcester, Grim, tea for me. Passthat cream to Worcester, and you've forgotten the knife for the pie.You're a credit to Sharpe's, Poulett; but remember that you've beenpoaching for Biffen's footer captain. That's something, anyhow. Don'tgrin, Poulett; it's bad form. Going? To Bourne's, eh? I can recommend you,though it would be no recommendation to him. You can cut, too, Grim, andclear at 9.30. See the door catches."
Grim scuttled after the renowned egg-poacher, and Worcester and Acton wereleft alone. When Worcester was fed, and had pushed back his chair, Actonbroached the business to which the breakfast was the preliminary.
"Fact is, Worcester, I've been thinking how it is that Biffen's is theslackest house in the place."
"Oh! it's got such a plucky reputation, you know. The kids weep whenthey're put down for Biffen's. Give a dog a bad name--"
"But why the bad name?"
"Dunno! Perhaps it's Biffen. I think so, anyhow. At any rate, there's notbeen a fellow from the house in the Lord's eleven or in the footer eleven,and in the schools Biffen's crowd always close the rear. By the way, howdid you come among our rout?"
"I think mater knew Biffen; that's the explanation."
"Rather rough on you."
"Don't feel anything, really, Worcester."
"Well, Biffen has got a diabolical knack of picking up all the loose endsof the school; all the impossible fellows gravitate here: why, look at ourDervishes!" (Dervish was the slang for foreigners at St. Amory's.)
"We've certainly got more than our share of colour."
"That's Biffen's all the world over," said Dick, with intense heat; "youcould match any colour between an interesting orange and a real jet blackamong our collection. Biffen simply can't resist a nigger. He must havehim. What they come to the place at all for licks me. Can't themissionaries teach 'em to spell?"
"_La haute politique_," suggested Acton.
"Of Sarawack or Timbuctoo?" said Worcester, with scorn. "Bet my boots thatBorneo one's governor went head-hunting in his time, and the darkestAfrican one's knows what roasted man is."
Acton laughed, for a nigger was to Worcester as a red rag to a bull. "St.Amory's for niggers!" Dick would say with intense scorn.
"Anyhow," said Acton, "I think there's no need for us to be quite soslack."
"You'll pull us up a bit?" said Dick, with genuine admiration.
"Thanks. But I meant the whole house generally."
"Not much good. We're Biffen's, that never did nor never shall, etc."
"I don't know. There's sixty of us, barring your niggers; we ought to geteleven to look at a football with a business eye out of that lot, youknow."
"We ought to, but don't."
"We ought to do something in the schools too."
"We ought to, but don't, though Raven is in for the Perry Exhibition.Guess he won't pull it off, though."
"We'll see about that, too," said Acton. "As for the niggers--"
"Oh, never mind them!" burst in Worcester. "Without humbug, Acton, do youreally want our house to move a bit?"
"Rather!"
"Well, then, consent to captain our footer eleven and we give ourselves achance, for I can't make the fellows raise a gallop at any price, and Isomehow think you can. Have a try. If you are sick of it at Christmas,I'll come in again; honour bright. It isn't too good-natured of me to askyou to pull Biffen's out of the mud, but you're the only fellow to do itif it can be done. Will you?"
"You wouldn't mind resigning?"
"By Jove, no!" said Worcester, precipitately.
"Don't mention it. Not at all, old man, not at all."
"Well, I've been thinking that, if you didn't mind, I'd like to try myhand on our crowd; though, since you don't move 'em, there can't be muchchance for me to do anything smart."
"That doesn't follow, for you aren't me, old man."
"Then I'll have a shot at it."
Worcester grasped Acton's hand, as the French say, "with emotion."
"But the house will have to elect me, you know; perhaps they'd fancy Ravenas captain. He can play decently, and they know him."
"Well, Biffen's are a dense lot, but I'm hanged if even their stupiditywould do a thing like that. They've seen you play, haven't they?"
"Thanks. Fact is, Dick, I feel a bit bored by the patronage of Taylor'sand Merishall's, and Sharpe's and Corker's, and all the rest of thehouses."
"Oh! Biffen's laid himself out for that, you must see."
"I don't fancy Bourne's sneers and Hodgson's high stilts."
"Haven't noticed either," said Dick.
"H'm!" said Acton, rather nettled by Dick's dry tone. "I have. As for theniggers--"
"The other houses despise us on their account. We're the Dervish Camp tothe rest."
"As for the niggers, they shall do something for Biffen's too," saidActon, rather thoughtfully.
"You mean in the sing-songs? Well, they'll spare the burnt corkcertainly."
"Well, that's an idea too," said Acton, laughing, "but not the one I had.That will keep."
Worcester might have some curiosity to know what Acton's idea was, but hewasn't going to inquire anything about the niggers.
"It's awfully brickish of you, Worcester," said Acton, as Grim was heardtrotting up the corridor "to stand down."
&nbs
p; "Not at all; the sacrifice is on your altar."
"Then _allons_. Here's Grim knocking, and I've to see Corker at 9.40.You'll excuse me."
Grim came in and commenced to clear away, and the two sallied out.