CHAPTER TWELVE.
THE "DOMINICAN" AGAIN.
The circumstances which had attended the publication of the first numberof the _Dominican_ had been such as to throw a damper over the futuresuccess of that valuable paper. It was most uncomfortably connected inthe minds of the Fifth with the cowardice of Oliver Greenfield, and withthe stigma which his conduct had cast upon the whole Form, and they oneand all experienced a great diminution of interest in its future.
The Fifth were far more intent on vindicating their reputation with theSixth--and, indeed, with the rest of the school. They sought everyopportunity of bringing on a collision with the monitors. One or two oftheir number went, so far as to pick quarrels with members of the rivalclass, in hopes of a fight. But in this they were not successful. TheSixth chose to look upon this display of feeling among their juniors asa temporary aberration of mind, and were by no means to be tempted intohostilities. They asserted their authority wherever they could enforceit, and sacrificed it whenever it seemed more discreet to do so. Onlyone thing evoked a temporary display of vexation from them, and that waswhen Ricketts and Braddy appeared one day, arm-in-arm, in the passageswith _tall hats_ on their heads. Now, tall hats on week-days were theexclusive privilege of the Sixth at Saint Dominic's, and, worn by themduring school hours, served as the badge of monitorship. This action onthe part of the Fifth, therefore, was as good as a usurpation ofmonitorial rights, and that the Sixth were not disposed to stand.However, Raleigh, the captain, when appealed to, pooh-poohed the matter."Let them be," said he; "what do you want to make a row about it for?If the boys do mistake them for monitors, so much the less row in thepassages."
Raleigh was always a man of peace--though it was rumoured he could, ifhe chose, thrash any two Dominicans going--and the monitors were muchdisgusted to find that he did not authorise them to interfere with theFifth in the matter. But the Fifth _were_ interfered with in anotherquarter, and in a way which caused them to drop their chimney-potscompletely. One afternoon the entire Fourth Junior appeared in thecorridors in their Sunday tiles! In their Sunday tiles they slid downthe banisters; in their Sunday tiles they played leapfrog; in theirSunday tiles they executed a monster tug-of-war in the bottom corridor!Stephen and Bramble fought their usual battle in top hats, and MasterPaul insisted on wearing the same decoration while washing up Oliver'stea-things. It was a splendid hit, and for once in a way Guinea-pigsand Tadpoles scored one, for the Fifth appeared next day in theirordinary "boilers," and the dignity of the monitors was vindicated.
But the blood was up between Fifth and Sixth, and each Form lookedforward to the match, Sixth _versus_ School, with redoubled interest.
"Were not these boys fools?" some one asks.
To be sure they were, sir. But what of that? they were none the lessboys, and most of them fine young fellows, too, with all their nonsense.
However, as has been said, all this came out of the circumstances whichattended the bringing out of the first number of the _Dominican_, andthere seemed but a poor look-out for Number 2, which was now nearly due,in consequence.
"What on earth am I to do?" asked Pembury of Tom Senior one day; "I'venot got a single contribution yet. There's you making out you're toobusy, and Rick the same. It's all humbug, I know! What are you busy atI'd like to know? I never saw you busy yet."
"Upon my word, old man," said Tom, "I'm awfully sorry, but I've got atremendous lot to do. I'm going to try for the French prize; I am,really."
"And you'll get it, too; rather! Wasn't it you who translated `I knowthe way to write' into `_Je non le chemin a writer_' eh? Oh, stick toFrench by all means, Tom; it's in your line! But you might just as wellwrite for Number 2."
"I really can't this time," said Tom.
Ricketts had an excuse very similar. Bullinger had hurt his foot, hesaid, and could not possibly write; and Braddy had begun to studyfossils, he said, and was bound to devote all his spare time to them.To all of whom Master Pembury gave a piece of his mind.
"Wray, old man," said he, that evening, "you and Noll and I shall haveto do the whole thing between us, that's all about it."
"Awfully sorry!" said Wraysford; "you'll have to let me off this time.I'm working like nails for the Nightingale."
"Bother the Nightingale, I say! What is it to the _Dominican_? Come, Isay, old man, that won't do! you aren't going to leave me in the lurchlike all the rest?"
But Wraysford was; he would gladly have helped if he could, but hereally must not this time; perhaps he would for the next.
Oliver was as bad; he declared the things he had written before--evenwith Pembury's assistance--had taken him such ages to do, that he wasn'tgoing in for the next number. He was very sorry to disappoint, and allthat; but if Tony was in for a scholarship next Michaelmas he wouldunderstand the reason. Why not let the thing drop this month?
This, however, by no means met Tony's views. A pretty figure he wouldcut if it were to be said he couldn't keep up a paper for two numbersrunning! No! his mind was made up. Number 2 _should_ come out, even ifhe wrote every word of it himself! And with that determination hehobbled off to his study. Here he met Simon waiting for him.
"Oh," said the poet; "I only brought this, if you'll put it in. I thinkit's not bad. I could make it longer if you like. I find poetry comesso easily, you know!"
Tony glanced over the paper and grinned. "Thanks, awfully! This willdo capitally; it would spoil it to make it any longer. You're a brick,Simon! I wish _I_ could write poetry."
"Oh, never mind. I could do some more bits about other things, youknow, if you like."
Pembury said he didn't think he should require any more "bits," but wasawfully obliged by this one, which was first-rate, a recommendationwhich sent Simon away happy to his study, there immediately to composethe opening stanza of his famous epic, "The Sole's Allegery--a sacredPoem."
With one contribution in hand, Tony locked his door and sat down towrite. There was something out of the common about Pembury. With thebody of a cripple he had the heart of a lion, and difficulties only madeit more dauntless. Any one else would have thought twice, indeed,before undertaking the task he was now setting himself to do, andninety-nine out of every hundred would have abandoned it before it washalf done. But Tony was indomitable. Every night that week he lockedhis study-door, and threats and kicks and entreaties would not open iteven to his dearest friends. And slowly the huge white sheet before himshowed the signs of his diligence. The great long columns, one afteranother, filled up; paragraph followed paragraph, and article article.He coolly continued the "History of Saint Dominic's" begun last month byBullinger, and the "Reports of the Sixth Form Debates" commenced by TomSenior. And the "Diary of the Sixth Form Mouse" went on just as ifWraysford had never abandoned it; and the poem on the Guinea-pigs,promised in Number 1, by the author of "To a Tadpole," duly appearedalso. Besides this, there were the continuations of Tony's ownarticles, and his "Personal Notes," and "Squeaks from Tadpoleopolis,"and advertisements just as usual; until, in due time, the last columnwas filled up, the sheet triumphantly fixed in its frame, and astriumphantly hung up on its own particular nails on the wall outside theFifth Form door.
It was a feat to be proud of, and Tony was justly and pardonably proud.It was at least a gratification next morning to see not only that theschool generally took unabated interest in the _Dominican_, but that hehad fairly astonished his own class-fellows. Their admiration of theeditor was unbounded and undisguised. Their consciences had all, moreor less, reproached them for backing out of their responsibilities inthe way they had; and now it quite touched them to see how,notwithstanding, Anthony had by his own labour made up for their defect,and sustained the reputation of the Fifth before all the school.
The crush outside the door was greater than ever this time, and MasterPaul, who again acted as policeman, was obliged to summon Stephen to hisassistance in watching to see that no damage came to the preciousdocument.
The accoun
t of the Alphabet Match was very graphic, and written quite inthe usual absurd "sporting style," greatly to the amusement of most ofthose who had taken part in it. Here is a specimen:--
"At 4.30, sharp, the leather was taken into custody by `Gamey' Raikes,at the wash-house end, who tried what his artful `yorkers' could do inthe way of dissolving partnership. But Teddy Loman kept his willowstraight up, and said `Not at home' to every poser, leaving Noll to doall the smacking. This pretty business might have gone on tillto-morrow week had the men's upper stories been as `O.K.' as theirtimbers, but they messed about over a pretty snick of Noll's, and, afterpopping the question three times, Teddy got home just in time to see histwo bails tumble out of their groove. Teddy didn't like this, andbowled his partner a wide compliment, which Noll, like a sensible man,didn't walk out to, and Teddy was astonished to find his party could geton without him;" and so on.
This version of the incident was by no means pleasant to Loman, but toevery one else it was highly diverting, and it actually made one or twoof the Fifth think that Oliver, after all, had not done such a verydiscreditable thing in taking that angry word in silence. If only hehad shown more spirit about the blow, they could have forgiven the rest.
Then followed more from the "Sixth Form Mouse":--
"The Sixth held a Cabinet Council to-day to discuss who should go outfor nuts. The choice fell on Callonby. I wonder why the Sixth are sofond of nuts. Why, monkeys eat nuts. Perhaps that is the reason. Whata popular writer Mr Bohn is with the Sixth! they even read him atlesson time! I was quite sorry when the Doctor had to bone Wren's Bohn.I wonder, by the way, why that bird found it so hard to translate thesimplest sentence without his Bohn! The Doctor really shouldn't--I hopehe will restore to Wren his backbone by giving him back his Bohn. Hum!I heard some one smiling. I'll go."
The Sixth, a good many of them, were imprudent enough to look veryguilty at the reading of this extract, a circumstance which appeared toafford keenest delight to the Fifth. But as Simon's poem followed, theyhad other food for thought at the moment. The poem was entitled--
A Revverie.
I.
I walked me in the garden, all in the garden fair, And mused upon my hindmost sole all in the open air. When lo! I heard above my head a sound all like a wisk, I stepped me aside thereat out of the way so brisk.
[Hindmost sole, possibly "inmost soul"; wisk, possibly "whisk."]
II.
I looked me up, and there behold! and lo! a window broad, And out thereof I did dizzern a gallant fishing-rod, All sporting in the breaze untill the hook in ivy caught, And then the little lad he tried to pull it harder than he ought.
III.
It broke, alas! and so messeems fades life's perplecksing dreems, And vanish like that fishing-rod all in the dark messeems. I wonder if my perplecksing dreems will vanish like the rod in the dark, And I shall rise and rise and rise and rise all like a lark.
IV.
Oh wood I was a lark, a lark all lofty in the sky, I do not know what I should do to quench my blazing eye. I'd look me down on Dominic's, and think of the days when I was young, Or would I was an infant meek all sucking of my thumb.
Again Simon, who had watched with intense interest the reception of hispoem, was perplexed to notice the amusement it had caused. Even Pemburyhad mistaken its "inmost soul," for he had placed it in the columndevoted to "Facetiae." Nor could Simon understand why, for the nextweek, every one he met had his thumb in his mouth. It was very queer--one of life's mysteries--and he had thoughts of embodying the fact inhis "Sole's Allegery," which was now rapidly approaching completion.
After this bubbling up of pure verse there followed a few remarks aboutGuinea-pigs and Tadpoles, which had the effect of highly incensing thoseyoung gentlemen. The paragraph was entitled--
"Market Intelligence.
"Half a dozen mixed Guinea-pigs and Tadpoles were offered for sale byauction on the centre landing yesterday. There was only a smallattendance. The auctioneer said he couldn't honestly recommend the lot,but they must be got rid of at any cost. He had scrubbed their facesand combed their hair for the occasion, but couldn't guarantee thatstate of things to last. But they might turn out to be of use assubstitutes in case worms should become scarce; and, any way, by boilingdown their fingers and collars, many gallons of valuable ink could beobtained. The first bid was a farthing, which seemed to be far beyondthe expectation of the salesman, who at once knocked the lot down. Thesale was such a success that it is proposed to knock down several morelots in a like manner."
The rage of the Fourth Junior on reading this paragraph was somethingawful to witness. Bramble, feeling he must kick somebody on the legs,kicked Stephen, who, forgetting that he was on police duty, seizedBramble by the hair of his head and rushed off with him to the"meeting," closely followed by Paul and the whole swarm. That meetinglasted from three to five. What awful threats were uttered, and whatawful vows taken, no one knew. At five o'clock Stephen's fight withBramble came off as usual, and all that evening Guinea-pigs and Tadpolesdid nothing but make paper darts. It was certain a crisis had come intheir history. The "dogs of war" were let loose! They would berevenged on somebody! So they at once began to be revenged on oneanother, till it should be possible to unite their forces against thecommon foe.
But the remainder of the crowd stayed on to read one more extract fromthe _Dominican_. Under the title of "Reviews of Books," Anthony hadreviewed in style the last number of the _Sixth Form Magazine_ asfollows:--
"This book appears to be the praiseworthy attempt of some ambitiouslittle boys to enter the field of letters. We are always pleased toencourage juvenile talent, but we would suggest that our young friendsmight have done better had they kept to their picture-books a littlelonger before launching out into literature on their own account. Inthe words of the poet we might say--
"Babies, wait a little longer, Till the little wings are stronger, Then you'll fly away."
"Nevertherless, we would refer to one or two of these interestingattempts. Take, for example, the essay on the `Character of JuliusCaesar,' by one who signs himself Raleigh. This is very well written.Pains have been taken about the formation of the letters, and some ofthe capitals are specially worthy of praise. For one so young, werarely saw the capital D so well done. Dr Smith, were he alive, wouldbe pleased to see his remarks on Caesar so well and accurately copiedout. Master Wren gives us some verse--a translation out of Horace. Wewonder if Mr Wren is any relation to the late Jenny Wren who marriedMr Cock Robin. We should imagine from these verses that Mr Wren mustbe well acquainted with _Robbin_. Take one more, Master Loman's `AFunny Story.' We are sorry to find Master Loman tells stories. Boysshouldn't tell stories; it's not right. But Master Loman unfortunatelydoes tell stories, and this is one. He calls it `A Funny Story.' Thatis a story to begin with, for it is not funny. We don't know whatMaster Loman thinks funny; perhaps he calls being run out at cricketfunny, or hitting another boy in the mouth when he's looking anotherway. In any case, we can't make out why he calls this story funny. Theonly funny thing about it is its title, and his spelling `attach'`attatch.' The last is really funny. It shows how partial Mr Loman isto _tea_. If this funny story is the result of his partiality to tea,we are afraid it was very weak stuff."
Loman, who had already been made dreadfully uncomfortable by Simon'spoem, made no secret of his rage over this number of the _Dominican_.He was one of those vain fellows who cannot see a jest where it islevelled at themselves. The rest of the Sixth had the sense, whateverthey felt, to laugh at Anthony's hard hits. But not so Loman; he losthis temper completely. He ordered the _Dominican_ to be taken down; hethreatened to report the whole Fifth to the Doctor. He would not allowthe junior boys to stand and read it. In short, he made a regular assof himself.
Undoubtedly Anthony had put a great deal of venom into his pen. Still,by taking all the poison and none of the humour to himself Loman made agreat mis
take, and displayed a most unfortunate amount of weakness.
He shut himself up in his study in a fume; he boxed Stephen's ears fornothing at all, and would see no one for the rest of the evening. Heknew well he could not have given his enemies a greater crow over himthan such conduct, and yet he could not command his vanity to actotherwise.
But that evening, just before tea-time, something happened which gaveLoman more to think about than the _Dominican_. A letter marked"Immediate" came to him by the post. It was from Cripps, to say that,after all, Sir Patrick _had_ won the Derby!