*CHAPTER X.*
*GOING DOWN HILL.*
Nowhere was the result of the examination received with greater surprisethan at the Deanery School. It is safe to say that every boy lookedtwice at the published list before admitting Jim Hartland's name was notthere.
On the following morning the boys of the upper classes, gatheringtogether in the playground, discussed the matter excitedly.
"It's just what I've always said," exclaimed Simpson; "the chap's nobetter than the rest of us. Just because he can play cricket a bit, weput him on the top of a monument, and now, down he comes--flop!"
"Well, you needn't be afraid of tumbling," laughed little Macdonald,"because you'll never be put on the top of anything. You're alwayshaving a dig at Hartland, because he wouldn't have you in the cricketeleven."
"Well said, Alec!" cried the Angel. "That's the truth. Now look at me.I came out fourth."
"So you did!"
"Good old Angel!"
"You'll be first another time!"
"Oh, what rot!" exclaimed Dick. "Can't you let a fellow speak? What Iwant to say is that Jim Hartland's twice as good as me."
"He didn't make much show, anyhow," growled Simpson.
"No, he didn't. And why? Because, when his father was drowned, he wentto work to help his mother. If it hadn't been for that, he'd have wonthe 'Gayton' easily."
"Well, he lost it!" growled Simpson; "and through him the Deanery lostit, too!"
"How's that?"
"How's that! Why, wasn't it through his bounce that Dandy Braithwaitegot drowned?"
"Don't listen to him, Angel," said Macdonald, for Dick had doubled uphis fists, and his eyes were flashing fire.
"Pooh!" said Simpson. "I don't care; everybody knows it's true."
"He owned as much as that himself," chimed in Archer, who owed Jim agrudge.
"Perhaps you think he wanted Braithwaite to get drowned," exclaimed Dicksarcastically, "and that he and I put up the little job between us?"
"I'm not saying anything against you," replied Simpson; "but I do sayit's Hartland's fault we lost the 'Gayton,' and you can take it how youlike."
This was the view held by many of the Deanery boys, who were very sorethat the scholarship had gone to St. Paul's. Thus the subject of thetragedy was brought to the front again, and during the interval atmorning school Jim could not help overhearing some of the remarks.Angry and miserable, he went to a corner of the playground, where Dickfollowed him.
"Look here, Jim," said the Angel cheerily; "don't mope about the'Gayton.' We've all seen the list, of course, and I'm awfully sorry youaren't in it. It's too ridiculous putting me above you. I know that,and so do the others. It's like turning you out of the eleven to putSimpson in; but buck up, old chap--you'll soon get over it."
"I wasn't thinking about you, Dicky," replied his chum. "I'm jolly gladyou're high up."
"What are you looking so miserable about, then?"
"Oh, hang it all!" cried Jim excitedly; "can't you hear what the fellowsare saying? They look at me as black as thunder!"
"Let 'em," rejoined the Angel serenely; "that won't hurt you."
"Oh," said Jim, jerking himself away savagely, "it's easy for you totalk! I wish the place was at the bottom of the sea!"
"I don't!" replied Dick. "My mac's worn out, and I shan't get anotherthis side of Christmas. Here's Macdonald coming; don't eat him."
"I say, Hartland," began Alec, who was as red as a turkey-cock, "I'mawfully sorry you didn't get the 'Gayton.' I know from what the Angelhas said that you've had jolly hard lines."
"Thanks!" growled Jim. "But I wonder you aren't afraid to be seenspeaking to me."
"I wish you didn't feel so cut up about it," returned Macdonald,ignoring Jim's surliness. "You're looking at it through magnifyingglasses."
Unfortunately Jim did feel _cut up_, and by continual brooding madehimself more and more miserable. From this time, I fear, he began to goslowly down hill, and the only gleam of good feeling he displayed waswith regard to his mother and Susie.
"I'm very sorry, my boy," said his mother, when he told her; "and yet Ishall never think of this scholarship without feeling proud of you. Iknow you had a good chance of winning it, and threw it away for the sakeof helping me."
"No, no, mother," cried the boy cheerfully; "you mustn't look at it thatway. I mightn't have won the scholarship at all; and anyhow, I couldn'thave accepted it."
On Sunday, when at the hospital, he talked to Susie much in the sameway, making light of his disappointment so successfully that the girlwas quite deceived.
At school, however, he was very different, becoming surly and morose,and making enemies of the boys who would willingly have remained hisfriends.
Mr. Broad, too, noticed his altered manner; but knowing thecircumstances, he said nothing, thinking the trouble would soon blowover; besides, Jim did not neglect his work. He was always punctual,and had such a quick grasp of his duties that he saved his employer agreat deal of labour.
His usefulness in the shop led Mr. Broad to engage the services of asmaller boy for the evening round, while Jim was promoted to the dignityof serving behind the counter. This made him later at night, but hegenerally found an opportunity of doing his lessons before going home.His wages were raised to six shillings a week, and there was some talkof his going into the business altogether when he left school.
"Keep steady, my boy," said his employer, "learn all you can here, andthere is no reason why you should not get on well."
Unfortunately Jim had drifted away from his schoolmates, seeing littleeven of Dick. To a certain extent this was inevitable, but Dick soondiscovered that his old chum was beginning to lose pleasure in hiscompany.
The truth was that Jim had picked up some new friends, with whom he knewquite well that Dick would have nothing to do. He himself was a littleashamed of them, but he eased his conscience by saying he must have someone to talk to. One night on leaving the shop he found the Angeloutside.
"Hullo, Dick," he said; "anything wrong?"
"Oh no. I had an hour to spare, so I thought I'd come and meetyou--that's all. We haven't seen much of each other lately."
"That isn't my fault."
"No; I'm not blaming you. I was awfully disappointed last night,though."
Jim's face became red.
"How is that?" he asked.
"Oh, I came round last night just in time to see you going off withCurly Peters and his chum."
"Why shouldn't I? What's the matter with Curly?"
"Oh, nothing!" replied Dick airily--"only he's a foul-mouthed littleblackguard. Perhaps you'll take him with you on Sunday to see Susie?"
That shot struck home, and Jim winced, but he answered sneeringly,--
"You'll be getting another nickname soon: they'll be calling you theSaint."
"They might do worse," replied Dick cheerfully. "Anyhow, I'd make acleaner saint than Curly."
"That's right!" exclaimed Jim, trying to work himself into a passion;"you're like all the rest. Just because the chap's poor and has nofriends you're down on him. I've been through it myself."
The Angel laughed genially.
"There's something in that," he agreed. "You see, we Baxter's Courtmillionaires"--Dick lived in a tiny house in Baxter's Court--"don't caremuch to mix up with poor people. But Curly has a few extra points inhis favour. He's dirty, he loafs about the town cadging for coppersinstead of going to work, he thinks it big to swear, and I don't knowthat he's over honest."
"Well, he hasn't asked for your company," said Jim sullenly.
"No," replied the Angel with a smile; "perhaps that's why I'm prejudicedagainst him. And now let's talk about something else. How's Susie?"
"Better," said Jim, his face brightening. "The doctor says he is morethan satisfied."
Let me hasten to place something to the credit side of Jim's account.Whatever evil habits he might have falle
n into, he was a good brother.At every opportunity he visited the hospital to cheer his sister. Withher he was always kind and bright and cheerful. For her sake he deniedhimself many little pleasures, saving up his odd coppers in order to buysome little present that would please and delight her.
As for Susie, she thought there was no one like her brother; to her hewas the one hero in the world, followed, though at a long distance, byDick.
On the subject of Susie, therefore, the boys could talk withoutrestraint; but when that was exhausted they became silent, both vaguelyrealizing that, in some strange way, a barrier was rising up betweenthem, and that the good old times were gradually disappearing.
Both were sorry; yet the mischief appeared unavoidable. Dick tried hardto restore matters to their former footing. He was really fond of Jim,and could not see him drift without an effort to check him. Frequentlyhe waited outside the shop till his chum left, thinking to entice himaway from his fresh associates.
One night as they walked away together Curly Peters came towards them.
"You aren't going to stop, are you?" asked Dick anxiously.
"Why not? D'you think he'll give us the plague?"
"Oh, well," said Dick, "I'm off. I'd be ashamed to be seen speaking tohim."
Now this was an unfortunate remark, as it reminded Jim of an incidentwhich occurred only the previous evening. Mr. Broad, coming into theshop unexpectedly, had seen Peters slinking out.
"What did that customer want, Hartland?" he asked sharply.
Jim felt cornered for a moment, but replied steadily,--
"He wanted to know if there was a chance of getting a paper job."
This was a lie; but I warned you Jim had sadly deteriorated, and hedared not tell his master that the boy was his friend.
Thinking of this, he turned on Dick savagely, saying,--
"He's good enough for me if he isn't for you."
"All right," exclaimed Dick; "every one to his taste. Some people Iknow have a lot of taste--all bad. Good-night, old man. Hope you'llhave a bath when you get home."
"My stars!" cried Curly, as Dick went off; "ain't we getting proud?Washing and charing must be goin' up. It ought to make you feel taller,Jimmy, talking to a toff like that."
"Keep your chaff to yourself," said Jim crossly. "Dick Boden's a heapbetter than you or me."
Curly opened his eyes wide, but being a wise youth in his generation,and having a particular object in view, he let the subject drop.
"You couldn't lend me another sixpence, Jimmy, I suppose?" he said aftera time.
"No," said Jim shortly, "I couldn't; and what's more, I'd like the lastone back."
"You shall have it in a few days, but I've been awfully unlucky lately.I'll pay you back, never fear. I wouldn't like you to have to borrowfrom the old man's till; it's dangerous."
"Borrow from the till? What do you mean?"
"Nothin'; only I once knew a feller who did that. When he wanted anymoney he used to take it from the till, and pay it back Saturdaynights."
"Why, he was just a common thief!" exclaimed Jim scornfully. "I'drather starve than do that."
"Of course you would," said Curly approvingly, "and so would I. Let usbe honest if we are poor; that's my motto. But it's hard when a chap'sstarvin', you know. Where are you goin'?"
"Home," said Jim. "I'm tired."
"All right. I'll pay you that tanner soon. Wouldn't it be a lark tomarch into the shop and ask the boss for my friend, Jim Hartland?"
"I don't think you'd better," said Jim. "He mightn't like it."
"What did he say last night, then?"
"Oh, well, you see," replied Jim hesitatingly, "I didn't tell him. AndI say, Curly, you'd better give me the sixpence in the street."
"All right," replied Curly; "I'll remember." Then himself he added,"Well, he is a blessed mug, and mistake. One of the regularold-fashioned sort."