*CHAPTER IX.*
*THE RESULT OF THE EXAMINATION.*
There was a subdued air about Mr. Laythorne's class the next morning,and the boys could not keep their eyes from the desk which PercyBraithwaite had occupied. He had not been very popular, but thestartling tragedy had gripped their minds, making them feel really sorryfor the loss of their schoolmate.
As to Jim Hartland, opinion was divided. Some of the boys rather pitiedhim, others looked on him as a hero, while a few blamed him outright forbeing the cause of Braithwaite's death.
"He should have known better," said one. "It might have been all verywell for him and the Angel, but 'twas a fool's game to let Dandy into.I don't suppose he had ever gone to the Fort before, even in daylight."
"They must have been blind not to have seen the tide coming in,"exclaimed another. "And fancy Dick Boden, the little idiot, letting 'emgrub about there, while he had the knife in his pocket all the time!"
"Oh, that's just like one of the Angel's tricks! But he's a good-heartedlittle chap, and this business has cut him up dreadfully."
Somehow, in the eyes of his schoolfellows, Dick rarely did wrong; andeven those who looked askance at Jim were unwilling to say anythingagainst his popular chum.
All this chatter took place in the playground before either of the twoboys arrived, for Dick was rather late, while Jim did not get in tillafter prayers. He winced, too, on seeing the vacant desk, butfortunately his mind was somewhat preoccupied by wondering what Dr.Stewart would be able to do for Susie.
The morning seemed terribly long, but he stumbled through his lessonswithout actual failure, and as soon as school was dismissed, started forhome at full speed. Panting and blowing, he got to the door just as thedoctor was leaving.
"Hullo!" exclaimed Dr. Stewart kindly; "there's no need to ask how youare. Well, I've seen your sister. Mother will tell you all about it."And stepping into his gig, he drove off.
Mrs. Hartland's first words brought the blood to the boy's face.
"O Jim," she cried, "he thinks there's a chance for Susie. He won'tpromise, of course, but he is quite hopeful about it. He has been herenearly two hours, though knowing perfectly well that I can't pay him.And what do you think he has offered to do?"
"I can't guess," replied the boy.
"To get her into the private hospital for children. He's going to send anurse and a proper invalid-chair in the morning, and attend to herhimself, just as if he were charging a big fee."
"He's a real old brick!" exclaimed Jim enthusiastically.
"And he thinks--though, of course, I haven't told Susie--that at the endof six months she may be able to _walk_! He says there was a girlsuffering just like Susie in a Scotch hospital, and she was cured. Butthere is only a chance, of course."
"What does Susie say about going?"
"Well, the poor child is rather timid and nervous but she is quitewilling. It's wonderful how she has taken to the doctor."
Before getting his dinner, Jim ran up to his sister, who was in bed, andfeeling rather weary after the medical examination.
"Has mother told you?" she asked, smiling bravely.
"Yes. Isn't it glorious? You don't mind going, do you? I shall cometo see you on Sundays. And oh, suppose--suppose you should be able towalk some day!"
There was a suspicion of tears in her eyes as she answered, "Don't talkabout that, Jim--not yet. I try not to think of it, because it maynever happen."
"I believe it will, though," declared Jim stoutly. "The doctor would notsay there was a chance unless he felt pretty sure of it."
"Did he say that?" asked the girl eagerly.
"Yes; only you must keep up your spirits and go on hoping all the time.Now I must run off, or I shall be late for school."
At the door she called him back, saying, "I should like to see Dickbefore I go."
"So you shall. I'll tell him presently, and he'll come in this evening.Old Dick will be as happy as a sand-boy when he hears the news."
As it happened, Jim had no chance to speak to his chum till afterschool, when, as usual, Dick went a part of the way to the shop withhim.
"I'll go in directly after tea," he said, his eyes sparkling. "Poorlittle midge! 'twill be dreary enough in the hospital; but, I say, fancyher walking! Even if she has to use a crutch it will be something.Well, I'll turn off here and run straight home. Good-night, in case I'mgone when you get back."
True to his word, Dr. Stewart sent a nurse with the famous chair thenext morning, and also looked in himself to superintend the removal ofhis little patient.
"There," said he, "now you're comfortable--eh? Oh yes; mother's comingtoo. Why, it's quite a royal procession. And on Sunday we shall haveour big brother to see how we're getting on--eh, my lassie?"
Brook Street showed unwonted excitement over the child's removal, anddiscussed it volubly and freely, agreeing on the whole with the crushingremark of Mrs. Archer, whose chief occupation in life was discussing theaffairs of her neighbours.
"As much fuss," said she scornfully, "as if she was a real lady! An'her brother goin' round with papers! It's a wonder they don't have acarriage with houtriders and postillions, like the King!"
Meanwhile Susie was taken to the hospital and carried into a roomcontaining four beds. Over one hung a card with "Susie Hartland"written on it, and the child smiled with pleasure on seeing the snowysheets and soft white pillows and pretty counterpane. Then, when shewas cozily tucked up, her mother sat and talked to her cheerfully, and anurse brought games and picture-books with which she could amuse herselflater on.
She cried a little when the time came for parting with her mother, butthe nurse was so kind and gentle that she soon dried her tears.
Mrs. Hartland felt the separation too, especially in the evening, whenshe sat alone with her work. Although an invalid, Susie was alwaysbright and cheerful, and her good spirits had done much to lessen hermother's grief.
The excitement attending his sister's going away had buoyed Jim up, andkept him from moping, but now he began to brood over the unluckyaccident at the Old Fort. Although a strong, healthy boy, he wasextremely sensitive, and conjured up all sorts things that existed onlyin his imagination. School no longer had any attraction for him; he cuthimself adrift from his old companions, even endeavouring to shake Dickoff, but the Angel stuck to him resolutely.
"You're a silly duffer, Jim," said he, with charming frankness. "What'sthe use of moping about like a barn owl? You did your best to saveBraithwaite, and you can't bring him back to life, anyhow. I'm as sorryas you, but pulling a long face won't do any good."
"Every one's down on me," answered Jim sulkily. "Laythorne hardlyspeaks, and the fellows look as if I had committed a murder; and it'sjust the same in the town. I'm sick of it. I wish I'd been drownedmyself."
"Pooh!" said Dick; "you're talking rubbish. I'm ashamed of you, Jim,'pon my word. I thought you had more grit. I'm sure no one could havebeen kinder than Laythorne; and as for the fellows--why, half of themthink you're a greater hero than Nelson. You should hear 'em talk!"
"I've a good mind to get a berth on board ship," said Jim gloomily.
"What? and leave your mother and sister? Well you're a bigger cowardthan I ever took you for, Jim Hartland!"
This was the first unpleasantness that had occurred between the twochums; but Dick was in dead earnest and did not mince his words. Betterbalanced than Jim, he took a more sensible view of things. He admittedthey had acted foolishly, and without thought; but they had done theirbest, Jim especially, to remedy the mistake. They bitterly regrettednot being able to rescue their companion, but to Dick's mind this was noreason why they should spoil their own lives.
It is likely enough that Jim would have come round to this view, but foran unexpected event which revived the interest in Braithwaite's death.
One evening he had gone as usual into the shop directly after tea. Mr.Broad was absent when the pa
pers arrived, so that Jim, after arrangingthe bundle, had a few minutes to spare.
Opening one of the papers, he saw in big type--"The Gayton Scholarship."His heart beat fast, and for a second or two he dared not look farther.Then with feverish anxiety he read the paragraph at a glance, and stoodleaning over the counter like one dazed. Was it possible? Could it bereally true? Surely there must be some mistake! Half mechanically hiseves wandered over the words again, but with the same result.
This is the announcement as it appeared in _The Beauleigh EveningNews_:--
"THE GAYTON SCHOLARSHIP.--The result of the examination for the GaytonScholarship is now to hand. Forty-five candidates, the cream of theelementary schools, were examined, and we give below the names of thesix highest, with the number of marks obtained by each out of a possiblethousand:--
CANDIDATE. SCHOOL. MARKS.
Braithwaite, Percy . . . . Deanery . . . . . . . 871 Temple, Hugh . . . . . . . St. Paul's . . . . . 868 Carter, Robert . . . . . . Bath Street Board . . 839 Boden, Richard . . . . . . Deanery . . . . . . . 810 Jones, Samuel . . . . . . Royal British . . . . 750 Morris, William Charles . Somerton Board . . . 716
The honour of winning the scholarship thus goes to the Deanery School;but, unhappily, the successful candidate cannot take advantage of hisvictory. Our readers will, no doubt, remember the sad accident whichrecently occurred at the Old Fort, in which Percy Braithwaite lost hislife. Great sympathy is felt for the sorrowing parents. It is sad tothink of the early termination to what evidently might have been adistinguished career. The scholarship will therefore be awarded to thecandidate next on the list, Hugh Temple of St. Paul's, who, it will benoticed, is only three marks behind the leader."
At first, Jim could think of nothing but the blow to his own pride.Most of the Deanery boys fully expected him to win the scholarship; theyhad coupled his name with it as far back as the cricket match for theChallenge Shield; they had looked up to him as their champion. And nowthe list was out, and he was not even in the first six!
I am sorry to admit it, but the truth must be told. Jim fairly brokedown. He was angry, mortified, and ashamed. He felt the blow withbitter humiliation, and while doing his round that evening he had notthe courage to look any one in the face. It seemed as if all the townmust be jeering at him as a dead failure.
He could have yielded pride of place to Temple, but to be beaten byBraithwaite, and even by the light-hearted Angel! This was where thesting lay, because, knowing the extent of their abilities, he felt thathe was far superior to them.
Of course, he had had hard lines in his father's death, in the necessityfor finding work, and again in his mother's illness; but he could nottell all the world that. The Deanery fellows bothered little about hismisfortunes; in their eyes the thing would be simple enough: he hadfailed even to get into the first six, and there was an end of it.
When he got home that night, he said nothing of the news; so that hismother, who rarely bought a paper, did not know that the list was out.
"She will know soon enough," he thought bitterly, "and on Sunday I shallhave to tell Susie."