CHAPTER XXXVI.
HUGH JOHN'S WAY-GOING.
The secret which had oppressed society after the return of Mr. PictonSmith from London, being revealed, was that Hugh John and Sammy Carterwere both to go to school. For a while it appeared as if thefoundations of the world had been undercut--the famous fellowship ofnoble knights disbanded, Prissy and Cissy, ministering angel and wildtomboy, alike abandoned to the tender mercies of mere governesses.
Strangest of all to Prissy was the indubitable fact that Hugh Johnwanted to go. At the very first mention of school he promptly forgotall about his noblest military ambitions, and began oiling hiscricket bat and kicking his football all over the green. Mr. Burnhamwas anxious about his pupil's Latin and more than doubtful about hisVulgar Fractions; but the General himself was chiefly bent onimproving his round arm bowling, and getting that break from the leftdown to a fine point.
Every member of the household was more or less disturbed by the comingexodus--except Sir Toady Lion. On the last fateful morning thatself-contained youth maundered about as usual among his pets, carryingto and fro saucers of milk, dandelion leaves cut small, and otherdainties--though Hugh John's boxes were standing corded and labelledin the hall, though Prissy was crying herself sick on her bed, andthough there was even a dry hard lump high up in the great hero's ownmanly throat.
His father was giving his parting instructions to his eldest son.
"Work hard, my boy," he said. "Tell the truth, never tell tales, noryet listen to them. Mind your own business. Don't fight, if you canhelp it; but if you have to, be sure you get home with your leftbefore the other fellow. Practise your bowling, the batting willpractise itself. And when you play golf, keep your eye on the ball."
"I'll try to play up, father," said Hugh John, "and anyway I won't be'dasht-mean'!"
His father was satisfied.
Then it was Prissy who came to say good-bye. She had made all sortsof good resolutions, but in less than half a minute she was bawlingundisguisedly on the hero's neck. And as for the hero--well, we willnot say what he was doing, something most particularly unheroic at anyrate.
Janet Sheepshanks hovered in the background, saying all the time, "Forshame, Miss Priscilla, think shame o' yoursel'--garring the laddiegreet like that when he's gaun awa'!"
But even Janet herself was observed to blow her own nose very often,and to offer Hugh John the small garden hoe instead of the neatlywrapped new silk umbrella she had bought for him out of her own money.
And all the while Sir Toady Lion kept on carrying milk and freshlettuce leaves to his stupid lop-eared rabbits. Yet it was by no meansinsensibility which kept him thus busied. He was only playing hisusual lone hand.
Yet even Toady Lion was not without his own proper sense of theimportance of the occasion.
"There's a funny fing 'at you wants to see at the stile behind thestable," he remarked casually to Hugh John, as he went past the frontdoor with an armful of hay for bedding, "but I promised not to tellw'at it is."
Immediately Hugh John slunk out, ran off in an entirely differentdirection, circled about the "office houses," reached the stile behindthe stable--and there, with her eyes very big, and her underlipquivering strangely, he discovered Cissy Carter.
He stopped short and looked at her. The pressure of having to sayfarewell, or of making a stated speech of any kind, weighed heavilyupon him. The two looked at each other like young wild animals--or asif they were children who had never been introduced, which is the samething.
"Hugh John Picton, you don't care!" sobbed Cissy at last. "And I don'tcare either!" she added haughtily, commanding herself after a patheticlittle pause.
"I do, I do," answered Hugh John vehemently, "only every fellow hasto. Sammy is going too, you know!"
"Oh, I don't care a button for Sammy!" was Cissy's most unsisterlyspeech.
Hugh John tried to think of something to say. Cissy was now sobbingquietly and persistently, and that did not seem to help him.
"Say, don't now, Ciss! Stop it, or you'll make me cry too!"
"You don't care! You don't love me a bit! You know you don't!"
"I do--I do," protested the hero, in despair, "there--there--_now_ youcan't say I don't care."
"But you'll be so different when you come back, and you'll have lostyour half of the crooked sixpence."
"I won't, for true, Cissy--and I shan't ever look at another girl norplay horses with them even if they ask me ever so."
"You will, I know you will!"
A rumble of wheels, a shout from the front door--"Hugh John--wherevercan that boy have got to?"
"Good-bye, Ciss, I must go. Oh hang it, don't go making a fellow cry.Well, I _will_ say it then, 'I love you, Ciss!' There--will thatsatisfy you?"
"A SLIM BUNDLE OF LIMP WOE."]
Something lit on the end of Cissy's nose, which was very red and wetwith the tears that had run down it. There was a clatter of feet, andthe Lord of Creation had departed. Cissy sank down behind the stonewall, a slim bundle of limp woe, done up in blue serge trimmed withscarlet.
The servants were gathered in the hall. Several of the maids werealready wet-eyed, for Hugh John had "the way with him" that made allwomen want to "mother" him. Besides, he had no mother of his own.
"Good-bye, Master Hugh!" they said, and sniffed as they said it.
"Good-bye, everybody," cried the hero, "soon be back again, you know."He said this very loudly to show that he did not care. He was goingdown the steps with Prissy's fingers clutched in his, and every onewas smiling. All went merry as a marriage bell--never had been seen sojovial a way-going.
"_Ugh--ugh--ugh!_" somebody in the hall suddenly sobbed out from amongthe white caps of the maids.
"Go upstairs instantly, Jane. Don't disgrace yourself!" cried JanetSheepshanks sharply, stamping her foot. For the sound of Jane's suddenand shameful collapse sent the other maids' aprons furtively up totheir eyes.
And Janet Sheepshanks had no apron. Not that she needed one--of coursenot.
"Come on, Hugh John--the time is up!" said his father from the side ofthe dog-cart, where (somewhat ostentatiously) he had been refasteningstraps which Mike had already done to a nicety.
At this moment Toady Lion passed with half a dozen lettuce leaves. Hewas no more excited "than nothing at all," as Prissy indignantly saidafterwards.
"Good-bye, Toady Lion," said Hugh John, "you can have my other batand the white rat with the pink eyes."
Toady Lion stood with the lettuce leaves in his arms, looking on in abored sort of way. Prissy could have slapped him if her hands had notbeen otherwise employed.
He did not say a word till his brother was perched up aloft on thedog-cart with his cricket bat nursed between his knees and a newhard-hat pulled painfully over his eyes. Then at last Toady Lionspoke. "Did 'oo find the funny fing behind the stable, Hugh John?"
Before Hugh John had time to reply, the dog-cart drove away amid sharpexplosions of grief from the white-capped throng. Jane Housemaiddripped sympathy from a first-floor window till the gravel was wet asfrom a smart shower. Toady Lion alone stood on the steps with hisusual expression of bored calmness. Then he turned to Prissy.
"Why is 'oo so moppy?"
"Oh, you go away--you've got no heart!" said Prissy, and resumed herluxury of woe.
If Toady Lion had been a Gallic boy, we should have said that heshrugged his shoulders. At all events, he smiled covertly to thelettuces as he moved off in the direction of the rabbit-hutches.
"It was a _very_ funny fing w'at was behind the stable," he said. ForSir Toady Lion was a humorist. And you can't be a humorist withoutbeing a little hard-hearted. Only the heart of a professional writerof pathos can be one degree harder.