8. _Unbending the Bow_
"I pray you, give me leave to go from hence, I am not well;" _Merchant of Venice._
"He will not blush, that has a father's heart, To take in childish plays a childish part; But bends his sturdy back to any toy That youth takes pleasure in,--to please his boy."
The football field was a large one, bounded on two sides by tall woodenpalings, and on the other two by a hedge and a new shingled road,separated from the field by a post and rails.
Two of the younger boys, proud of their office, raced down to thefurther end to set up the goal-posts. The rest lounged idly aboutwithout attempting to begin operations, except the new boy Kiffin, whowas seen walking apart from the rest, diligently studying the "rules ofthe game of football," as laid down in a small _Boy's Own Pocket Bookand Manual of Outdoor Sports_, with which he had been careful to providehimself.
At last Tipping suggested that they had better begin, and proposed thatMr. Blinkhorn and himself should toss up for the choice of sides, andthis being done, Mr. Bultitude presently, to his great dismay, heard hisname mentioned. "I'll have young Bultitude," said Tipping; "he used toplay up decently. Look here, you young beggar, you're on my side, and ifyou don't play up it will be the worse for you!"
It was not worth while, however, to protest, since he would so soon berid of the whole crew for ever, and so Paul followed Tipping and histrain with dutiful submission, and the game began.
It was not a spirited performance. Mr. Tinkler, who was not an athlete,retired at once to the post and rails, on which he settled himself toenjoy a railway novel with a highly stimulating cover. Mr. Blinkhorn,who had more conscientious views of his office, charged aboutvigorously, performing all kinds of wonders with the ball, thoughevidently more from a sense of duty than with any idea of enjoyment.
Tipping occasionally took the trouble to oppose him, but as a concessionmerely, and with a parade of being under no necessity to do so; andthese two, with a very small following of enthusiasts on either side,waged a private and confidential kind of warfare in different parts ofthe field, while the others made no pretence of playing for the present,but strolled about in knots, exchanging and bartering the treasuresvaluable in the sight of schoolboys, and gossiping generally.
As for Paul, he did not clearly understand what "playing up" might mean.He had not indulged in football since he was a genuine boy, and thenonly in a rudimentary and primitive form, and without any particularfondness for the exercise. But being now, in spirit at all events, aprecise elderly person, with a decided notion of taking care of himself,he was resolved that not even Tipping should compel him to trust hisperson within range of that dirty brown globe, which whistled past hisear or seemed spinning towards his stomach with such a hideoussuggestion of a cannon-ball about it.
All the ghastly instances, too, of accidents to life and limb in thefootball field came unpleasantly into his memory, and he saw theinadvisability of mingling with the crowd and allowing himself to bekicked violently on the shins.
So he trotted industriously about at a safe distance in order to allaysuspicion, while waiting for a good opportunity to put his scheme ofescape into execution.
At last he could wait no longer, for the fearful thought occurred tohim, that if he remained there much longer, the Doctor--who, as he knewfrom Dick, always came to superintend, if not to share the sports of hispupils--might make his appearance, and then his chance would be lost forthe present, for he knew too well that he should never find courage toask permission from _him_.
With a beating heart he went up to Mr. Tinkler, who was still on thefence with his novel, and asked as humbly as he could bring himself todo:
"If you please, sir, will you allow me to go home? I'm--I'm not feelingat all well."
"Not well! What's the matter with you?" said Mr. Tinkler, withoutlooking up.
Paul had not prepared himself for details, and the sudden questionrather threw him off his guard.
"A slight touch of liver," he said at length. "It takes me after mealssometimes."
"Liver!" said Mr. Tinkler, "you've no right to such a thing at your age;it's all nonsense, you know. Run in and play, that'll set you up again."
"It's fatal, sir," said Paul. "My doctor expressly warned me againsttaking any violent exercise soon after luncheon. If you knew what liveris, you wouldn't say so!"
Mr. Tinkler stared, as well he might, but making nothing of it, andbeing chiefly anxious not to be interrupted any longer, only said, "Oh,well, don't bother me; I daresay it's all right. Cut along!"
So Mr. Bultitude was free; the path lay open to him now. He knew hewould have little difficulty in finding his way to the station, and,once there, he would have the whole afternoon in which to wait for atrain to town.
"I've managed that excellently," he thought, as he ran blithely off,almost like the boy he seemed. "Not the slightest hitch. I defy thefates themselves to stop me now!"
But the fates are ladies, and--not of course that itfollows--occasionally spiteful. It is very rash indeed to be ungallantenough to defy them--they have such an unpleasant habit of accepting thechallenge.
Mr. Bultitude had hardly got clear of the groups scattered about thefield, when he met a small flaxen-haired boy, who was just coming downto join the game. It was Porter, his neighbour of the German lesson.
"There you are, Bultitude, then," he said in his squeaky voice: "I wantyou."
"I can't stop," said Paul, "I'm in a hurry--another time."
"Another time won't do," said little Porter, laying hold of him by hisjacket. "I want that rabbit."
This outrageous demand took Mr. Bultitude's breath away. He had no ideawhat rabbit was referred to, or why he should be required to producesuch an animal at a moment's notice. This was the second time aninconvenient small boy had interfered between him and liberty. He wouldnot be baffled twice. He tried to shake off his persecutor.
"I tell you, my good boy, I haven't such a thing about me. I haven'tindeed. I don't even know what you're talking about."
This denial enraged Porter.
"I say, you fellows," he called out, "come here! Do make Bultitude giveme my rabbit. He says he doesn't know anything about it now!"
At this several of the loungers came up, glad of a distraction.
"What's the matter?" some of them asked.
"Why," whined Porter, "he promised to bring me back a rabbit this term,and now he pretends he does not know anything about it. Make him saywhat he's done with it!"
Mr. Bultitude was not usually ready of resource, but now he had whatseemed a happy thought.
"Gad!" he cried, pretending to recollect it, "so I did--to be sure, arabbit, of course, how could I forget it? It's--it's a splendid rabbit.I'll go and fetch it!"
"Will you?" cried Porter, half relieved. "Where is it, then?"
"Where?" said Paul sharply (he was growing positively brilliant). "Why,in my playbox to be sure; where should it be?"
"It isn't in your playbox, I know," put in Siggers: "because I saw itturned out yesterday and there was no rabbit then. Besides, how could arabbit live in a playbox? He's telling lies. I can see it by his face.He hasn't any rabbit!"
"Of course I haven't!" said Mr. Bultitude. "How should I? I'm not aconjurer. It's not a habit of mine to go about with rabbits concealed onmy person. What's the use of coming to me like this? It's absurd, youknow; perfectly absurd!"
The crowd increased until there was quite a ring formed round Mr.Bultitude and the indignant claimant, and presently Tipping camebustling up.
"What's the row here, you fellows?" he said. "Bultitude again, ofcourse. What's he been doing now?"
"He had a rabbit he said he was keeping for me," explained littlePorter: "and now he won't give it up or tell me what he's done with it."
"He has some mice he ought to give us, too," said one or two new-comers,edging their way to the front.
Mr. Bultitude was of course exceedingly ann
oyed by this unlooked-forinterruption, and still more by such utterly preposterous claims on himfor animals; however, it was easy to explain that he had no such thingsin his possession, and after that of course no more could be said. Hewas beginning to disclaim all liability, when Siggers stopped him.
"Keep that for the present," he said. "I say, we ought to have a regulartrial over this, and get at the truth of it properly. Let's fetch himalong to the goal-posts and judge him!"
He fixed upon the goal-posts as being somehow more formal, and, as hisproposal was well received, two of them grasped Mr. Bultitude by thecollar and dragged him along in procession to the appointed spot betweenthe two flags, while Siggers followed in what he conceived to be ahighly judicial manner, and evidently enjoying himself prodigiously.
Paul, though highly indignant, allowed himself to be led along withoutresistance. It was safest to humour them, for after all it would notlast long, and when they were tired of baiting him he could watch histime and slip quietly away.
When they reached the goal-posts Siggers arranged them in a circle,placing himself, the hapless Paul, and his accusers in the centre. "Youchaps had better all be jurymen," he said. "I'll be judge, and unless hemakes a clean breast of it," he added with judicial impartiality, "thecourt will jolly well punch his ugly young head off."
Siggers' father was an Old Bailey barrister in good and rather sharppractice, so that it was clearly the son's mission to preside on thisoccasion. But unfortunately his hour of office was doomed to be a briefone, for Mr. Blinkhorn, becoming aware that the game was being stillmore scantily supported, and noticing the crowd at the goal, came up toknow the reason of it at a long camel-like trot, his hat on the back ofhis head, his mild face flushed with exertion, and his pebble glassesgleaming in the winter sunshine.
"What are you all doing here? Why don't you join the game? I've comehere to play football with you, and how can I do it if you all slink offand leave me to play by myself?" he asked with pathos.
"Please, sir," said Siggers, alarmed at the threatened loss of hisdignity, "it's a trial, and I'm judge."
"Yes, sir," the whole ring shouted together. "We're trying Bultitude,sir."
On the whole, perhaps, Mr. Bultitude was glad of this interference. Atleast justice would be done now, although this usher had blundered sounpardonably that morning.
"This is childish, you know," said Mr. Blinkhorn, "and it's notfootball. The Doctor will be seriously angry if he comes and sees youtrifling here. Let the boy go."
"But he's cheated some of the fellows, sir," grumbled Tipping andSiggers together.
"Well, _you_'ve no right to punish him if he has. Leave him to me."
"Will you see fair play between them, sir? He oughtn't to be let offwithout being made to keep his word."
"If there is any dispute between you and Bultitude," said Mr. Blinkhorn,"I have no objection to settle it--provided it is within my province."
"Settle it without me," said Paul hurriedly. "I've leave to go home. I'mill."
"Who gave you leave to go home?" asked the master.
"That young man over there on the rails," said Paul.
"I am the proper person to apply to for leave; you know that wellenough," said Mr. Blinkhorn, with a certain coldness in his tone. "Nowthen, Porter, what is all this business about?"
"Please, sir," said Porter, "he told me last term he had a lot ofrabbits at home, and if I liked he would bring me back a lop-eared oneand let me have it cheap, and I gave him two shillings, sir, andsixpence for a hutch to keep it in; and now he pretends he doesn't knowanything about it!"
To Paul's horror two or three other boys came forward with much the sametale. He remembered now that during the holidays he had discovered thatDick was maintaining a sort of amateur menagerie in his bedroom, andthat he had ordered the whole of the livestock to be got rid of orsummarily destroyed.
Now it seemed that the wretched Dick had already disposed of it to theseclamorous boys, and, what was worse, had stipulated with considerableforethought for payment in advance. For the first time he repented hispaternal harshness. Like the netted lion, a paltry white mouse or twowould have set him free; but, less happy than the beast in the fable, hehad not one!
He tried to stammer out excuses. "It's extremely unfortunate," he said,"but the fact is I'm not in a position to meet this--this sudden callupon me. Some other day, perhaps----"
"None of your long words, now," growled Tipping. (Boys hate long wordsas much as even a Saturday Reviewer.) "Why haven't you brought therabbits?"
"Yes," said Mr. Blinkhorn. "Why, having promised to bring the rabbitswith you, haven't you kept your word? You must be able to give someexplanation."
"Because," said Mr. Bultitude, wriggling with embarrassment, "I--that ismy father--found out that my young rascal of a son--I mean his youngrascal of a son (_me_, you know) was, contrary to my express orders,keeping a couple of abominable rabbits in his bedroom, and a quantity offilthy little white mice which he tried to train to climb up thebanisters. And I kept finding the brutes running about my bath-room,and--well, of course, I put a stop to it; and--no, what am I saying?--myfather, of course, he put a stop to it; and, in point of fact, had themall drowned in a pail of water."
It might be thought that he had an excellent opportunity here of avowinghimself, but there was the risk that Mr. Blinkhorn would disbelieve him,and, with the boys, he felt that the truth would do anything butincrease his popularity. But dissembling fails sometimes outside thecopy-books, and Mr. Bultitude's rather blundering attempt at it onlylanded him in worse difficulties.
There was a yell of rage and disappointment from the defrauded ones, whohad cherished a lingering hope that young Bultitude had those rabbitssomewhere, but (like Mr. Barkis and his wooden lemon) found himselfunable to part with them when the time came to fulfil his contract. Andas contempt is a frame of mind highly stimulating to one's self-esteem,even those who had no personal interest in the matter joined in theexecrations with hearty goodwill and sympathy.
"Why did you let him do it? They were ours, not his. What right had yourgovernor to go and drown our rabbits, eh?" they cried wrathfully.
"What right?" said Paul. "Mustn't a man do as he pleases in his ownhouse, then? I--he was not obliged to see the house overrun with vermin,I suppose?"
But this only made them angrier, and they resented his defence withhoots, and groans, and hisses.
Mr. Blinkhorn meanwhile was pondering the affair conscientiously. Atlast he said, "But you know the Doctor would never allow animals to bekept in the school, if Bultitude had brought them. The whole thing isagainst the rules, and I shall not interfere."
"Ah, but," said Chawner, "he promised them all to day-boarders. TheDoctor couldn't object to that, could he, sir?"
"True," said Mr. Blinkhorn, "true. I was not aware of that. Well then,Bultitude, since you are prevented from performing what you promised todo, I'm sure you won't object to do what is fair and right in thematter?"
"I don't think I quite follow you," said Mr. Bultitude. But he dreadedwhat was coming next.
"It's very simple. You have taken money from these boys, and if youcan't give them value for it, you ought to return all you took fromthem. I'm sure you see that yourself."
"I don't admit that I owe them anything," said Paul; "and at all eventsit is highly inconvenient to pay them now."
"If your own sense of honour isn't enough," said Mr. Blinkhorn, "I musttake the matter into my own hands. Let every boy who has any claim uponhim tell me exactly what it is."
One boy after another brought forward his claim. One had entrusted Dick,it appeared, with a shilling, for which he was to receive a mouse with a"plum saddle," and two others had invested ninepence each in white mice.With Porter's half-crown, the total came to precisely fiveshillings--all Paul had in the world, the one rope by which he couldever hope to haul himself up to his lost pinnacle!
Mr. Blinkhorn, naturally enough, saw no reason why the money, beingclearly due, should not be
paid at once. "Give me any money you haveabout you, Bultitude," he said, "and I'll satisfy your debts with it, asfar as it goes."
Paul clasped his arm convulsively. "No!" he cried hoarsely, "not that!Don't make me do that! I--I can't pay them--not now. They don'tunderstand. If they only give me time they shall have double their moneyback--waggon-loads of rabbits, the best rabbits money can buy--ifthey'll wait. Tell them to wait. My dear sir, don't see me wronged! Iwon't pay now!"
"They have waited long enough," said Mr. Blinkhorn; "you must pay them."
"I tell you I won't!" cried Paul; "do you hear? Not one sixpence. Oh, ifyou knew! That infernal Garuda Stone! What fools people are!"
Then in his despair he did the most fatal thing possible. He tried tosave himself by flight, and with a violent plunge broke through thecircle and made for the road which led towards the station.
Instantly the whole school, only too glad of the excitement, was at hisheels. The unhappy Colonial Produce merchant ran as he had not run for aquarter of a century, faster even than he had on his first experience ofCoggs' and Coker's society on that memorable Monday night. But in spiteof his efforts the chase was a short one. Chawner and Tipping very soonhad him by the collar, and brought him back, struggling and kicking outviciously, to Mr. Blinkhorn, whose good opinion he had now lost forever.
"Please, sir," said Chawner, "I can feel something like a purse in hispocket. Shall I take it out, sir?"
"As he refuses to act with common honesty--yes," said Mr. Blinkhorn.
It was Dick's purse, of course; and in spite of Paul's frantic effortsto retain it, it was taken from him, its contents equitably dividedamongst the claimants, and the purse itself returned to him--empty.
"Now, Bultitude," said Mr. Blinkhorn, "if you really wish to leave thefield, you may."
Mr. Bultitude lost what little temper he had yet to lose; he flung theuseless purse from him and broke away from them all in a conditionlittle removed from insanity.
Leave the field! What a mockery the permission was now. How was he toget home, a distance of more than fifty miles, without a penny in hispocket? Ten minutes before, and freedom was within his grasp, and now ithad eluded him and was as hopelessly out of reach as ever!
No one pitied him; no one understood the real extent of his loss. Mr.Blinkhorn and the few enthusiasts went back to their unobtrusive game,while the rest of the school discussed the affair in groups, the popularindignation against young Bultitude's hitherto unsuspected meannessgrowing more marked every instant.
It might have even taken some decided and objectionable form beforelong, but when it was at its height there was a sudden cry of alarm."_Cave_, you fellows, here's Grim!" and indeed in the far distance theDoctor's portly and imposing figure could be seen just turning thecorner into the field.
Mr. Bultitude felt almost cheered. This coming to join his pupils'sports showed a good heart; the Doctor would almost certainly be in agood humour, and he cheated himself into believing that, at someinterval in the game, he might perhaps find courage to draw near andseek to interest him in his incredible woes.
It was quite extraordinary to see how the game, which had hithertodecidedly languished and hung fire, now quickened into briskness andbecame positively spirited. Everyone developed a hearty interest in it,and it would almost seem as if the boys, with more delicacy than theyare generally credited with, were unwilling to let their master guesshow little his indulgence was really appreciated. Even Mr. Tinkler,whose novel had kept him spell-bound on his rail all through the recentexcitement, now slipped it hurriedly into his pocket and rushedenergetically into the fray, shouting encouragement ratherindiscriminately to either side, till he had an opportunity of findingout privately to which leader he had been assigned.
Dr. Grimstone came down the field at a majestic slow trot, calling outto the players as he came on--"Well done, Mutlow! Finely played, sir!Dribble it along now. Ah, you're afraid of it! Run into it, sir, runinto it! No running with the ball now, Siggers; play without those pettymeannesses, or leave the game! There, leave the ball to me, willyou--leave it to me!"
And, as the ball had rolled in his direction, he punted it up in anexceedingly dignified manner, the whole school keeping respectfullyapart, until he had brought it to a reasonable distance from the goal,when he kicked it through with great solemnity, amidst faint, and it isto be feared somewhat sycophantic applause, and turned away with the airof a man surfeited of success.
"For which side did I win that?" he asked presently, whereupon Tippingexplained that his side had been the favoured one. "Well then," he said,"you fellows must all back me up, or I shall not play for you any more;"and he kicked off the ball for the next game.
It was noticeable that the party thus distinguished did not seemprecisely overwhelmed with pleasure at the compliment, which, as theyknew from experience, implied considerable exertion on their part, andeven disgrace if they were unsuccessful.
The other side too looked unhappy, feeling themselves in a position ofextreme delicacy and embarrassment. For if they played their best, theyran some risk of offending the Doctor, or, what was worse, drawing himover into their ranks; while if, on the other hand, they allowedthemselves to be too easily worsted, they might be suspected ofsulkiness and temper--offences which he was very ready to discover andresent.
Dr. Grimstone for his part enjoyed the exercise, and had no idea that hewas not a thoroughly welcome and valued playmate. But though it waspleasant to outsiders to see a schoolmaster permitting himself to sharein the recreation of his pupils, it must be owned that to the latter theadvantages of the arrangement seemed something more than dubious.
Mr. Bultitude, being on the side adopted by the Doctor, found too soonthat he was expected to bestir himself. More than ever anxious now toconciliate, he did his very best to conquer his natural repugnance andappear more interested than alarmed as the ball came in his way; butalthough (in boating slang) he "sugared" with some adroitness, he waspromptly found out, for his son had been a dashing and plucky player.
It was bitter for him to run meekly about while scathing sarcasms andcomments on his want of courage were being hurled at his head. Itshattered the scanty remnants of his self-respect, but he dared notprotest or say a single word to open the Doctor's eyes to the injusticehe was doing him.
He was unpleasantly reminded, too, of the disfavour he had acquiredamongst his companions, by some one or other of them running up to himevery moment when the Doctor's attention was called elsewhere, andstartling his nerves by a sly jog or pinch, or an abusive epithet hissedviciously into his ears--Chawner being especially industrious in thisrespect.
And in this unsatisfactory way the afternoon dragged along until thedusk gathered and the lamps were lighted, and it became too dark to seegoal-posts or ball.
By the time play was stopped and the school reformed for the march home,Mr. Bultitude felt that he was glad even to get back to labour as arelief from such a form of enjoyment. It was perhaps the most miserableafternoon he had ever spent in his whole easy-going life. In the courseof it he had passed from brightest hope to utter despair; and nownothing remained to him but to convince the Doctor, which he felt quiteunequal to do, or to make his escape without money--which wouldinevitably end in a recapture.
May no one who reads this ever be placed upon the horns of such adilemma!