NORTHWESTERN
UNIVERSITY
LIBRARY
The Gift of
in AS . EE IL E I TEL
A w w w f\ w *N m A
ASHEK'S COLLECTION
OF
ENGLISH AUTHORS.
Vol. 200.
VICE VERSA.
VICE VERSA
OK
A LESSON TO FATHERS
BY
F. ANSTEY . I
COPYRIGHT ED1TIOX.
HAMBURG.
KARL URADENER & J. F. RICHTER.
1883.
PREFACE.
There is an old story of a punctiliously polite
Greek, who, while performing the funeral of an
infant daughter, felt bound to make his excuses
to the spectators for "bringing out such a ridi¬
culously small corpse to so large a crowd."
The Author, although he trusts that the
present production has more vitality than the Greek
gentleman's child, still feels that in these days of
philosophical fiction, metaphysical romance, and
novels with a purpose, some apology may perhaps
be needed for a tale which has the unambitious
and frivolous aim of mere amusement
However, he ventures to leave the tale to be
its own apology, merely contenting nimself with
the entreaty that his little fish may be spared the
rebuke that it is not a whale.
In submitting it with all possible respect to
the Public, he conceives that no form of words
he could devise would appeal so simply and power¬
fully to their feelings as that which he has ventured
to adopt from a certain Anglo-Portuguese Phrase-
Book of deserved popularity.
Like the compilers of that work, he—"expects
then who the little book, for the care what he
wrote him and her typographical corrections, will
commend itself to the—British Paterfamilias—at
which he dedicates him particularly."
CONTENTS.
chapter page
I. Black Monday 1
IT. A Grand Transformation Scene .... 18
III. In The Toils 39
IV. A Minnow amongst Tritons 61
V. Disgrace 91
VI. Learning and Accomplishments 115
VII. Cutting the Knot 138
VIII. Unbending the Bow 159
IX. A Letter from Home 177
X. The Complete Letter-writer 195
XL A Day of Rest 207
chatter paoe
XII. Against Time 227
XIII. A Respite 248
XIV. Ax Error of Judgment . 261
XV. The Rubicon 277
XVI. Hard Pressed 206
XVII. A Perfidious Ally 322
XVIII. Run to Earth ... 345
XIX. The Reckoning 361
VICE VERSA.
CHAPTER I.
BLACK MONDAY.
"In England, where boys go to boarding schools, if the holi¬
day-, were not long there would be no opportunity for
cultivating the domestic affections."—Letter of Lord Camp¬
bell's, I S3 5.
Ox a certain Monday evening late in January,
1881 , Paul Bultitude, Esq. (of Mincing Lane,
Colonial Produce Merchant), was sitting alone
in his dining-room at Westbourne Terrace after
dinner.
The room was a long and lofty one, furnished
in the stern uncompromising style of the mahogany
age, now supplanted by the later fashions of de¬
coration which, in their outset original and artistic,
seem fairly on the way to become as meaningless
and conventional.
B
2
VICE VERSA.
Here were no skilfully contrasted shades of
grey or green, no dado, no distemper on the walls;
the woodwork was grained and varnished after
the manner of the Philistines, the walls papered
in dark crimson, with heavy curtains of the same
colour, and the sideboard, dinner-waggon, and row
of stiff chairs were all carved in the same massive
and expensive style of ugliness. The pictures
were those familiar presentments of dirty rabbis,
fat white horses, bloated goddesses, and mis-shapen
boors, by masters who, if younger than they as¬
sume to be, must have been quite old enough to
know better.
Mr. Bultitude was a tall and portly person,
of a somewhat pompous and overbearing demeanour;
not much over fifty, but looking considerably older.
He had a high shining head, from which the hair
had mostly departed, what little still remained
being of a grizzled auburn, prominent pale blue
eyes with heavy eyelids and fierce bushy whitey-
brown eyebrows. His general expression suggested
a conviction of his own extreme importance, but,
in spite of this, his big underlip drooped rather
weakly and his double chin slightly receded, giving
a judge of character reason for suspecting that a
certain obstinate positiveness observable in Mr.
Bultitude's manner might possibly be due less
to the possession of an unusually strong will than
to the circumstance that, by some fortunate chance,
that will had hitherto never met with serious op¬
position.
The room, with all its aesthetic shortcomings,
BLACK MONDAY.
3
was comfortable enough, and Mr. Bultitude's atti¬
tude—he was lying back in a well-wadded leather
arm-chair, with a glass of claret at his elbow and
his feet stretched out towards the ruddy blaze of
the fire—seemed at first sight to imply that happy
after-dinner condition of perfect satisfaction with
oneself and things in general, which is the natural
outcome of a good cook, a good conscience, and
a good digestion.
At first sight; because his face did not con¬
firm the impression—there was a latent uneasiness
in it, an air of suppressed irritation, as if he ex¬
pected and even dreaded to be disturbed at any
moment, and yet was powerless to resent the in¬
trusion as he would like to do.
At the slightest sound in the hall outside he
would half rise in his chair and glance at the
door with a mixture of alarm and resignation, and
as often as the steps died away and the door re¬
mained closed, he would sink back and resettle
himself with a shrug of evident relief.
Habitual novel readers on reading thus far
will, I am afraid, prepare themselves for the arrival
of a faithful cashier with news of irretrievable ruin,
or a mysterious and cynical stranger threatening
disclosures of a disgraceful nature.
But all such anticipations must at once be
ruthlessly dispelled. Mr. Bultitude, although he
was certainly a merchant, was a fairly successful
one—in direct defiance of the laws of fiction,
where any connection with commerce seems to
B*
4
VICE VERSA.
lead naturally to failure in one of the three
volumes.
He was an old gentleman, too, of irreproach¬
able character and antecedents.
No Damocles' sword of exposure was swinging
over his bald but blameless head; he had no dis¬
asters to fear and no indiscretions to conceal. He
had not been intended for melodrama, which, in¬
deed, he would not have considered a respectable
thing to be connected with.
In fact, the secret of his uneasiness was so
absurdly simple and commonplace that I am rather
ashamed to have made even a temporary mystery
of it.
His son Dick was about to return to school
that evening, and Mr. Bultitude was expecting
every moment to be called upon to go through a
parting scene with him; that was really all that
was troubling him.
This sounds very creditable to the tenderness
of his feelings as a father—for there are some
parents who bear such a bereavement at the close
of the holidays with extraordinary fortitude, if they
do not actually betray an unnatural satisfaction at
the event.
But it was not exactly from softness of heart
that he was restless and impatient, nor did he
dread any severe strain upon his emotions. He
was not much given to sentiment and was the
author of more than one of those pathetically
indignant letters to the papers, in which the
British parent denounces the expenses of education
BLACK MONDAY.
5
and the unconscionable length and frequency of
vacations.
He was one of those nervous fidgetty persons
who cannot understand their own children, looking
on them as objectionable monsters whose next
movements are uncertain—much as Frankenstein
must have felt towards his monster.
He hated to have a boy about the house,
and positively writhed under the irrelevant and
irrepressible questions, the unnecessary noises and
boisterous high spirits, which nothing would sub¬
due; his son's society was to him simply an
abominable nuisance, and he pined and yearned
for a release from it from the day the holidays
began.
He had been a widower for some years, and
no doubt the loss of a mother's loving tact, which
can check the heedless merriment before it becomes
intolerable, and interpret the most peevish and
unreasonable of rebukes, had done much to make
the relations between parent and children more
strained than they might otherwise have been.
As it was, Dick's fear of his father was just
great enough to prevent any cordiality between
them, and not sufficient to make him careful to
avoid offence, and it is not surprising if, when the
time came for him to return to his house of
bondage at Dr. Grimstone's, Crichton House,
Rodwell Regis, he left his father anything but in¬
consolable.
Just now, although Mr. Bultitude was so near
the hour of his deliverance, he still had a bad
6
VICE VERSA.
quarter of an hour before him, in which the last
farewells must be said, and he found it impossible
under these circumstances to compose himself for
a quiet half hour's nap, or retire to the billiard
room for a cup of coffee and and a mild cigar, as
he would otherwise have done—since he was
certain to be disturbed.
And there was another thing which harassed
him, and that was a hawiting dread lest at the
last moment some unforeseen accident should
prevent the boy's departure after all. He had
some grounds for this, for only a week before,
a sudden and unprecedented snowstorm had dashed
his hopes, on the eve of their fulfilment, by
forcing the doctor to postpone the day on which
his school was to reassemble, and now Paul sat on
brambles until he had seen the house definitely
rid of his son's presence.
All this time, while the father was fretting and
fuming in his arm-chair, the son, the unlucky cause
of all this discomfort, had been standing on the
mat outside the door, trying to screw up enough
courage to go in as if nothing was the matter
with him.
He was not looking particularly boisterous just
then. On the contrary, his face was pale, and his
eyelids rather redder than he would quite care for
them to be seen by any of the "fellows" at
Crichton House. All the life and spirit had gone
out of him for the time; he had a troublesome
dryness in his throat, and a general sensation of
chill heaviness, which he himself would have
BLACK MONDAY.
7
described—expressively enough, if not with
academical elegance—as "feeling beastly."
The stoutest hearted boy, returning to the
most perfect of schools, cannot always escape
something of this at that dark hour when the
sands of the holidays have run out to their last
golden grain, when the boxes are standing corded
and labelled in the passage, and some one is going
to fetch the fatal cab.
Dick had just gone the round of the house,
bidding dreary farewells to all the servants; an
unpleasant ordeal which he would gladly have
dispensed with, if possible, and which did not
serve to raise his spirits.
Upstairs, in the bright nursery, he had found
his old nurse sewing by the high wire fender.
She was a stern hard-featured old lady, who had
systematically slapped him through infancy into
boyhood, and he had had some stormy passages
with her during the past few weeks; but she
softened now in the most unexpected manner as
she said good-bye, and told him he v/as a
"pleasant, good-hearted young gentleman, after all,
though that aggravating and contrairy sometimes."
And then she predicted, with some of the rashness
attaching to irresponsibility, that he would be "the
best boy this next term as ever was, and work
hard at all his lessons, and bring home a
prize"—but all this unusual gentleness only made
the interview more difficult to come out of with
any credit for self-control.
Then downstairs, the cook had come up in
8
VICE VERSA.
her evening brown print and clean collar, from her
warm, spice scented kitchen to remark cheerily
that "Lor bless his heart, what with all these
telegrafts and things, time flew so fast now-a-days,
that they'd be having him back again before they
all knew where they were!"
And this had a certain spurious consolation
about it, until one saw that, after all, it put the
case entirely from her own standpoint.
After this Dick had parted from his elder
sister Barbara and his young brother Roly, and
had arrived where we found him first, at the mat
outside the dining-room door, where he still lingered
shivering in the cold foggy hall.
Somehow, he could not bring himself to take
the next step at once; he knew pretty well what
his father's feelings would be, and a parting is a
very unpleasant ceremony to one who feels that
the regret is all on his own side.
But it was no use putting it off any longer;
he resolved at last to go in and get it over, and
opened the door accordingly. How warm and
comfortable the room looked—more comfortable
than it had ever seemed to him before, even on
the first day of the holidays!
And his father would be sitting there in a
quarter of an hour's time, just as he was now,
while he himself would be lumbering along to the
station through the dismal raw fog!
How unspeakably delightful it must be, thought
Dick enviously, to be grown up and never worried
by the thoughts of school and lesson-books; to be
BLACK MONDAY.
9
able to look forward to returning to the same
comfortable house, and living the same easy life,
day after day, week after week, with no fear of a
swiftly advancing Black Monday.
Gloomy moralists might have informed him
that we cannot escape school by simply growing
up, and that, even for those who contrive this and
make a long holiday of their lives, there comes a
time when the days are grudgingly counted to a
blacker Monday than ever makes a schoolboy's
heart quake within him.
But then Dick would never have believed
them, and the moralists would only have wasted
much excellent common sense upon hirn.
Paul Bultitude's face cleared as he saw his
son come in. "There you are, eh?" he said, with
evident satisfaction, as he turned in his chair,
intending to cut the scene as short as possible.
"So you're off at last? Well, holidays can't last
for ever—by a merciful decree of Providence, they
don't last quite for ever! There, good-bye, good¬
bye, be a good boy this term, no more scrapes,
mind. And now you'd better run away, and put
on your coat—you're keeping the cab waiting all
this time."
"No, I'm not," said Dick, "Boaler hasn't gone
to fetch one yet."
"Not gone to fetch a cab yet!" cried Paul,
with evident alarm, "why, God bless my soul,
what's the man thinking about? You'll lose your
train! I know you'll lose the train, and there will
be another day lost, after the extra week gone
IO
VICE VERSA.
already through that snow! I must see to this
myself. Ring the bell, tell Boaler to start this
instant-—I insist on his fetching a cab this instant!"
"Well, it's not my fault, you know," grumbled
Dick, not considering so much anxiety at all flat¬
tering, "but Boaler has gone now. I just heard
the gate clang."
"Ah!" said his father, with more composure,
"and now," he suggested, "you'd better shake
hands, and then go up and say good-bye to >our
sister—you've no time to spare."
"I've said good-bye to them," said Dick.
"Mayn't I stay here till—till Boaler comes?"
This request was due, less to filial affection,
than a faint desire for dessert, which even his
feelings could not altogether stifle. Mr. Bultitude
granted it with a very bad grace.
"I suppose you can if you want to," he said
impatiently, "only do one thing or the other—stay
outside, or shut the door and come in and sit
down quietly. I cannot sit in a thorough draught!"
Dick obeyed, and applied himself to the des¬
sert with rather an injured expression.
Paul felt a greater sense of constraint and
worry than ever; the interview, as he had feared,
seemed likely to last some time, and he felt that
he ought to improve the occasion in some way,
or, at all events, make some observation. But,
for all that, he had not the remotest idea what to
say to this red-haired, solemn boy, who sat staring
gloomily at him in the intervals of filling his
BLACK MONDAY.
I I
mouth. The situation grew more embarrassing
every moment.
At last, as he felt himself likely to have
more to say in reproof than on any other subject,
he began with that.
"There's one thing I want to talk to you about
before you go," he began, "and that's this. I had
a most unsatisfactory report of you this last term;
don't let me have that again. Dr. Grimstone tells
me—ah, I have his letter here—yes, he says (and
just attend, instead of making yourself ill with
preserved ginger)—he says, 'Your son has great
natural capacity, and excellent abilities; but I
regret to say that, instead of applying himself as
he might do, he misuses his advantages, and suc¬
ceeds in setting a mischievous example to—if not
actually misleading — his companions ' That's a
pleasant account for a father to read! Here am
I, sending you to an expensive school, furnishing
you with great natural capacity and excellent
abilities, and—and—every other school requisite,
and all you do is to misuse them! It's disgraceful!
And misleading your companions, too! Why, at
your age, they ought to mislead you—No, I don't
mean that—but what I may tell you is that I've
written a very strong letter to Dr. Grimstone,
saying what pain it gave me to hear you mis¬
behaved yourself, and telling him, if he ever caught
you setting an example of any sort, mind that,
any sort, in the future—he was to, ah, to remember
some of Solomon's very sensible remarks on the
subject. So I should strongly advise you to take
12
VICE VERSA.
care what you're about in future, for your own
sake I"
This was not a very encouraging address,
perhaps, but it did not seem to distress Dick to
any extent; he had heard very much the same
sort of thing several times before, and had been
fully prepared for it then.
He had been seeking distraction in almonds
and raisins, but now they only choked instead
of consoling him, and he gave them up and sat
brooding silently over his hard lot instead, with
a dull, blank dejection which those only who have
gone through the same thing in their boyhood
will understand. To others, whose school life has
been one unchequered course of excitement and
success, it will be incomprehensible enough — and
so much the better for them.
He sat listening to the grim sphinx clock on
the black marble chimneypiece, as it remorselessly
ticked away his last few moments of home-life,
and he ingeniously set himself to crown his sorrow
by reviving recollections of happier days.
In one of the corners of the chimneyglass
there was still a sprig of withered laurel left for¬
gotten, and his eye fell on it now with a grim
satisfaction. He made his thoughts travel back to
that delightful afternoon on Christmas Eve, when
they had all come home riotous through the bril¬
liant streets, laden with purchases from the Baker
Street Bazaar, and then had decorated the rooms
with such free and careless gaiety.
And the Christmas dinner tool He had sat
BLACK MONDAY.
13
just where he was sitting now, with, ah, such a
difference in every other respect — the time had
not come then when the thought of "only so many
more weeks and days left" had begun to intrude
its grisly shape, like the skull at an ancient feast.
And yet he could distinctly recollect now,
and with bitter remorse, that he had not enjoyed
himself then as much as he ought to have done;
he even remembered an impious opinion of his
that the proceedings were "slow." Slow! with
plenty to eat, and three (four, if he had only
known it) more weeks of holiday before him; with
Boxing Day and the brisk exhilarating drive to
the Crystal Palace immediately following, with all
the rest of a season of licence and varied joys to
come, which he could hardly trust himself to look
back upon nowl He must have been mad to think
such a thing.
Overhead his sister Barbara was playing softly
one of the airs from "The Pirates" (it was Frede¬
ric's appeal to the Major General's daughters), and
the music, freed from the serio-comic situation
which it illustrates, had a tenderness and pathos
of its own which went to Dick's heart and inten¬
sified his melancholy.
He had gone (in secret, for Mr. Bultitude
disapproved of such dissipations) to hear the Opera
in the holidays, and now the piano conjured the
whole scene up for him again—there would be no
more theatre-going for him for a very long time!
By this time Mr. Bultitude began to feel the
silence becoming once more oppressive, and roused
14
VICE VERSA.
himself with a yawn. "Heighol" he said, "Boaler's
an uncommonly long time fetching that cab! "
Dick felt more injured than ever, and showed
it by drawing what he intended for a moving sigh.
Unfortunately it was misunderstood.
"I do wish, sir," said Paul testily, "you
would try to break yourself of that habit of
breathing hard. The society of a grampus (for
it's no less) delights no one and offends many—
including me—and for Heaven's sake, Dick, don't
kick the leg of the table in that way; you know
it simply maddens me. What do you do it for?
Why can't you learn to sit at table like a gentle¬
man ?"
Dick mumbled some apology, and then, having
found his tongue and remembered his necessities,
said, with a nervous catch in his voice, "Oh, I
say, papa, will you—can you let me have some
pocket-money, please, to go back with?"
Paul looked as if his son had petitioned for
a latchkey.
"Pocket-money I" he repeated, "why, you
can't want money. Didn't your grandmother give
you a sovereign as a Christmas-box? And I gave
you ten shillings myself!"
"I do want it, though," said Dick; "that's all
spent. And you know you always have given me
money to take back."
"If I do give you some, you'll only go and
spend it," grumbled Mr. Bultitude, as if he con¬
sidered money an object of art.
"I shan't spend it all at once, and I shall
BLACK MONDAY.
15
want some to put in the plate on Sundays. We
always have to put in the plate when it's a
collection. And there's the cab to pay."
"Boaler has orders to pay your cab—as you
know well enough," said Paul, "but I suppose
you must have some, though you cost me enough,
Heaven knows, without this additional expense."
And at this he brought up a fistful of loose
silver and gold from one of his trouser-pockets,
and spread it deliberately out on the table in
front of him in shining rows.
Dick's eyes sparkled at the sight of so much
wealth; for a moment or two he almost forgot
the pangs of approaching exile in the thought of
the dignity and credit which a single one of those
bright new sovereigns would procure for him.
I would ensure him surreptitious luxuries and
open friendships as long as it lasted. Even
Tipping, the head boy of the school, who had
gone into tails, brought back no more, and besides,
the money would bring him handsomely out of
certain pecuniary difficulties to which an unexpected
act of parental authority had exposed him; he
could easily dispose of all claims with such a sum
at command, and then his father could so easily
spare it out of so much!
Meanwhile Mr. Bultitude, with great care and
precision, selected from the coins before him a
florin, two shillings, and two sixpences, which he
pushed across to his son, who looked at them
with a disappointment he did not care to conceal.
"An uncommonly liberal allowance for a young
i6
VICK VERSA.
fellow like you," Paul observed. "Don't buy any
foolishness with it, and if, towards the end of the
term you want a little more, and write an in¬
telligible letter asking for it, and I think proper
to let you have it—why, you'll get it, you know."
Dick had not courage to ask for more, much
as he longed to do so, so he put the money in
his purse with very qualified expressions of gratitude.
In his purse he seemed to find something
which had escaped his memory, for he took out
a small parcel and unfolded it with some hesitation.
"I nearly forgot," he said, speaking with more
animation than he had yet done, "I didn't like to
take it without asking you, but is this any use?
May I have it?"
"Eh?" said Paul sharply, "what's that? Some¬
thing else—what is it you want now?"
"It's only that stone Uncle Duke brought
mamma from India; the thing, he said, they
called a 'Pagoda stone,' or something, out there."
"Pagoda stone? The boy means Garuda
stone. 1 should like to know how you got hold
of that; you've been meddling in my drawers,
now, a thing I will not put up with, as I've told
you over and over again."
"No, I haven't, then," said Dick, "I found it
in a tray in the drawing-room, and Barbara said,
perhaps, if I asked you, you might let me have
it, as she didn't think it was any use to you."
"Then Barbara had no right to say anything
of the sort," snapped Paul.
BLACK MONDAY.
1 7
"But may I have it? I may, mayn't I?"
persisted Dick.
"Have it? certainly not. What could you
possibly want with a thing like that? It's ridiculous.
Give it to me."
Dick handed it over reluctantly enough. It
was not much to look at, quite an insignificant
looking little square tablet of greyish-green stone,
pierced at one angle, and having on two of its
faces faint traces of mysterious letters or symbols,
which time had made very difficult to distinguish.
It looked harmless enough as Mr. Bultitude
took it in his hand; there was no kindly hand to
hold him back, no warning voice to hint that
there might possibly be sleeping within that small
marble block the pent-up energy of long-forgotten
Eastern necromancy, just as ready as ever to
awake into action at the first words which had
power to evoke it.
There was no one; but even if there had
been such a person, Paul was a sober, prosaic
individual, who would probably have treated the
warning as a piece of ridiculous superstition.
As it was, no man could have put himself
in a position of extreme peril with a more perfect
unconsciousness of his danger.
c
(8
vice versa.
CHAPTER II.
a GRAND TRANSFORMATION SCENE.
"Magnaque numinibus vota exaudita malignis."
Mr. Bultitude put on his glasses to examine the
stone more carefully, for it was some time since
he had last seen or thought about it. Then he
looked up and said once more, "What use would
a thing like this be to you?"
Dick would have considered it a very va¬
luable prize indeed; he could have exhibited it to
admiring friends—during lessons of course, when
it would prove a most agreeable distraction; he
could have played with and fingered it incessantly,
invented astonishing legends of its powers and
virtues; and, at last, when he had grown tired of
it, have bartered it for any more desirable article
that might take his fancy. All these advantages
were present to his mind in a vague shifting form,
but he could not find either courage or words to
explain them.
Consequently he only said awkwardly, "Oh,
I don't know, I should like it."
"Well, any way," said Paul, "you certainly
won't have it. It's worth keeping, whatever it is,
as the only thing your uncle Marmaduke was ever
known to give to anybody."
Marmaduke Paradine, Mr. Bultitude's brother-
A GRAND TRANSFORMATION SCENE. 19
in-law, was not a connection of which he had
much reason to feel particularly proud. One of
those persons endowed with what are known as
"insinuating manners and address," he had, after
some futile attempts to enter the army, been sent
out to Bombay as agent for a Manchester firm,
and in that capacity had contrived to be mixed
up in some more than shady transactions with
rival exporters and native dealers up the country,
which led to an unceremonious dismissal by his
employers.
He had brought home the stone from India
as a propitiatory token of remembrance, more
portable and less expensive than the lacquered
cabinets, brasses, stuffs and carved work which
are expected from friends at such a distance, and
he had been received with pardon and started
once more, until certain other proceedings of his,
shadier still, had obliged Paul to forbid him the
house at Westbourne Terrace.
Since then little had been heard of him, and
the reports which reached Mr. Bultitude of his
disreputable relative's connection with the pro¬
motion of a series of companies of the kind
affected by the widow and curate, and exposed
in money articles and law courts, gave him no
desire to renew his acquaintance.
"Isn't it a talisman, though?" said Dick, rather
unfortunately for any hopes he might have of
persuading his father to entrust him with the
coveted treasure.
L*
20
VICE VERS 4..
"I'm sure I can't tell you," yawned Paul,
"how do you mean?"
"I don't know, only Uncle Duke once said
something about it. Barbara heard him tell
mamma. I say perhaps it's like the one in Scott,
and cures people of things, though I don't think
it's that sort of talisman either, because I tried it
once on my chilblains, and it wasn't a bit of good.
If you would only let me have it, perhaps I might
find out, you know."
"You might," said his father drily, apparently
not much influenced by this inducement, "but
you won't have the chance. If it has a secret,
I will find it out for myself" (he little knew how
literally he was to be taken at his word), "and,
by the way, there's your cab—at lastl"
There was a sound of wheels outside, and,
as Dick heard them, he grew desperate in his
extremity; a wish he had long secretly cherished
unspoken, without ever hoping for courage to give
it words, rose to his lips now; he got up and
moved timidly towards his father.
"Papa," he said, "there's something 1 want to
say to you so much before I go. Do let me ask
you now."
"Well, what is it?" said Paul. "Make haste,
you haven't much time."
"It's this. I want you to—to let me leave
Grimstone's at the end of the term."
Paul stared at him, angry and incredulous.
"Let you leave Dr. Grimstone's f oblige me b"
giving him his full title when you speak of him),"
A GP AND TRANSFORMATION SCENE. 21
he said slowly. "Why, what do you mean? It's
an excellent school—never saw a better expressed
prospectus in my life. And my old friend Bangle,
Sir Benjamin Bangle, who's a member of the
School Board, and ought to know something about
schools, strongly recommended it—would have
sent his own son there, if he hadn't entered him
at Eton. And when I pay for most of the extras
for you too. Dancing, by Gad, and meat for
breakfast. I'm sure I don't know what you would
have!"
"I'd like to go to Marlborough, or Harrow,
or somewhere," whimpered Dick, "Jolland's going
to Harrow at Easter. (Jolland's one of the fellows
at Grimstone's—Dr. Grimstone's, I mean.) And
what does old Bangle know about it? He hasn't
got to go there himself! And—and Grimstone's
jolly enough to fellows he likes, but he doesn't
like me—he's always sitting on me for something
-—and I hate some of the fellows there, and alto¬
gether it's beastly. Do let me leave! If you don't
want me to go to a public school, I—I could
stop at home and have a private tutor—like Joe
Twitterley!"
"It's all ridiculous nonsense, I tell you," said
Paul angrily, "ridiculous nonsense! And, once for
all, I'll put a stop to it. I don't approve of
public schools for boys like you, and, what's
more, I can't afford it. As for private tutors,
that's absurd! So you will just make up your
mind to stay at Crichton House as long as I
22
VICE VERSA.
think proper to keep you there, and there's end
of that 1"
At this final blow to all his hopes, Dick
began to sob in a subdued hopeless kind of way,
which was more than his father could bear. To
do Paul justice, he had not meant to be quite so
harsh when the boy was about to set out for
school, and, a little ashamed of his irritation, he
sought to justify his decision.
He chose to do this by delivering a short
homily on the advantages of school, by which he
might lead Dick to look on the matter in the
calm light of reason and common sense, and
commonplaces on the subject began to rise to the
surface of his mind, from the rather muddy depths
to which they had long since sunk.
He began to give Dick the benefit of all this
stagnant wisdom, with a feeling of surprise, as he
went on, at his own powerful and original way
of putting things.
"Now, you know, it's no use to cry like that,"
he began. "It's—ah, the usual thing for boys at
school, I'm quite aware, to go about fancying
they're very ill-used, and miserable, and all the
rest of it, just as if people in my position had
their sons educated out of spite! It's one of
those petty troubles all boys have to go through.
And you mark my words, my boy, when they
go out into the world, and have real trials to put
up with, and grow old men, like me, why, they
see what fools they've been, Dick; they see what
fools they've been. All the — hum, the innocent
A GRAND TRANSFORMATION SCENE. 23
games and delights of boyhood, and that sort of
thing, you know—come back to them—and then
they look back to those hours passed at school
as the happiest, aye, the very happiest of their life 1"
"Well," said Dick, "then I hope it won't be
the happiest time in mine, that's all! And you
may have been happy at the school you went to,
perhaps, but I don't believe you would very much
care about being a boy again like me, and going
back to Grimstone's, you know you wouldn't 1"
This put Paul on his mettle; he had warmed
well to his subject, and could not let this open
challenge pass unnoticed — it gave him such an
opening for a cheap and easy effect.
He sank back into his chair and put the tips
of his fingers together, smiling with a tolerant
superiority.
"Perhaps you will believe me," he said im¬
pressively, "when I tell you, old as I am and
much as you envy me, I only wish, at this very
moment, I could be a boy again, like you. Going
back to school wouldn't make me unhappy, I can
tell you."
It is so fatally easy to say more than we
mean in the desire to make as strong an impres¬
sion as possible. Well for most of us that—more
fortunate than Mr. Bultitude—we can generally do
so without fear of being taken too strictly at our
word.
As he spoke these unlucky words, he felt a
slight shiver, followed by a curious shrinking sen¬
sation all over him. It was odd, too, but the
24
VICE VERSA.
arm-chair in which he sat seemed to have grown
so much bigger all at once. lie felt a passing
surprise, but concluded it must be fancy, and went
on as comfortably as before.
"I should like it, my boy, but what's the
good of wishing? I only mention it to prove
that I was not speaking at random. I'm an old
man and you're a young boy, and that being so,
why, of course— What the dooce are you gig¬
gling about?"
For Dick, after some seconds of half-frightened
open-mouthed staring, had suddenly burst into a
violent fit of almost hysterical giggling, which he
seemed trying vainly to suppress.
This naturally annoyed Mr. Bultitude, and he
went on with immense dignity, "I, ah, I'm not
aware that I've been saying anything particularly
ridiculous. You seem to be amused?"
"Don't!" gasped Dick, "It, it isn't anything
you're saying — it's, it's — oh, can't you feel any
difference ?"
"The sooner you go back to school the
better!" said Paul angrily. "I wash my hands of
you. When I do take the trouble to give you
any advice, it's received with ridicule. You always
were an ill-mannered little cub. I've had quite
enough of this. Leave the room, sir!"
The wheels must have belonged to some other
cab, for none had stopped at the pavement as
yet; but Mr. Bultitude was justly indignant and
could stand the interview no longer. Dick, how¬
ever, made no attempt to move; he remained
A GRAND TRANSFORMATION SCENE. 25
there, choking and shaking with laughter, while
his father sat stiffly on his chair, trying to ignore
his son's unmannerly conduct, but only partially
succeeding.
No one can calmly endure watching other
people laughing at him like idiots, while he is left
perfectly incapable of guessing what he has said
or done to amuse them. Even when this is known,
it requires a peculiarly keen sense of humour to
see the point of a joke against oneself.
At last his patience gave out, and he said
coldly, "Now, perhaps, if you are quite yourself
again, you will be good enough to let me know
what the joke is?"
Dick, looking flushed and half-ashamed, tried
again and again to speak, but each time the at¬
tempt was too much for him. After a time he
did succeed, but his voice was hoarse and shaken
with laughter as he spoke. "Haven't you found
it out yet? Go and look at yourself in the glass
—it will make you roarl"
There was the usual narrow sheet of plate
glass at the back of the sideboard, and to this
Mr. Bultitude walked, almost under protest, and
with a cold dignity. It occurred to him that he
might have a smudge on his face or something
wrong with his collar and tie—something to account
to some extent for his son's frivolous and insult¬
ing behaviour. No suspicion of the terrible truth
crossed his mind as yet.
Meanwhile Dick was looking on eagerly with
26
VICE VERSA.
a chuckle of anticipation, as one who watches the
dawning appreciation of an excellent joke.
But no sooner had Paul met the reflection
in the glass than he started back in incredulous
horror—then returned and stared again and again.
Surely, surely, this could not be he!
He had expected to see his own familiar
portly bow-windowed presence there—but somehow,
look as he would, the mirror insisted upon reflect¬
ing the figure of his son Dick. Could he pos¬
sibly have become invisible and have lost the
power of casting a reflection—or how was it that
Dick, and only Dick, was to be seen there?
How was it, too, when he looked round, there
was the boy still sitting there. It could not be
Dick, evidently, that he saw in the glass. Besides,
the reflection opposite him moved when he
moved, returned when he returned, copied his
every gesture!
He turned round upon his son with angry
and yet hopeful suspicion. "You, you've been
playing some of your infernal tricks with this
mirror, sir." he cried fiercely. "What have you
done to it?"
"Done! how could I do anything to it? As
if you didn't know that!"
"Then," stammered Paul, determined to know
the worst, "then do you, do you mean to tell me
you can see any—alteration in me? Tell me the
truth now!"
"I should just think I could!" said Dick
emphatically. "It's very queer, but just look
A GRAND TRANSFORMATION SCENE. 27
here," and he came up to the sideboard and
placed himself by the side of his horrified father.
"Why," he said, with another giggle, "we're—he-
he—as like as two peas!"
They were indeed; the glass reflected now
two small boys, each with chubby cheeks and
fair hair, both dressed, too, exactly alike, in Eton
jackets and broad white collars; the only difference
to be seen between them was that, while one
face wore an expression of intense glee and
satisfaction, the other—the one which Mr. Bultitude
was beginning to fear must belong to him—was
lengthened and drawn with dismay and bewilder¬
ment.
"Dick," said Paul faintly, "what is all this?
Who has been, been taking these liberties with me?"
"I'm sure I don't know," protested Dick. "It
wasn't me. I believe you did it all yourself."
"Did it all myself!" repeated Paul indignantly.
"Is it likely I should? It's some trickery, I tell
you, some villanous plot. The worst of it is,"
he added plaintively, "I don't understand who I'm
supposed to be now. Dick, who am I?"
"You can't be me," said Dick authoritatively,
"because here I am, you know. And you're not
yourself, that's very plain. You must be somebody,
I suppose," he added dubiously.
"Of course I am. What do you mean?" said
Paul angrily. "Never mind who I am. I feel
just the same as I always did. Tell me when
you first began to notice any change. Could you
see it coming on at all, eh?"
28
VICE VERSA.
"It was all at once, just as you were talking
about school and all that. You said you only
wished—— Why of course; look here, it must be
the stone that did it 1"
"Stone! what stone?" said Paul. "I don't
know what you're talking about."
"Yes, you do—the Garuda stone! You've
got it in your hand still. Don't you see? It's a
real talisman after all 1 How jolly!"
"I didn't do anything to set it off; and
besides, oh, it's perfectly absurd! How can there
be such things as talismans now-a-days, eh? Tell
me that '
"Well, something's happened to you, hasn't
it? And it must have been done somehow,"
argued Dick.
"I was holding the confounded thing, certainly,"
said Paul, "here it is. But what could I have
said to start it? What has it done this to me
for ?"
"I know!" cried Dick. "Don't you remember?
You said you wished you were a boy again, like
me. So you are, you see, exactly like me! What
a lark it is, isn't it? But, I say, you can't go up
to business like that, you know, can you? I tell
you what, you'd better come to Grimstone's with
me now, and see how you like it. I shouldn't
mind so much if you came too. Grimstone's face
would be splendid when he saw two of us. Do
come!"
"That's ridiculous nonsense you're talking,"
said Paul, "and you know it. What shou'd I do
A GRAND TRANSFORMATION SCENE. 29
at school at my age? I tell you I'm the same
as ever inside, though I may have shrunk into a
miserable little rascally boy to look at. And it's
simply an abominable nuisance, Dick, that's what
it is! Why on earth couldn't you let the stone
alone? Just see what mischief you've done by
meddling now—put me to all this inconveniencei"
"You shouldn't have wished," said Dick.
"Wished 1" echoed Mr. Bultitude. "Why, to
be sure," he said, with a gleam of returning
hopefulness, "of course, I never thought of that.
The thing's a wishing stone; it must be I You
have to hold it, I suppose, and then say what
you wish aloud, and there you are. If that's the
case, I can soon put it all right by simply wishing
myself back again. I, I shall have a good laugh
at all this by-and-by—I know I shall!"
Me took the stone, and got into a corner by
himself, where he began repeating the words, "I
wish I was back again," "I wish I was the man
I was five minutes ago," "I wish all this had not
happened," and so on, until he was very exhausted
and red in the face. He tried with the stone held
in his left hand, as well as his right, sitting and
standing, under all the various conditions he could
think of, but absolutely nothing came of it; he
was just as exasperatingly boyish and youthful as
ever at the end of it.
"I don't like this," he said at last, giving it
up with a rather crestfallen air. "It seems to me
that this diabolical invention has got out of order
somehow; I can't make it work any more!"
3°
VICE VERSA.
"Perhaps," suggested Dick, who had shown
throughout the most unsympathetic cheerfulness,
"perhaps it's one of those talismans that only-
give you one wish, and you've had it, you know?"
"Then it's all over!" groaned Paul. "What
the dooce am I to do? What shall I do? Suggest
something, for Heaven's sake; don't stand cackling
there in that unfeeling manner. Can't you see
what a terrible mess I've got into? Suppose—
only suppose your sister or one of the servants
were to come in, and see me like this!"
This suggestion simply enchanted Dick. "Let's
have 'em all up," he laughed; "it would be such
fun! How they will laugh when we tell them!"
And he rushed to the bell.
"Touch that bell if you dare!" screamed
Paul. "I won't be seen in this condition by any¬
body! What on earth could have induced that
scoundrelly uncle of yours to bring such a horrible
thing as this over I can't imagine! I never heard
of such a situation as this in my life. I can't stay
like this, you know—it's not to be thought of!
I—I wonder whether it would be any use to send
over to Dr. Bustard and ask him to step in; he
might give me something to bring me round.
But then the whole neighbourhood would hear
about it! If I don't see my way out of this soon,
I shall go raving mad!"
And he paced restlessly up and down the
room with his brain on fire.
All at once, as he became able to think more
coherently, there occurred to him a chance, slender
A GRAND TRANSFORMATION SCENE. 31
and desperate enough, but still a chance, of es¬
caping even yet the consequences of his folly.
He was forced to conclude that, however
improbable and fantastic it might appear in this
rationalistic age, there must be some hidden power
in this Garuda stone which had put him in his
present very unpleasant position. It was plain too
that the virtues of the talisman refused to exert
themselves any more at his bidding.
But it did not follow that in another's hands
the spell would remain as powerless, At all
events, it was an experiment well worth the trial,
and he lost no time in explaining the notion to
Dick, who, by the sparkle in his eyes and sup¬
pressed excitement in his manner, seemed to think-
there might be something in it.
"I may as well try," he said, "give it to me."
"Take it, my dear boy," said Paul, with a
paternal air that sorely tried Dick's recovered
gravity, it contrasted so absurdly with his altered
appearance. "Take it, and wish your poor old
father himself again!"
Dick took it, and held it thoughtfully for
some moments, while Paul waited in nervous im¬
patience. "Isn't it any use?" he said dolefully at
last, as nothing happened.
"I don't know," said Dick calmly, "I haven't
wished yet."
"Then do so at once," said Paul fussily, "do
so at once. There's no time to waste, every mo¬
ment is of importance—your cab will be here
directly. Although, although I'm altered in this
32
VICE VERSA.
ridiculous way, I hope I still retain my authority
as a father, and as a father, by Gad, I expect
you to obey me, sir!"
"Oh, all right," said Dick indifferently, "you
may keep the authority if you like."
"Then do what I tell you. Can't you see
how urgent it is that a scandal like this shouldn't
get about? I should be the laughing-stock of the
city. Not a soul must ever guess that such a
thing has happened. You must see that yourself."
"Yes," said Dick, who all this time was
sitting on a corner of the table, swinging his legs,
"I see that. It will be all right. I'm going to
wish in a minute, and no one will guess there
has been anything the matter."
"That's a good boy!" said Paul, much re¬
lieved, "I know your heart is in the right place
—only do make haste."
"I suppose," Dick asked, "when you are
yourself again, things would go on just as usual?"
"I—I hope so."
"I mean you will go on sitting here, and I
shall go off to Grimstone's?"
"Of course, of course," said Paul; "don't ask
so many questions. I'm sure you quite understand
what has to be done, so get on. We might be
found like this any minute."
"That settles it," said Dick, "any fellow
would do it after that."
"Yes, yes, but you're so slow about it!"
"Don't be in a hurry," said Dick, "you
mayn't like it after all when I've done it."
A GRAND TRANSFORMATION SCENE. 33
"Done what?" asked Mr. Bultitude sharply,
struck by something sinister and peculiar in the
boy's manner.
"Well, I don't mind telling you," said Dick,
"it's fairer. You see, you wished to be a boy
just like me, didn't you?"
"I didn't mean it," protested Paul
"Ah, you couldn't expect a stone to know
that; at any rate, it made you into a boy like
me directly. Now, if I wish myself a man just
like you were ten minutes ago, before you took
the stone, that will put things all right again,
won't it?"
"Is the boy mad?" cried Paul, horrified at
this proposal. "Why, why, that would be worse
than ever!"
"I don't see that," objected Dick, stubbornly.
"No one would know anything about it then."
"But, you little blockhead, can't I make you
understand? It wouldn't do at all. We should
both of us be wrong then—each with the other's
personal appearance."
"Well," said Dick blandly, "I shouldn't mind
that."
"But I should —I mind very much. I object
strongly to such a—such a preposterous arrange¬
ment. And what's more, I won't have it. Do
you hear, I forbid you to think of any such thing.
Give me back that stone. I can't trust you with
it after this."
"I can't help it," said Dick doggedly. "You've
D
34
VICE VERSA.
had your wish, and I don't see why I shouldn't
have mine. I mean to have it, too."
"Why, you unnatural little rascal!" cried the
justly-enraged father, "do you mean to defy me?
I tell you I will have that stone! Give it up this
instant 1" and he made a movement towards his
son, as if he meant to recover the talisman by
main force.
But Dick was too quick for him. Slipping
off the table with great agility, he planted him¬
self firmly on the hearth-rug, with the hand that
held the stone clenched behind his back, and the
other raised in self-defence.
"I'd much rather you wouldn't make me hit
you, you know," he said, "because, in spite of
what's happened, you're still my father, I suppose.
But if you interfere with me before I've done
with this stone, I'm afraid I shall have to punch
your head."
Mr. Bultitude retreated a few steps appre¬
hensively, feeling himself no match for his son,
except in size and general appearance; and for
some moments of really frightful intensity they
stood panting on the hearth-rug, each cautiously
watching the other, on his guard against stratagem
and surprise.
It was one of those painful domestic scenes
which are fortunately rare between father and son.
Overhead, the latest rollicking French polka
was being rattled out, with a savage irony of
which pianos, even by the best makers, can at
times be capable.
A GRAND TRANSFORMATION SCENE. 35
Suddenly Dick drew himself up. "Stand out
of my way!" he cried excitedly, "I am going to
do it. I wish I was a man like you were just
In
And as he spoke, Mr. Bultitude had the bit¬
terness of seeing his unscrupulous son swell out
like the frog in the fable, till he stood there be¬
fore him the exact duplicate of what Paul had so
lately been!
The transformed Dick began to skip and
dance round the room in high glee, with as much
agility as his increased bulk would allow. "It's
all right, you see," he said. "The old stone's as
good as ever. You can't say anyone would ever
know, to look at us."
And then he threw himself panting into a
chair, and began to laugh excitedly at the success
of his unprincipled manoeuvre.
As for Paul, he was perfectly furious at hav-
ving been so outwitted and overreached. It was
a long time before he could command his voice
sufficiently to say, savagely: "Well, you've had
your way, and a pretty mess you've made of it.
We're both of us in false positions now. I hope
you're satisfied, I'm sure. Do you think you'll
care about going back to Crichton House in that
state?"
"No," said Dick, very decidedly: "I'm quite
sure I shouldn't."
"Well, I can't help it. You've brought it on
yourself; and, provided the Doctor sees no objec¬
tion to take you back as you are and receive you
D*
36
VICE VERSA.
as one of his pupils, I shall most certainly send
you there."
Paul did not really mean this, he only meant
to frighten him; for he still trusted that, by let¬
ting Boaler into the secret, the charm might be
set in motion once more, and the difficulty com¬
fortably overcome. But his threat had a most
unfortunate effect upon Dick; it hardened him
to take a course he might otherwise have shrunk
from.
"Oh," he said, "you're going to do that?
But doesn't it strike you that things are rather
altered with us now?"
"They are, to a certain extent, of course,"
said Paul, "through my folly and your wicked
cunning; but a word or two of explanation from
me "
"You'll find it will take more explanation than
you think," said Dick; "but, of course, you can
try, if you think it worth while—when you get to
Grimstone's."
"When I,— I don't understand. When I,—
What did you say?" gasped Paul.
"Why, you see," exclaimed Dick, "it would
never have done for us both to go back; the
chaps would have humbugged us so, and as I
hate the place, and you seem so fond of being a
boy and going back to school and that, I thought
perhaps it would be best for you to go and see
how you liked it!"
"I never will! I'll not stir from this room!
I dare you to try to move me!" cried Paul. And
A GRAND TRANSFORMATION SCENE. 37
just then there was the sound of wheels outside
once more. They stopped before the house, the
bell rang sharply—the long-expected cab had come
at last.
"You've no time to lose," said Dick, "get
your coat on."
Mr. Bultitude tried to treat the affair as a joke.
He laughed a ghastly little laugh.
"Ha! ha! you've fairly caught your poor old
father this time; you've proved him in the wrong.
I admit I said more than I exactly meant. But
that's enough. Don't drive a good joke too far;
shake hands, and let us see if we can't find a way
out of thisl"
But Dick only warmed his coat tails at the
fire as he said, with a very ungenerous reminis¬
cence of his father's manner: "You are going
back to an excellent establishment, where you will
enjoy all the comforts of home—I can particularly
recommend the stickjaw; look out for it on Tues¬
days and Fridays. You will once more take part
in the games and lessons of happy boyhood.
(Did you ever play 'chevy' when you were a boy
before? You'll enjoy chevy.) And you will find
your companions easy enough to get on with,
if you don't go giving yourself airs; they won't
stand airs. Now good-bye, my boy, and bless
you!"
Paul stood staring stupidly at this outrageous
assumption; he could scarcely believe even yet
that it was meant in cruel earnest. Before he
38
VICE VERSA.
could answer, the door opened and Boaler ap¬
peared.
"Had a deal of trouble to find a keb, sir, on
a night like this," he said to the false Dick, "but
the luggage is all on top, and the man says there's
plenty of time still."
"Good-bye then, my boy," said Dick, with
well-assumed tenderness, but a rather dangerous
light in his eye. "Remember, I expect you to
work."
Paul turned indignantly from him to the butler;
he, at least, would stand by him. Boaler would
not see a master who had always been fair, if not
indulgent, to him driven from his home in this
cold-blooded manner 1
He made two or three attempts to speak, for
his brain whirled so with scathing, burning things
to say. He would expose the fraud then and
there, and defy the impudent usurper; he would
warn every one against this spurious pinchbeck
imitation of himself. The whole household should
be summoned and called upon to judge between
the twol
No doubt, if he had had enough self-command
to do all this effectually, while Dick had as yet not
had the time to thoroughly adapt himself to his
altered circumstances, he might have turned the
situation at the outset, and spared himself some
very painful experiences.
But it is very often precisely those words
which are the most vitally important to be said
that refuse to pass our lips on a sudden emergency.
IN THE TOILS.
39
We feel all the necessity of saying something at
once, but the necessary words unaccountably de¬
sert us at the critical moment.
Mr. Bultitude felt himself in this unfortunate
position. He made more wild efforts to explain,
but the sense of his danger only petrified his mind
instead of stimulating it. Then he was spared
further conflict. A dark mist rose before his eyes;
the walls of the room receded into infinite space;
and, with a loud singing in his ears, he fell, and
seemed to himself to be sinking down, down
through the earth to the very crust of the anti¬
podes. Then the blackness closed over him—and
he knew no more.
CHAPTER III.
IN THE TOILS.
"I beseech you let his lack of years be no impediment to let
him lack a reverend estimation, for I never knew so young
a body with so old a head."—Merchant of Venice, Act iv.
WHEN Mr. Bultitude recovered his senses, which
was not for a considerable time, he found that he
was being jolted along through a broad well-lit
thoroughfare, in a musty four-wheeler.
His head was by no means clear yet, and for
some minutes he could hardly be said to think at
all; he merely lay back dreamily listening to the
4°
VICE VERSA.
hard grinding jar of the cab windows vibrating in
their grooves.
His first distinct sensation was a vague wonder
what Barbara might be intending to give him for
dinner, for, oddly enough, he felt far from hungry,
and was conscious that his palate would require
the adroitest witching.
With the thought of dinner his dining-room
was almost inseparably associated, and then, with
an instant rush of recollection, the whole scene
there with the Garuda Stone surged into his brain.
He shuddered as he did so; it had all been so
real, so hideously vivid and coherent throughout.
But all unpleasant impressions soon yielded to the
delicious luxury of his present security.
As his last conscious moment had been passed
in his own dining-room, the fact that he opened
his eyes in a cab, instead of confirming his worst
fears, actually helped to restore the unfortunate
old gentleman's serenity; for he frequently drove
home from the city in this manner, and believed
himself now, instead of being, as was actually the
case, in that marvellous region of cheap photo¬
graphy, rocking-horses, mild stone lions, and wheels
and ladders—the Euston road, to be bowling along
Holborn.
Now that he was thoroughly awake he found
positive amusement in going over each successive
incident of his night-mare experience with the
talisman, and smiling at the tricks his imagination
had played him.
"I wonder now how the dickens I came to
IN THE TOILS.
41
dream such outrageous nonsense 1" he said to
himself, for even his dreams were, as a rule,
within the bounds of probability. But he was not
long in tracing it to the devilled kidneys he had
had at the club for Lunch, and some curious old
brown sherry Robinson had given him afterwards
at his office.
"Gad, what a shock the thing has given
me!" he thought. "I can hardly shake off the
feeling even now."
As a rule, after waking up on the verge of
a fearful crisis, the effect of the horror fades
swiftly away, as one detail after another evades a
memory which is never too anxious to retain
them, and each moment brings a deeper sense of
relief and self-congratulation.
But in Paul's case, curiously enough, as he
could not help thinking, the more completely
roused he became, the greater grew his uneasiness.
Perhaps the first indication of the truth was "
suggested to him by a lurking suspicion—which
he tried to dismiss as mere fancy—that he filled
rather less of the cab than he had always been
accustomed to do.
To reassure himself he set his thoughts to
review all the proceedings of that day, feeling that
if he could satisfactorily account for the time up
to his taking the cab, that would be conclusive as
to the unreality of anything that appeared to
have happened later in his own house. He got
on well enough till he came to the hour at which
he had left the office, and then search his memory
4?
VICE VERSA.
as he would, he could not remember hailing
any cab!
Could it be another delusion, too, or was it
the fact that he had found himself much pressed for
time and had come by the Underground to Praed
Street? It must have been the day before, but that
was Sunday. Saturday, then? IJut the recollection
seemed too recent and fresh; and besides on
Saturday, he had left at two, and had taken
Barbara to see Messrs. Maskelyne and Cooke's
performance.
Slowly, insidiously, but with irresistible force,
the conviction crept upon him that he had dined,
and dined well.
"If I have dined already," he told himself,
"I can't be going home to dinner; and if I am
not going home to dinner, what—what am I
doing in this cab?"
The bare idea that something might be wrong
with him after all made him impatient to put an
end to all suspense. He must knock this scotched
nightmare once for all on the head by a deliberate
appeal to his senses.
The cab had passed the lighted shops now,
and was driving between squares and private houses,
so that Mr. Bultitude had to wait until the sickly
rays of a street lamp glanced into the cab for a
moment, and, as they did so, he put his feet up
on the opposite seat and examined his boots and
trousers with breathless eagerness.
It was not to be denied; they were not his
ordinary boots, nor did he ever wear such trousers
IN THE TOILS.
43
as he saw above them I Always a careful and
punctiliously neat old gentleman, he was more
than commonly exacting concerning the make and
polish of his boots and the set of his trousers.
These boots were clumsy, square-toed, and
thick-soled; one was even patched on the side.
The trousers were heavy and rough, of the kind
advertised as "wear-resisting fabrics, suitable for
youths at school," frayed at the ends, and
shiny—shamefully shiny—about the knees!
In hot despair he rapidly passed his hands
over his person. It felt unusually small and slim,
Mr. Bultitude being endowed with what is
euphemistically termed a "presence," and it was
with an agony rarely felt at such a discovery that
he realised that, for the first time for more than
twenty years, he actually had a waist.
Then, as a last resource, he took off his hat
and felt for the broad, smooth, egg-like surface,
garnished by scanty side patches of thin hair,
which he knew he ought to find.
It was gone — hidden under a crop of thick
close-curling locks 1
This last disappointment completely overcame
him; he had a kind of short fit in the cab
as the bitter truth was brought home to him
unmistakably.
Yes, this was no dream of a distempered
digestion, but sober reality. The whole of that
horrible scene in the dining-room had really taken
place; and now he, Paul Bultitude, the widely-
respected merchant of Mincing Lane, a man of
44
VICE VERSA.
means and position, was being ignominiously packed
off to school as if he were actually the schoolboy
some hideous juggle had made him appear!
It was only with a violent effort that he
could succeed in commanding his thoughts suffi¬
ciently to decide on some immediate action. "I
must be cool," he kept muttering to himself, with
shaking lips, "quite cool and collected. Everything
will depend on that now!"
It was some comfort to him in this extremity
to recognise on the box the well-known broad back
of Clegg, a cabman who stabled his two horses
in some mews near Praed Street, and whom he
had been accustomed to patronise in bad weather
for several years.
Clegg would know him, in spite of his ridi¬
culous transformation.
His idea was to stop the cab, and turn round
and drive home again, when they would find that
he was not to be got rid of again quite so easily.
If Dick imagined he meant to put up tamely with
this kind of treatment, he was vastly mistaken;
he would return home boldly and claim his rights.
No reasonable person could be perverse enough
to doubt his identity when once matters came to
the proof; though at first, of course, he might find
a difficulty in establishing it. His children, his
clerks, and his servants would soon get used to
his appearance, and would learn to look below the
mere surface, and then there was always the pos¬
sibility of putting everything right by means of
the magic stone.
IN THE TOILS.
45
"I won't lose a minute!" he said aloud; and
etting down the window, leaned out and shouted
Stop!" till he was hoarse.
But Clegg either could not or would not
lear; he drove on at full speed, a faster rate of
>rogress than that adopted by most drivers of
our-wheeled cabs being one of his chief recom-
nendations.
They were now passing Euston. It was a
nuggy, slushy night, with a thin brown fog
rreathing the houses, and fading away above their
ops into a dull, slate-blue sky. The wet street
ooked like a black canal; the blurred forms, less
ike vehicles than nondescript boats, moving over
ts inky surface, were indistinctly reflected therein;
he gas-lights flared redly through the murky haze,
t was not a pleasant evening in which to be out
)f doors.
Paul would have opened the cab-door and
umped out had he dared, but his nerve failed
lim, and indeed, considering the speed of the
:ab, the leap would have been dangerous to a far
nore active individual. So he was forced to
vait resignedly until the station should be reached,
vhen he determined to make Clegg understand
lis purpose with as little loss of time as possible.
"I must pay him something extra," he thought;
I'll give him a sovereign to take me back." And
le searched his pockets for the loose coin he
isually caried about with him in such abundance;
here was no gold in any of them.
He found, however, a variety of minor and
40
VICE VERSA.
less negotiable articles, which he fished out one
by one from unknown depths—a curious collection.
There was a stumpy German-silver pencil case, a
broken prism from a crystal chandelier, a gilded
Jew's harp, a little book in which the leaves, on
being turned briskly, gave a semblance of motion
to the sails of a black windmill drawn therein, a
broken tin soldier, some Hong-Kong coppers with
holes in them, and a quantity of little cogged wheels
from the inside of a watch; while a further search
was rewarded by an irregular lump of toffee im¬
perfectly enfolded in sticky brown paper.
He threw the whole of these treasures out of
the window with indescribable disgust, and, feeling
something like a purse in a side pocket, opened
it eagerly.
It held five shillings exactly, the coins corre¬
sponding to those he had pushed across to his
son such a little while ago! It did not seem to
him quite such a magnificent sum now as it had
done then; he had shifted his point of view.
It was too clear that the stone must have
carried out his thoughtless wish with scrupulous
and conscientious exactness in every detail. He
had wanted, or said he wanted, to be a boy again
like Dick, and accordingly he had become a per¬
fect duplicate, even to the contents of the pockets.
Evidently nothing on the face of things showed
the slightest difference. Yet — and here lay the
sting of the metamorphosis— he was conscious
under it all of being his old original self, in utter
IN THE TOILS.
47
discordance with the youthful form in which he
was an unwilling prisoner.
By this time the cab had driven up the sharp
incline, and under the high pointed archway of
St. Pancras terminus, and now drew up with a
jerk against the steps leading to the booking
office.
Paul sprang out at once in a violent passion.'
•"Here, you Cleggl" he said, "why the devil didn't
you pull up when I told you, eh?"
Clegg was a burly, red-faced man, with a
husky voice and a general manner which conveyed
the impression that he regarded teetotalism, as a
principle, with something more than disapproval.
"Why didn't I pull up?" he said, bending
stiffly down from his box. "'Cause I didn't want
to lose a good customer, that's why I didn't
pull up!"
"Do you mean to say you don't know me?"
"Know yer?" said Clegg, with an approach
to sentiment: "I've knowed yer when you was a
babby in frocks. I've knowed yer fust nuss (and
a fine young woman she were till she took to
drinking, as has been the ruin of many). I've
knowed yer in Infancy's hour and in yer byhood's
bloom! I've druv yer to this 'ere werry station
twice afore. Know yer!"
Paul saw the uselessness of arguing with him.
"Then, ah—drive me back at once. Let those
boxes alone. I—I've important business at home
which I'd forgotten."
Clegg gave a vinous wink. "Lor, yer at it
48
VICE VERSA.
agin," he said with admiration. "What a artful
young gent it is! But it aint what yer may call
good enough, so to speak, it aint. Clegg don't
do that no more!"
"Don't do what?" asked Paul.
"Don't drive no young gents as is a bein'
§ent to school back agin into their family's bosims,"
said Clegg sententiously. "You was took ill
sudden in my cab the last time. Offal bad you
was, to be sure to hear ye, and I druv' yer back;
and I never got no return fare, I didn't, and yer
par he made hisself downright nasty over it, said
as if it occurred agin he shouldn't employ me no
more. I durstn't go and offend yer par; he's a
good customer to me, he is."
"I'll give you a sovereign to do it," said Paul.
"If yer wouldn't tell no tales, I might put
yer down at the corner p'raps," said Clegg,
hesitating, to Paul's joy; "not as it aint cheap at
that, but let's see yer suffering fust. Why," he
cried with lofty contempt as he saw from Paul's
face that the coin was not producible, "y'aint got
no suffering! Garn away, and don t try to tempt
a pore cabby as has a livin' to make! What d'ye
think of this, porter, now? 'Ere's a young gent
a tryin' to back out o' going to school when he
ought to be glad and thankful as he's receivin'
the blessin's of a good eddication. Look at me.
I'm a 'ard-workin' man, I am. I aint 'ad no
eddication. The kids, they're a learnin' PYench,
and free'and drorin', and the bones on a skellington
at the Board School, and I pays my coppers
IN TIIE TOILS.
49
down every week cheerful. And why, porter ?
Why, young master? 'Cause I knows the vally
on ltl But when I sees a real young gent a
despisin' of the oppertoonities as a bountiful Pro¬
vidence and a excellent par has 'eaped on his 'ed,
it—it makes me sick, it inspires Clegg with a pity
and a contemp' for such ingratstood, which he
cares not for to 'ide from public voo!"
Clegg delivered this harangue with much
gesture and in a loud tone, which greatly edified
the porters and disgusted Mr. Bultitude.
"Go away," said the latter, "that's enough.
You're drunk 1"
"Drunk!" bellowed the outraged Clegg, rising
on the box in his wrath. "'Ear that. 'Ark at
this 'ere young cock sparrer as tells a fam'ly man
like Clegg as he's drunk! Drunk, after drivin'
his par in this 'ere werry cab through frost and
fine fifteen year and more! I wonder yer don't
say the old 'orse is drunk; you'll be sayin' that
next! Drunkl oh, cert'nly, by all means. Never
you darken my cab doors no more. I shall take
and tell your par, I shall. Drunk, indeed! A ill-
conditioned young wiper as ever I see. Drunk!
yah!"
And with much cursing and growling, Clegg
gathered up his reins and drove off into the fog,
Boaler having apparently pre-paid the fare..
"Where for, sir, please?" said a porter, who
had been putting the paybox and portmanteau
on a truck during tihe altercation.
"Nowhere," said Mr. Bultitude. "I—I'm not
E
5°
VICE VERSA.
going by this train; find me a cab with a sober
driver."
The porter looked round. A moment before
there had been several cabs discharging their
loads at the steps; now the last had rolled away
empty.
"You might find one inside the station by
the arrival platform," he suggested; "but there'll
be sure to be one comin' up here in another
minute, sir, if you like to wait."
Paul thought the other course might be the
longer one, and decided to stay where he was.
So he walked into the lofty hall in which the
booking offices are placed, and waited there by
the huge fire that blazed in the stove until he
should hear the cab arrive which oould take him
back to Westbourne Terrace.
One or two trains were about to start, and
the place was full. There were several Cambridge
men "going up" after the Christmas vacation, in
every variety of ulster; some tugging at refractory
white terriers, one or two entrusting tall bright
bicycles to dubious porters with many cautions
and directions. There were burly old farmers
going back to their quiet countryside, flushed
with the prestige of a successful stand under
cross-examination in some witness-box at Lincoln's
Inn; to tell and retell the story over hill and
dale, in the market-place and bar-parlour, every
week, for the rest of their honest lives. There
was the usual pantomime "rally" on a mild scale,
IN THE TOILS.
51
with real frantic passengers, and porters, and
tracks, and trays of lighted lamps.
Presently, out of the crowd and confusion, a
small boy in a thick pilot jacket and an immensely
tall hat, whom Paul had observed looking at him
intently for some time, walked up to the stove
and greeted him familiarly.
"Hallo, Bultitudel" he said, "I thought it was
you. Here we are again, eh? Ughl" and he
giggled dismally.
He was a pale-faced boy with freckles, very
light green eyes, long, rather ragged black hair,
a slouching walk, and a smile half-simpering, half-
impudent.
Mr. Bultitude was greatly staggered by the
presumption of so small a boy venturing to address
him in this way. He could only stare haughtily.
"You might find a word to say to a fellow?"
said the boy in an aggrieved tone. "Look here;
come and get your luggage labelled."
"I don't want it labelled," said Paul stiffly,
feeling bound to say something. "I'm waiting for
a cab to take me home again."
The other gave a loud whistle. "That'll
make it rather a short term, won't it, if you're
going home for the holidays already? You're a
cool chap, Bultitude! If I were to go back to
my governor now, he wouldn't see it. It would
put him in no end of a bait. But you're
chaffing "
Paul walked away from him with marked
E*
52
VICE VERSA.
coolness. He was not going to trouble himself
to talk to his son's schoolfellows.
"Ain't you well?" said the boy, not at all
discouraged by his reception, following him and
taking his arm. "Down in the mouth? It is
beastly, isn't it, having to go back to old Grim-
stone's ? The snow gave us an extra week,
though—we've that much to be thankful for. I
wish it was the first day of the holidays again,
don't you? What's the matter with you? What
have I done to put you in a wax?"
"Nothing at present," said Paul. "I don't
speak to you merely because I don't happen to
have the—ah—pleasure of your acquaintance."
"Oh, very well, then; I daresay you know
best," said he other huffily. "Only I thought—
considering we came the same half, and have
been chums, and always sat next one another
ever since—you might perhaps just recollect having
met me before, you know."
"Well, I don't," said Mr. Bultitude. "I tell
you I haven't the least idea what your name is.
The fact is there has been a slight mistake, which
I can't stop to talk about now. There's a cab just
driven up outside now. You must excuse me, really,
my boy, I want to go."
He tried to wotk his arm free from the close
and affectionate grip of his unwelcome com¬
panion, who was regarding him with a sort of
admiring leer.
"What a fellow you are, Bultitude!" he said;
"always up to something or other. You know me
IN THE TOILS.
53
well enough. I'm Jolland. What is the use of
keeping it up any longer? Let's talk, and stop
humbugging. How much grub have you brought
back this time?"
To be advised to stop humbugging, and be
persecuted with such idle questions as these, mad¬
dened the poor gentleman. A hansom really had
rolled up to the steps outside. He must put an
end to this waste of precious time, and escape
from this highly inconvenient small boy.
He forced his way to the door, the boy still
keeping fast hold of his arm. Fortunately the cab
was still there, and its late occupant, a tall, broad
man, was standing with his back to them paying
the driver. Paul was only just in time.
"Porterl" he cried. "Where's that porter? I
want my box put on that cab. No, I don't care
about the luggage; engage the cab. Now, you
little ruffian, are you going to let me go? Can't
you see I'm anxious to get away?"
Jolland giggled more impishly than ever. "Well,
you have got cheekl" he said. "Go on, I wish
you may get that cab, I'm sure!"
Paul, thus released, was just hurrying towards
the cab, when the stranger who had got out of
it settled the fare with satisfaction to himself and
turned sharply round.
The gas-light fell full on his face, and Mr.
Bultitude recognised that the form and features
were those of no stranger—he had stumbled upon
the very last person he had expected or desired
54
VICE VERSA.
to meet just then—his flight was intercepted by
his son's schoolmaster, Dr. Grimstone himself!
The suddenness of the shock threw him com¬
pletely off his balance. In an ordinary way the
encounter would not of course have discomposed
him, but now he would have given worlds for pre¬
sence of mind enough either to rush past to the
cab and secure his only chance of freedom before
the Doctor had fully realised his intention, or else
greet him affably and calmly, and, taking him
quietly aside, explain his awkward position with
an easy man-of-the-world air, which would ensure
instant conviction.
But both courses were equally impossible. He
stood there, right in Dr. Grimstone's path, with
terrified starting eyes and quivering limbs, more
like an unhappy guinea-pig expecting the advances
of a boa, than a British merchant in the presence
of his son's schoolmaster! He was sick and faint
with alarm, and the consciousness that appearances
were all against him.
There was nothing in the least extraordinary
in the fact of the Doctor's presence at the station.
Mr. Bultitude might easily have taken this into
account as a very likely contingency and have
provided accordingly, had he troubled to think,
for it was Dr. Grimstone's custom, upon the first
day of the term, to come up to town and meet
as many of his pupils upon the platform as in¬
tended to return by a train previously specified at
the foot of the school-bills; and Paul had even
expressly insisted upon Dick's travelling under
IN THE TOILS.
55
surveillance in this manner, thinking it necessary
to keep him out of premature mischief.
It makes a calamity doubly hard to bear
when one looks back and sees by what a trivial
chance it has come upon us, and how slight an
effort would have averted it altogether; and Mr.
Bultitude cursed his own stupidity as he stood
there, rooted to the ground, and saw the hansom
(a "patent safety" to him in sober earnest) drive
off and abandon him to his fate.
Dr. Grimstone bore down heavily upon him
and Jolland, who had by this time come up. He
was a tall and imposing personage, with a strong
black heard and small angry grey eyes, slightly
blood-tinged; he wore garments of a semi-
clerical cut and colour, though he was not in
orders. He held out a hand to each with elabo¬
rate geniality.
"Ha, Bultitude, my boy, how are you? How
are you, Jolland? Come back, braced in body and
mind by your vacation, eh? That's as it should
be. Have you tickets? No? follow me then. You're
both over age, I believe. There you are; take
care of them."
And before Paul could protest, he had purchased
tickets for all three, after which he laid an author¬
itative hand upon Mr. Bultitude's shoulder and
walked him out through the booking hall upon the
platform.
"This is awful," thought Paul, shrinking in¬
voluntarily; "simply awful. He evidently has 110
idea who I really am. Unless I'm very careful I
56
VICE VERSA.
shall be dragged off to Crichton House before I
can put him right. If I could only get him away
alone somewhere."
As if in answer to the wish, the Doctor
guided him by a slight pressure straight along by
the end of the station, saying to Jolland as he
did so, "I wish to have a serious conversation with
Richard in private. Suppose you go to the book¬
stall and see if you can find ou1, any of our
young friends. Tell them to wait foi me there."
When they were alone the Doctor paced
solemnly along in silence for some moments, while
Paul, who had always been used to consider him¬
self a fairly prominent object, whatever jmight be
his surroundings, began to feel an altogether novel
sensation of utter insignificance upon that immense
brown plain of platform and under the huge span
of the arches whose girders were lost in wreaths
of mingled fog and smoke.
Still he had some hope. Was it not possible,
after all, that the Doctor had divined his secret
and was searching lor words delicate enough to
convey his condolences?
"I wished to tell you, Bultitude," said the
Doctor presently, and his first words dashed all
Paul's rising hopes, "that I hope you are return¬
ing this term with the resolve to do better things.
You have caused your excellent father much pain
in the past. You little know the grief a wilful boy
can inflict on his parent."
"I think I have a very fair idea of it," thought
Paul, but he said nothing.
IN THE TOILS.
57
"I hope you left him in good health? Such
a devoted parent, Richard—such a noble heart!"
At any other time Mr. Bultitude might have
felt gratified by these eulogies, but just then he
was conscious that he could lay no claim to
them. It was Dick who had the noble heart now,
and he himself felt less of a devoted parent even
than he looked.
"I had a letter from him during the vacation,"
continued Dr. Grimstone; "a sweet letter, Richard,
breathing in every line a father's anxiety and
concern for your welfare."
Paul was a little staggered. He remembered
having written, but he would scarcely perhaps
have described his letter as "sweet," as he had
not done much more than enclose a cheque for
his son's account and object to the items for
pew-rent and scientific lectures with the diorama
as excessive.
"But—and this is what I wanted to say to
you, Bultitude—his is no blind doting affection.
He has implored me, for your own sake, if I see
you diverging ever so slightly from the path of
duty, not to stay my hand. And I shall not
forget his injunctions."
A few minutes ago, and it would have seemed
to Paul so simple and easy a matter to point out
to the Doctor the very excusable error into which
he had fallen. It was no more than he would
have to do repeatedly upon his return, and here
was an excellent opportunity for an explanation.
But, somehow, the words would not come.
58
VICE VERSA.
The schoolmaster's form seemed so tremendous
and towering, and he so feeble and powerless
before him, that he soon persuaded himself that
a public place, like a station platform, was no
scene for domestic revelations of so painful a
character.
He gave up all idea of resistance at present.
"Perhaps I had better leave him in his error till
we get into the train," he thought; "then we will
get rid of that other boy, and I can break it to
him gradually in the railway carriage as I get
more accustomed to him."
But in spite of his determination to unbosom
himself without further delay, he knew that a kind
of fascinated resignation was growing upon him
and gaining firmer hold each minute.
Something must be done to break the spell
and burst the toils which were being woven round
him before all effort became impossible.
"And now," said the Doctor, glancing up at
the great clock-face on which a reflector cast a
patch of dim yellow light, "we must be thinking
of starting. But don't forget what I have said."
And they walked back towards the bookstalls
with their cheery warmth of colour, past the glit¬
tering buffet, and on up the platform, to a part
where six boys of various sizes were standing
huddled forlornly together under a gaslight.
"Aha!" safd Dr. Grimstone, with a slight
touch of the ogre in his tone, "more of my
fellows, eh? We shall be quite a party. How do
you do, boys? Welcome back to your studies!"
IN THE TOILS.
59
And the six boys came forward, all evidently
in the lowest spirits, and raised their tall hats
with a studied politeness.
"Some old friends here, Bultitude," said the Doc¬
tor, impelling the unwilling Paul towards the group.
"You know Tipping of course; Coker, too, you've
met before—and Coggs. How are you, Siggers?
You're looking well. Ah, by the way, I see a
new face—Kiffin, I think? Kiffin, this is Master
Bultitude, who will make himself your mentor, I
hope, and initiate you into our various manners
and customs."
And, with a horrible dream-like sense of un¬
reality, Mr. Bultitude found himself being greeted
by several entire strangers with a degree of warmth
embarrassing in the extreme.
He would have liked to protest and declare
himself there and then in his true colours, but if
this had been difficult alone with the Doctor under
the clock, it was impossible now, and he sub¬
mitted ruefully enough to their unwelcome ad¬
vances.
Tipping, a tall, red-haired, raw-boned boy,
with sleeves and trousers he had outgrown, and
immense boots, wrung Paul's hand with misdirected
energy, saying "how-de-do?" with a gruff su¬
periority, mercifully tempered by a touch of sheep-
ishness.
Coggs and Coker welcomed him with open
arms as an equal, while Siggers, a short, slight,
sharp-featured boy, with a very fashionable hat
and shirt-collars, and a horse-shoe pin, drawled,
6o
VICE VERSA.
"How are you, old boy?" with the languor of a
confirmed man about town.
The other two were Iliddlecomb, a boy with
a blooming complexion and a singularly sweet
voice, and the new comer, Kiffin, who did not
seem much more at home in the society of other
boys than Mr. Bultitude himself, for he kept nerv¬
ously away from them, shivering with the piteous
self-abandonment of an Italian greyhound.
Paul was now convinced that unless he ex¬
erted himself considerably, his identity with his
son would never even be questioned, and the
danger roused him to a sudden determination.
However his face and figure might belie him,
nothing in his speech or conduct should encourage
the mistake. Whatever it might cost him to over¬
come his fear of the Doctor, he would force him¬
self to act and talk ostentatiously, as much like
his own ordinary self as possible, during the jour¬
ney down to Rodwell Regis, so as to prepare the
Doctor's mind for the disclosures he meant to
make at the earliest opportunity. He was begin¬
ning to see that the railway carriage, with all
those boys sitting by and staring, would be an
inconvenient place for so delicate and difficult a
confession.
The guard having warned intending passen¬
gers to take their seats, and Jolland, who had
been unaccountably missing all this time, having
appeared from the direction of the refreshment
buffet, furtively brushing away some suspicious-
looking flakes and crumbs from his' coat, and con
A MINNOW AMONGST TRITONS. 61
trived to join the party unperceived, they all got
into a first-class compartment—Paul with the rest.
He longed for moral courage to stand out
boldly and refuse to leave town, but, as we
have seen, it was beyond his powers, and he tem¬
porised. Very soon the whistle had sounded and
the train had begun to glide slowly out beyond
the platform and arch, past the signal boxes and
long low sheds and offices which are the suburbs
of a large terminus—and then it was too late.
CHAPTER IV.
A MINNOW AMONGST TRITONS.
"Boys are capital fellows in their own way among their mates ;
but they are unwholesome companions for grown people." —
Essays of Elia.
FOR some time after they were fairly started the
Doctor read his evening paper with an air of im¬
partial but severe criticism, and Mr. Bultitude, as
he sat opposite him next to the window, found
himself overwhelmed with a new aiid very un¬
pleasant timidity.
He knew that, if he would free himself, this
utterly unreasonable feeling must be wrestled with
and overcome; that now, if fever, was tire time to
assert himself, and prove that he was anything
but the raw youth he was conscious of appearing.
()2
VICE VERSA.
He had merely to speak and act, too, in his ordinary
everyday manner; to forget as far as possible
the change that had affected his outer man, which
was not so very difficult to do after all—and yet
his heart sank lower and lower as each fresh tele¬
graph post flitted past.
"I will let him speak first," he thought; "then
I shall be able to feel my way." But there was
more fear than caution in the resolve.
At last, however, the Doctor laid down his
paper, and, looking round with the glance of pro¬
prietorship on his pupils, who had relapsed into a
decorous and gloomy silence, observed: "Well,
boys, you have had an unusually protracted vaca¬
tion this time—owing to the unprecedented sever¬
ity of the weather. We must try to make up
for it by the zest and ardour with which we pursue
our studies during the term. I intend to Teduce
the Easter holidays by a week by way of compen¬
sation."
This announcement (which by no means re¬
lieved the general depression—the boys receiving
it with a sickly interest) was good news to Paul,
and even had the effect of making him forget his
position for the time.
"I'm uncommonly glad to hear it, Dr. Grim-
stone," he said heartily, "that's as it should be.
Boys have too many holidays as it is. There's
no reason, to my mind, why parents should be
the sufferers by every snowstorm. It's no joke, I
can assure you, to haye a great idle boy hanging
about the place eating his empty head off!"
A MINNOW AMONGST TRITONS.
63
A burglar enlarging upon the sanctity of the
law of property, or a sheep urging the necessity
for butcher's meat, could hardly have produced a
greater sensation.
Every boy was roused from his languor to
stare and wonder at these traitorous sentiments,
which, from the mouth of any but a known and
tried companion, would have roused bitter hostility
and contempt. As it was, their wonder became
a rapturous admiration, and they waited for the
situation to develop with a fearful and secret joy.
It was some time before the Doctor quite
recovered himself; then he said with a grim smile,
"This is indeed finding Saul amongst the prophets;
your sentiments, if sincere, Bultitude—I repeat, if
sincere—are very creditable. But I am obliged to
look upon them with suspicion 1" Then, as if to
dismiss a doubtful subject, he inquired generally,
"And how have you all been spending your holi¬
days, eh?"
There was no attempt to answer this ques¬
tion, it being felt probably that it was, like the
conventional "How do you do?" one to which an
answer is neither desired nor expected, especially
as he continued almost immediately, "I took my
boy Tom up to town the week before Christmas
to see the representation of the 'Agamemnon' at
St. George's Hall. The 'Agamemnon,' as most
of you are doubtless aware, is a drama by SEschy-
lus, a Greek poet of established reputation. I was
much pleased by the intelligent appreciation Tom
showed during the performance. He distinctly
64
VICE VERSA.
recognised several words from his Greek Grammar
in the course of the dialogue."
No one seemed capable of responding except
Mr. Bultitude, who dashed into the breach with
an almost pathetic effort to maintain his accustomed
stiffness.
"I may be old-fashioned," he said, "very likely
I am; but I, ah, decidedly disapprove of taking
children to dramatic exhibitions of any kind. It
unsettles them, sir—unsettles them!"
Dr. Grimstone made no answer, but he put
a hand on each knee, and glared with pursed lips
and a leonine bristle of the beard at his youthful
critic for some moments, after which he returned
to his "Globe" with a short ominous cough.
"I've offended him now," thought Paul. "I
must be more careful what I say. But I'll get
him into conversation again presently."
So he began at the first opportunity: "You
have this evening's paper, I see. No telegrams
of importance, I suppose?"
"No, sir," said the Doctor shortly.
"I saw a report in to-day's 'Times,'" said
poor/Mr. Bultitude, with a desperate attempt at
his most conversational and old-gentlemanly manner,
"I saw a report- that the camphor crop was likely
to be a failure this season. Now, it's a very
singular thing about camphor, that the Japanese" —
(he hoped to lead the conversation round to
colonial produce, and thus open the Doctor's
eyes by the extant of his acquaintance with the
subject).
A WINNOW AMONGST TRITONS.
"I am already acquainted with the method
of obtaining camphor, thank you, Bultitude," said
the Doctor, with dangerous politeness.
"I was about to observe, when you interrupted
me," said Paul, "(and this is really a fact that I
doubt if you are aware of), that the Japanese
never"
"Well, well," said the Doctor, with some
impatience, "probably they never do, sir, but 1
shall have other opportunities of finding out what
you have read about the Japanese."
But he glanced over the top of the paper at
the indignant Paul, who was not accustomed to
have his information received in this manner, with
less suspicion and a growing conviction that some
influence during the holidays had changed the
boy from a graceless young scapegrace into a
prig of the first water.
"He's most uncivil"—Mr Bultitude told him¬
self— "almost insulting, but Pll go on. I'm rousing
his curiosity. I'm making way with him; he sees
a difference already." And so he applied himself
once more.
"You're a smoker, of course, Dr. Grimstone?"
he began. "We don't stop anywhere, I think, on
the way, and I must confess myself, after dinner,
a whiff or two—I think I can give you a cigar
you'll appreciate."
And he felt for his cigar-case, really forgetting
that it was gone, like all other incidents of his
old self; while Jolland giggled with unrestrained
delight at such charming effrontery.
F
66
VICE VERSA.
"If I did not know, sir," said the Doctor,
now effectually roused, "that this was ill-timed
buffoonery, and not an intentional insult, I should
be seriously angry. As it is, I can overlook any
exuberance of mirth which is, perhaps, pardonable
when the mind is elated by the return to the
cheerful bustle and activity of school-life. But be
very careful."
"He needn't be so angry," thought Paul,
"how could I know he doesn't smoke? But I'm
afraid he doesn't quite know me, even now."
So he began again: "Did I hear you mention
the name of Kiffin amongst those of your pupils
here, Doctor? I thought so. Not the son of
Jordan Kiffin, of College Hill, surely? Yes? Why,
bless my soul, your father and I, my little fellow,
were old friends in days before you were born or
thought of—born or thought of. He was in a
very small way then, a very small Eh, Dr.
Grimstone, don't you feel well?'
"I see what you're aiming at, sir. You wish
to prove to me that I'm making a mistake in my
treatment of you."
"That was my idea, certainly," said Paul,
much pleased. "I'm very glad you take me,
Doctor."
"I shall take you in a way you won't appreciate
soon, if this goes on," said the Doctor under his
breath.
"When the time comes I shall know how to
deal with you. Till then you'll have the goodness
to hold your tongue," he said aloud.
A MINNOW AMONGST TRITONS.
"It's not a very polite way of putting it,"
Paul said to himself, "but, at any rate, he sees
how the case stands now, and after all, perhaps,
he only speaks like that to put the boys off the
scent. If so, it's uncommonly considerate and
thoughtful of him, by Gad. I won't say any
more."
But by-and-by, the open window made him
break his resolution. "I'm sorry to inconvenience
you, Dr. Grimstone," he said, with the air of an
old gentleman used to having his way in these
matters, "but I positively must ask you either to
allow me to have this window up or to change
places with you. The night air, sir, at this time
of the year is fatal, my doctor tells me, simply
fatal to a man of my constitution."
The Doctor pulled up the window with a
frown, and yet a somewhat puzzled expression.
"I warn you, Bultitude," he said, "you are acting
very imprudently."
"So I am," thought Paul, "so I am. Good
of him to remind me. I must keep it up before
all these boys. This unpleasant business mustn't
get about. I'll hold my tongue till we get in.
Then, I daresay, Grimstone will see me off by
the next train up, if there is one, and lend me
enough for a bed at a hotel for the night. I
couldn't get to St. Pancras till very late, of course.
Or he might offer to put me up at the school.
If he does, I think I shall very possibly accept.
It might be better."
And he leant back in his seat in a much
F
68
VICE VERSA.
easier frame of mind; it was annoying, of course,
to have been turned out of his warm dining-room,
and sent all the way down to Rodwell Regis on
a fool's errand like this; but still, if nothing worse
came of it, he could put up with the temporary
inconvenience, and it was a great relief to be
spared the necessity of an explanation.
The other boys watched him furtively with
growing admiration, which expressed itself in sub¬
dued whispers, varied by little gurgles and "squirks"
of laughter; they tried to catch his eye and
stimulate him to further feats of audacity, but Mr.
Bultitude, of course, repulsed all such overtures
with a coldness and severity which at once bathed
and piqued them.
At last his eccentricity took a shape which
considerably lessened their enthusiasm. Kiffin, the
new boy, occupied the seat next to Paul: he was
a nervous-looking little fellow, with a pale face
and big pathetic brown eyes like a seal's, and
his dress bore plain evidence of a mother's careful
supervision, having all the uncreased trimness and
specklessness rarely to be observed except in the
toilettes of the waxen prodigies in a shop-window.
It happened that, as he lay back in the
padded seat between the sheltering partitions,
watching the sickly yellow dregs of oil surging
dismally to and fro with the motion in the lamp
overhead, or the black, indistinct forms flitting
past through the misty blue outside, the pathos
of his situation became all at once too much
for him.
A MINNOW AMONGST TRITONS.
69
He was a home-bred boy, without any of
that taste for the companionship and pursuits of
his fellows, or capacity for adapting himself to
their prejudices and requirements, which give some
home-bred boys a ready passport into the roughest
communities.
His heart throbbed with no excited curiosity,
no conscious pride, at this his first important step
in life; he was a forlorn little stranger, in an un¬
sympathetic strange land, and was only too well
aware of his position.
So that it is not surprising that as he thought
of the home he had left an hour or two ago,
which now seemed so shadowy, so inaccessible and
remote, his eyes began to smart and sting, and
his chest to heave ominously, until he felt it ne¬
cessary to do something to give a partial vent to
his emotions and prevent a public und disgraceful
exhibition of grief.
Unhappily for him he found this safety-
valve in a series of suppressed but distinctly au¬
dible sniffs.
Mr. Bultitude bore this for some time with
no other protest than an occasional indignant
bounce or a lowering frown in the offender's di¬
rection, but at last his nerves, strung already to a
high pitch by all he had undergone, could stand
it no longer.
"Dr. Grimstone," he said with polite deter¬
mination, "I'm not a man to complain without
good reason, but really I must ask you to inter¬
fere. Will you tell this boy here, on my right,
7°
VICE VERSA.
either to control his feelings or to cry into his
pocket-handkerchief, like an ordinary human being.
A good honest bellow I can understand, but this
infernal whiffling and sniffing, sir, I will not put
up with. It's nothing less than unnatural in a boy
of that size."
"Kiffin," said the Doctor, "are you crying?"
"N—no, sir," faltered Kiffin; "I—I think I
must have caught cold, sir."
"I hope you are telling me the truth, because
I should be sorry to believe you were beginning
your new life in a spirit of captiousness and re¬
bellion. I'll have no mutineers in my camp. I'll
establish a spirit of trustful happiness and unmur¬
muring content in this school, if I have to flog
ever)' boy in it as long as I can stand over him 1
As for you, Richard Lultitude, I have no words
to express my pain and disgust at the heartless
irreverence with which you persist in mimicking
and burlesquing a fond and excellent parent. Un¬
less I perceive, sir, in a very short time a due
sense of your error and a lively repentance, my
disapproval will take a very practical form."
Mr. Bultitude fell back into his seat with a
gasp. It was hard to be accused of caricaturing
one's own self, particularly when conscious of entire
innocence in that respect, but even this was slight
in comparison with the discovery that he had been
so blindly deceiving himself!
The Doctor evidently had failed to penetrate
his disguise, and the dreaded scene of elaborate
explanation must be gone through after all.
A MINNOW AMONGST TRITONS. 71
The boys (with the exception of Kiffin) still
found exquisite enjoyment in this extraordinary
and original exhibition, and waited eagerly for
further experiments on the Doctor's patience.
They were soon gratified. If there was one
thing Paul detested more than another, it was
the smell of peppermint—no less than three office
boys had been discharged by him because , as he
alleged, they made the clerks' room reek with it,
— and now the subtle searching odour of the hated
confection was gradually stealing into the compart¬
ment and influencing its atmosphere.
He looked at Coggs, who sat on the seat
opposite to him, and saw his cheeks and lips mov¬
ing in slow and appreciative absorption of some¬
thing. Coggs was clearly the culprit.
"Do you encourage your boys to make com¬
mon nuisances of themselves in a public place,
may I ask, Dr. Grimstone?" he inquired fuming.
"Some scarcely seem to require encourage¬
ment, Bultitude," said the Doctor pointedly: "what
is the matter now?"
"If he takes it medicinally," said Paul, "he
should choose some other time and place to treat
his complaint. If he has a depraved liking for the
abominable stuff, for Heaven's sake make him re¬
frain from it on occasions when it is a serious
annoyance to others!"
"Will you explain? Who and what are you
talking about?"
"That boy opposite," said Paul, pointing the
finger of denunciation at the astonished Coggs;
VICE VERSA.
"he's sucking an infernal peppermint lozenge strong
enough to throw the train off the rails!"
"Is what Multitude tells me true, Coggs?" de¬
manded the Doctor in an awful voice.
Coggs, after making several attempts to bolt
the offending lozenge, and turning scarlet mean¬
while with confusion and coughing, stammered
huskily something to the effect that he had
"bought the lozenges at a chemist's," which he
seemed to consider, for some reason, a mitigating
circumstance.
"Have you any more of this pernicious stuff
about you?" said the Doctor.
Very slowly and reluctantly Coggs brought
out of one pocket after another three or four neat
little white packets, made up with that lavish ex¬
penditure of time, string, and sealing-wax, by
which the struggling chemist seeks to reconcile
the public mind to a charge of two hundred and
fifty per cent, on cost price, and handed them to
Grimstone, who solemnly unfastened them one by
one, glanced at their contents with infinite disgust,
and flung them out of window.
Then he turned to Paul with a look of more
favour than he had yet shown him. "Bultitude,"
he said, "I am obliged to you. A severe cold in
the head has rendered me incapable of detecting
this insidious act of insubordination and self-
indulgence, on which I shall have more to say
on another occasion. Your moral courage and
promptness in denouncing the evil thing are much
to your credit."
A MINNOW AMONGST TRITONS.
73
"Not at all," said Paul, "not at all, my dear
sir. I mentioned it because I, ah, happen to be
peculiarly sensitive on the subject—" Plere he
broke off with a sharp yell, and began to rub his
ankle. "One of these young savages has just given
me a severe kick; it's that fellow over there, with
the blue necktie. I have given him no provocation,
and he attacks me in this brutal manner, sir; I
appeal to you for protection!"
"So, Coker" (Coker wore a blue necktie), said
the Doctor, "you emulate the wild ass in more
qualities than those of stupidity and stubbornness,
do you? You lash out with your hind legs at an
inoffensive schoolfellow, with all the viciousness of
a kangaroo, eh? Write out all you find in
Buffon's Natural History upon those two animals
a dozen times, and bring it to me by to-morrow
evening. If I am to stable wild asses, sir, they
shall be broken in!"
Six pairs of sulky glowering eyes were fixed
upon the unconscious Paul for the rest of the
journey, indignant protests and dark vows of
vengeance were muttered under cover of the
friendly roar and rattle of tunnels. But the object
of them heard nothing; his composure was
returning once more in the sunshine of Dr.
Grimstone's approbation, and he almost decided
on declaring himself in the station fly.
And now at last the train was grinding along
discordantly with the brakes on, and after a little
preliminary jolting and banging over the points,
drew up at a long lighted platform, where
74
VICE VERSA.
melancholy porters paced up and down, croaking
"Rodwell Regis!" like so many Solomon Eagles
predicting woe.
Paul got out with the others, and walked
forward to the guard's van, where he stood
shivering in the raw night air by a small heap of
portmanteaux and white clamped boxes.
"I should like to tell him all about it now,"
he thought, "if he wasn't so busy. I'll get him
to go in a cab alone with me, and get it over
before we reach the house."
Dr. Grimstone certainly did not seem in a
very receptive mood for confidences just then.
No flys were to be seen, which he took as a
personal outrage, and visited upon the station-
master in hot indignation.
"It's scandalous, I tell you," he was saying:
"scandalous! No cabs to meet the train. My
school reassembles to-day, and here I find no
arrangements made for their accommodation! Not
even an omnibus! I shall write to the manager
and report this. Let some one go for a fly
immediately. Boys, go into the waiting-room till I
come to you. Stay—there are too many for one
fly. Coker, Coggs, and, let me see, yes, Bultitude,
you all know your way. Walk on and tell Mrs.
Grimstone we are coming."
Mr. Bultitude was perhaps more relieved than
disappointed by this postponement of a dis¬
agreeable interview, though, if he had seen Coker
dig Coggs in the side with a chuckle of the
exultant triumph, he might have have had mis.
A MINNOW AMONGST TRITONS.
75
givings as to the prudence of trusting himself
alone with them.
As it was he almost determined to trust the
pair with his secret. "They will be valuable wit¬
nesses," he said to himself, "that, whoever else I
may be, I am not Dick."
So he went on briskly ahead over a covered
bridge and down some break-neck wooden steps,
and passed through the wicket out upon the
railed-in space, where the cabs and omnibuses
should have been, but which was now a blank
spectral waste with a white ground-fog lurking
round its borders.
Here he was joined by his companions, who,
after a little whispering, came up one on either
side and put an arm through each of his.
"Well," said Paul, thinking to banter them
agreeably; "here you are, young men, eh? Holi¬
days all over now! Work while you're young, and
then Gad, you're walking me off my legs.
Stop; I'm not as young as I used to be- "
"Grim can't see us here, can he, Coker?"
said Coggs, when they had cleared the gates and
palings.
"Not he!" said Coker.
"Very well, then. Now then, Bultitude, you
used to be a decent fellow enough last term,
though you were coxy. So, before we go any
further—what do you mean by this sort of
thing?"
"Because," put in Coker, "if you aren't quite
right in your head, through your old governor
VICE VERSA.
acting like a brute all the holidays, as you said
he does, just say so, and we won't be hard
on you."
"I-—he — always was an excellent father,"
stammered Paul. "What am I to explain?"
"Why, what did you go and sneak of him
for bringing tuck back to school for, eh?"
demanded Coker.
"Yes, and sing out when he hacked your
shin?" added Coggs; "and tell Grimstone that new
fellow was blubbering? Where's the joke in all
that, eh? Where's the joke?"
"You don't suppose I was bound to sit
calmly down and allow you to suck your
villaneous peppermints under my very nose, do
you?" said Mr. Bultitude. "Why shouldn't I
complain if a boy annoys me by sniffing, or
kicks me on the ankle? Just tell me that!
Suppose my neighbour has a noisy dog or a
smoky chimney, am I not to venture to tell him
of it? Is he to "
But his arguments, convincing as they promised
to be, were brought to a sudden and premature
close by Coker, who slipped behind him and
administered a sharp jog below his back, which
jarred his spine and caused him infinite agony.
"You little brute!" cried Paul, "I could have
you up for assault for that. An old man like
me, too!"
But upon this Coggs did the very same
thing, only harder. "Last term you'd have shown
fight for much less, Bultitude," they both ob-
A MINNOW AMONGST TRITONS.
77
served severely, as some justification for repeating
the process.
"Now, perhaps, you'll drop it for the future,"
said Coker. "Look here! we'll give you one more
chance. This sneaking dodge is all very well for
Chawner. Chawner could do that sort of thing
without getting sat upon, because he's a big fellow;
but we're not going to stand it from you. Will
you promise on your sacred word of honour, now,
to be a decent sort of chap again, as you were
last term?"
But Mr. Bultitude, though he longed for peace
and quietness, dreaded doing or saying anything
to favour the impression that he was the schoolboy
he unluckily appeared to be, and he had not skill
and tact enough to dissemble and assume a familiar
genial tone of equality with these rough boys.
"You don't understand," he protested feebly.
"If I could only tell you "
"We don't want any fine language, you
know," said the relentless Coggs. "Yes or no.
Will you promise to be your old self again?"
"I only wish I could," said poor Mr. Bulti¬
tude— "but I can't!"
"Very well, then," said Coggs firmly, "we
must try the torture. Coker, will you screw the
back of his hand, while I show him how they
make barley-sugar?"
And he gave Paul an interesting illustration
of the latter branch of industry by twisting his
right arm round and round till he nearly wrenched
it out of the Socket, while Coker seized his left
yS
VICE VERSA,
hand and pounded it vigorously with the first joint
of his forefinger, causing the unfortunate I'aul to
yell for mercy.
At last he could bear no more, and breaking
away from his tormentors with a violent effort,
he ran frantically down the silent road towards
a house which he knew from former visits to be
Dr. Grimstone's.
He was but languidly pursued, and, as the
distance was short, he soon gained a gate on the
stuccoed posts of which he could read "Crichton
House" by the light of a neighbouring gas-lamp.
"This is a nice way," he thought, as he reached
it breathless and trembling, "for a father to visit
his son's school!"
He had hoped to reach the sanctuary before the
other two could overtake him; but he soon dis¬
covered that the gate was shut fast, and all his
efforts would not bring him within reach of the
bell-handle—he was too short.
So he sat down on the doorstep in resigned
despair, and waited for his enemies. Behind the
gate was a large many-windowed house, with steps
leading up to a portico. In the playground to
his right the school gymnasium, a great gallows¬
like erection, loomed black and grim through the
mist, the night wind favouring the ghastliness of
its appearance by swaying the ropes till they
creaked and moaned weirdly on the hooks, and the
metal stirrups clinked and clashed against one
another in irregular cadence.
He had no time to observe more, as Coker
A MINNOW AMONGST TRITONS.
79
and Coggs joined him, and, on finding he had not
rung the bell, seized the occasion to pummel him
at their leisure before announcing their arrival.
Then the gate was opened, and the three—
the revengeful pair assuming an air of lamb-like
inoftensiveness—entered the hall and were met by
Mrs. Grimstone.
"Why, here you arel" she said, with an air
of surprise, and kissing them with real kindness.
"How cold you look I So you actually had to
walk. No cabs as usual. Poor boysl come in
and warm yourselves. You'll find all your old
friends in the schoolroom."
Mr. Bultitude submitted to be kissed with
some reluctance. He was a scrupulously proper
and correct old gentleman, and inwardly hoped
that Dr. Grimstone might never hear of it.
Mrs. Grimstone, it may be said here, was a
stout, fair woman, not in the least intellectual or
imposing, but with a warm heart, and a way of
talking to and about boys that secured her the
confidence of mothers more effectually, perhaps,
th.m the most polished conversation and irreproach¬
able deportment could have done.
She did not reserve her motherliness for the
reception room either, as some schoolmasters'
wives have a tendency to do, and the smallest
boy felt less homesick when he saw her.
She opened a green baize outer door, and the
door beyond it, and led them into a long high
room, with desks and forms placed against the
walls, and a writing table, and a line of brown-
So
VICE VERSA.
stained tables down the middle. Opposite the
windows there was a curious structure of shelves
partitioned into lockers, and filled with rows of
shabby schoolbooks.
The room had been originally intended for a
drawing-room, as was evident from the inevitable
white and gold wall-paper and the tarnished gilt
leading round the doors and window shutters; the
mantelpiece, too, was of white marble, and the
gaselier fitted with dingy crystal lustres.
But sad-coloured maps hung on the ink-
plashed walls, and a clock with a blank idiotic face
(it is not every clock that possesses a decently
intelligent expression) ticked over the gilt pier-
glass. The boards were uncarpeted, and stained
with patches of ink of all sizes and ages; while
the atmosphere, in spite of the blazing fire, had a
scholastic blending of soap and water, ink and
slate-pencil in its composition, which produced a
chill and depressing effect.
On the forms opposite the fire some ten or
twelve boys were sitting, a few comparing notes
as to their holiday experiences with some approach
to vivacity. The rest, with hands in pockets and
feet stretched towards the blaze, seemed lost in
melancholy abstraction.
"There!" said Mrs. Grimstone cheerfully, "you 11
have plenty to talk to one another about. I ll
send Tom in to see you presently!" And she
left them with a reassuring nod, though the pro¬
spect ot Tom's company did not perhaps elate
them as much as it was intended to do.
A MINNOW AMONGST TRITONS.
Si
Mr. Bultitude felt much as if he had suddenly
been dropped down a bear-pit, and avoiding wel¬
come and observation as well as he could, got
away into a corner, from which he observed his
new companions with uneasy apprehension.
"I say," said one boy, resuming the inter¬
rupted conversation, "did you go to Drury Lane?
Wasn't it stunning! That goose, you know, and
the lion in the forest, and all the wooden animals
lumbering in out of the toy Noah's Ark!"
"Why couldn't you come to our party on
Twelfth-night?" asked another. "We had great
larks. I wish you'd been there!"
"I had to go to young Skidmore's instead,"
said a pale, spiteful-looking boy, with fair hair
carefully parted in the middle. "It was like his
cheek to ask me, but I thought I'd go, you know,
just to see what it was like."
"What was it like?" asked one or two near
him languidly.
"Oh, awfully slow! They've a poky little
house in Brompton somewhere, and there was no
dancing, only boshy games and a conjuror, without
any presents. And, oh! I say, at supper there
was a big cake on the table, and no one was
allowed to cut it, because it was hired. They're
so poor, you know. Skidmore's pater is only a
clerk, and you should see his sisters!"
"Why, are they pretty?"
"Pretty! they're just like young Skidmore —
only ugher; and just fancy, his mother asked me
tS2
VICE VERSA.
'if I was Skidmore's favourite companion, and if
he helped me in my studies?'"
The unfortunate Skidmore, when he returned,
soon found reason to regret his rash hospitality,
for he never heard the last of the cake (which
had, as it happened, been paid for in the usual
manner) during the rest of the term.
There was a slight laugh at the enormity of
Mrs. Skidmore's presumption, and then a long
pause, after which some one asked suddenly, ' Does
any one know whether Chawner really has left
this time?"
"I hope so," said a big. heavy boy, and his
hope seemed echoed with a general fervour. "He's
been going to leave every term for the last year,
but I believe he really has done it this time. He
wrote and told me he wasn't coming back."
"Thank goodness!" said several, with an
evident relief, and some one was just observing
that they had had enough of the sneaking bu¬
siness, when a flv was heard to drive up, and the
bell rang, whereupon everyone abandoned his easy
attitude, and seemed to brace himself up for a
trying encounter.
"Look out—here's Grimstone!" they whis¬
pered under their breaths, as voices and footsteps
were heard in the hall outside.
Presently the door of the schoolroom opened,
and another boy entered the room. Dr. Grim-
stone, it appeared, had not been the occupant of
the fly, after all. The new comer was a tall,
narrow-shouldered, stooping fellow, with a sallow,
A MINNOW AMONGST TRITONS.
83
unwholesome complexion, thin lips, and small
sunken brown eyes. His cheeks were creased
with a dimpling subsmile, half uneasy, half mali¬
cious, and his tread was mincing and catlike.
"Well, you fellows?" he said.
All rose at once, and shook hands effusively.
"Why, Chawner!" they cried, "how are you, old
fellow? We thought you weren't coming back!"
There was a heartiness in their manner some¬
what at variance with their recent expressions of
opinion; but they had doubtless excellent reasons
for any inconsistency.
"Well," said Chawner, in a low, soft voice,
which had a suggestion of feminine spitefulness,
"I was going to leave, but I thought you'd be
getting into mischief here without me to watch
over you. Appleton, and Lench, and Coker want
looking after badly, I know. So, you see, I've
come back after all. *
He laughed with a little malevolent cackle
as he spoke, and the three boys named laughed
too, though with no great heartiness, and shifting
the while uneasily on their seats.
After this sally the conversation languished
until Tom Grimstone's appearance. He strolled
in with a semi-professional air, and shook hands
with affability.
Tom was a short, flabby, sandy-haired youth,
not particularly beloved of his comrades, and his
first remark was, "I say, you chaps, have you
done your holiday task? Pa says he shall keep
everyone in who hasn't. I've mine;" which, as a
G*
34
VICE VERSA.
contribution to the general liveliness, was a distinct
failure.
Needless to say, the work imposed as a holiday
occupation had been first deferred, then forgotten,
then remembered too late, and recklessly defied
with the confidence begotten in a home at¬
mosphere.
Amidst a general silence Chawner happened
to see Mr. Bultitude in his corner, and crossed
over to him. "Why, there's Dicky Bultitude there
all the time, and he never came to shake hands!
Aren't you going to speak to me?"
Paul growled something indistinctly, feeling
strangely uncomfortable and confused.
"What's the matter with him?" asked Chaw¬
ner. "Does anyone know? Has he lost his
tongue?"
"Pie hadn't lost it coming down in the train,"
said Coker: "I wish he had. I tell you what,
you fellows—He—here's Grim at last! I'll tell you
all about it up in the bedroom."
And Dr. Grimstone really did arrive at this
point, much to Paul's relief, and looked in to
give a grip of the hand and a few words to those
of the boys he had not seen.
Biddlecomb, Tipping, and the rest, came in
with him, and the schoolroom soon filled with
others arriving by later trains, amongst the later
comers being the two house-masters, Mr. Blink-
horn and Mr. Tinkler; and there followed a season
of bustle and conversation, which lasted until the
Doctor touched a small hand-bell, and ordered
A MINNOW AMONGST TRITONS. S>
them to sit down round the tables while supper
was brought in.
Mr. Bultitude was not sorry to hear the word
'supper.' He was faint and dispirited, and although
he had dined not very long since, thought that
perhaps a little cold beef and beer, or some
warmed-up trifle, might give him courage to tell
his misfortunes before bedtime.
Of one thing he felt certain. Nothing should
induce him to trust his person in a bedroom with
any of those violent and vindictive boys; whether
he succeeded in declaring himself that night or
not, he would at least insist on a separate bed¬
room. Meantime he looked forward to supper
as likely to restore geniality and confidence.
But the supper announced so imposingly
proved to consist of nothing more than two plates
piled with small pieces of thinly-buttered bread,
which a page handed round together with tum¬
blers of water; and Paul, in his disappointment,
refused this refreshment with more firmness than
politeness, as Dr. Grimstone observed.
"You got into trouble last term, Bultitude,"
he said sternly, "on account of this same fastidious
daintiness. Your excellent father has informed
me of your waste and gluttony at his own boun¬
tifully spread table. Don't let me have occasion
to reprove you for this again."
Mr. Bultitude, feeling the necessity of pro¬
pitiating him, hastened to take the two largest
squares of bread and butter on the plate. They
were moist and thick, and he had considerable
86
VICE VERSA.
difficulty in disposing of them, besides the gra¬
tification of hearing himself described as a "pig"
by his neighbours, who reproved him with a re¬
freshing candour.
"I must get away from here," he thought,
ruefully. "Dick seems very unpopular. I wish I
didn't feel so low-spirited and unwell. Why can't
I carry it off easily, as—as a kind of joke? How
hard these forms are, and how those infernal boys
did jog my back!"
Bedtime came at length. The boys filed,
one by one, out of the room, and the Doctor
stood by the door to shake hands with them as
they passed.
Mr. Bultitude lingered until the others had
gone, for he had made up his mind to seize this
opportunity to open the Doctor's eyes to the
mistake he was making. But he felt unaccountably
nervous; the diplomatic and well-chosen introduction
he had carefully prepared had left him at the
critical moment; all power of thought was gone
with it, and he went tremblingly up to the school¬
master, feeling hopelessly at the mercy of anything
that chose to come out of his mouth.
"Dr. Grimstone," he began; "before retiring
I—I must insist—I mean I must request—-— What
I wish to say is "
"I see," said the Doctor, catching him up
sharply. "You wish to apologise for your extra¬
ordinary behaviour in the railway carriage? Well,
though you made some amends afterwards, an
A MINNOW AMONGST TRITONS.
87
apology is very right and proper. Say no more
about it."
"It's not that," said Paul hopelessly; "I wanted
to explain—-—"
"Your conduct with regard to the bread and
butter? If it was simply want of appetite, of
course there is no more to be said. But I have
an abhorrence of "
"Quite right," said Paul, recovering himself;
"I hate waste myself, but there is something I
must tell you before——"
"If it concerns that disgraceful conduct of
Coker's," said the Doctor, "you may speak on.
I shall have to consider his case to-morrow. Has
any similar case of disobedience come to your
knowledge? If so, I expect you to disclose it to
me. You have found some other boy with sweet¬
meats in his possession?"
"Good Heavens, sir!" said Rlr. Bultitude,
losing his temper; "I haven't been searching the
whole school for sweetmeats! I have other things
to occupy my mind. sir. And, once for all, I
demand to be heard! Dr. Grimstone, there are,
ahem, domestic secrets that can only be alluded
to in the strictest privacy. I see that one of
your assistants is writing at his table there. Cannot
we go where there will be less risk of interruption?
You have a study, I suppose?"
"Yes, sir," said the Doctor with terrible
grimness, "I have a study—and I have a cane. I
can convince you of both facts, if you wish it.
If you insult me again by this brazen buffoonery,
VICE VERSA.
I will! Be off to your dormitory, sir, before you
provoke me to punish you. Not another word!
Go!"
And, incredible as it may appear to all who
have never been in his position, Mr. Bultitude
went. It was almost an abdication, it was treachery
to his true self; he knew the vital importance of
firmness at this crisis. But nevertheless his courage
gave way at all once, and he crawled up the
bare, uncarpeted stairs without any further protest!
"Good night, Master Bultitude," said a house¬
maid meeting him on the staircase: "you know
your bedroom. No. 6, with Master Coker, and
Master Biddlecomb, and the others."
Paul dragged himself up to the highest landing-
stage, and, with a sick foreboding, opened the
door on which the figure 6 was painted.
It was a large, bare, plainly papered room,
with several curtainless windows, the blinds of
which were drawn, a long deal stand of wash-
hand basins, and eight little white beds against
the walls.
A fire was lighted in consideration of its
being the first night, and several boys were talking
excitedly round it. "Here he is! He's stayed
behind to tell more talcs!" they cried, as Paul
entered nervously. "Now then, Bultitude, what
have you got to say for yourself?"
Mr. Bultitude felt powerless among all these
young wolves. He had no knowledge of boys,
nor any notion of acquiring an influence over
them, having hitherto regarded them as necessary
A MINNOW AMONGST TRITONS. Si,
nuisances, to be rather repressed than studied.
He could only stare hopelessly at them in fascinated
silence.
"You see he hasn't a word to say for him¬
self!" said Tipping. "Look here, what shall we
do to him? Shall we try toss'ng in a blanket?
I've never tried tossing a fellow in one myself,
but as long as you don't jerk him too high, or
out on the floor, you can't hurt him dangerously."
"No, I say, don't toss him in a blanket,"
pleaded Biddlecomb, and Paul felt gratefully towards
him at the words; "anyone coming up would see
what was going on. I vote we flick at him with
towels."
"Now just you understand this clearly," said
Paul, thinking, not without reason, that this course
of treatment was likely to prove painful; "I refuse
to allow myself to be flicked at with towels. No
one has ever offered me such an indignity in my
life! Oh, do you think Pve not enough on my
mind as it is without the barbarities of a set of
young brutes like you!"
As this appeal was not of a very conciliatory
nature, they at once proceeded to form a circle
round him and, judging their distance with great
accuracy, jerked towels at his person with such
diabolical dexterity that the wet corners cut him
at all points like so many fine thongs, and he
spun round like a top, dancing, and, I regret to
add, swearing violently, at the pain.
When he was worked up almost to frenzy
pitch, Biddlecomb's sweet low voice cried, " Cave,
<jo
VICE VERSA.
you fellows! I hear Grim. Let him undress
now, and we can lam it into him afterwards with
slippers 1"
At this they all cast off such of their clothes
as they still wore, and slipped modestly and
peacefully into bed, just as Dr. Grimstone's large
form appeared at the doorway. Mr. Bultitude
made as much haste as he could, but did not
escape a reprimand from the Doctor as he turned
the gas out; and as soon as he had made the
round of the bed-rooms and his heavy tread had
died away down the staircase, the light-hearted
occupants of No. 6 "lammed" it into the unhappy
Paul until they were tired of the exercise, and left
him to creep sore and trembling with rage and
fright into his cold hard bed.
Then, after a little desultory conversation, one
by one sank from incoherence into silence, and
rose from silence to snores, while Paul alone lay
sleepless, listening to the creeping tinkle of the
dying fire, drearily wondering at the marvellous
change that had come over his life and fortunes
in the last few hours, and feverishly composing
impassioned appeals which were to touch the
Doctor's heart and convince his reason.
DISGRACE.
91
CHAPTER V.
disgrace.
"Well had the boding tremblers learned to trace
The day's disasters in his morning's face."
Sleep came at last, and brought too brief forget-
fulness. It was not till the dull grey light of morn¬
ing was glimmering through the blinds that Mr.
Bultitude awoke to his troubles.
The room was bitterly cold, and he remained
shivering in bed for some time, trying to realise
and prepare for his altered condition.
He was the only one awake. Now and then
from one of the beds around a boy would be heard
talking in his sleep, or laughing with holiday glee
—at the drolleries possibly of some pantomime
performed for his amusement in the Theatre Royal,
Dreamland—a theatre mercifully open to all boys
free of charge, long after the holidays have come
to an end, the only drawbacks being a certain
want of definiteness in the plot and scenery, and a
liability to premature termination of the vaguely
splendid performance.
Once Kiffin, the new boy, awoke with a start
and a heavy sigh, but he cried himself to sleep
again almost immediately.
Mr. Bultitude could bear being inactive no
longer. He thought, if he got up, he might per-
02
VICE VERSA.
haps see his misfortunes shrink to a more bearable,
less hopeless scale, and bes'des, he judged it pru¬
dent, for many reasons, to finish his toilet before
the sleepers began theirs.
Very stealthily, dreading to rouse anyone and
attract attention in the form of slippers, he broke
the clinking crust of ice in one of the basins and,
shuddering from the shock, bathed face and hands
in the biting water. He parted his hair, which from
natural causes he had been unable to accomplish
for some years, and now found an awkwardness
in accomplishing neatly, and then stole down
the dark creaking staircase just as the butler in
the hall began to swing the big railway bell
which was to din stern reality into the sleepy
ears above.
In the schoolroom a yawning maid had just
lighted the fire, from which turbid yellow clouds
of sulphurous smoke were pouring into the room,
making it necessary to open the windows and
lower a temperature that was far from high
originally.
Paul stood shaking by the mantelpiece in a
very bad temper for some minutes. If the Doctor
had come in then, he might have been spurred
by indignation to utter his woes, and even
claim and obtain his freedom. But that was
not to be.
The door did open presently, however, and
a little girl appeared; a very charming little maiden
indeed, in a neat dark costume relieved by a fresh
pinafore. She had deep grey eyes and gloss}- brown
DISCRACE.
93
air falling over her forehead and down her back
i soft straight masses, her face was oval rather
lian round, and slightly serious, though her smile
;as pretty and gay.
She ran towards Mr. Bultitude with a glad
ttle cry, stretching out her pretty hands.
"Dick! dear Dick!" she said, "I am so glad!
thought you'd be down early; as you used to
ie. I wanted to sit up last night so very much,
■ ut mamma wouldn't let me."
Some old gentlemen might have been very
lad to be welcomed in this way, even vicariously,
nd have seized the opportunity to pet and pay
ourt to her. As for boys, it must have been a
ery bad school indeed which Dulcie Grimstone
ould not have robbed of much its of terrors.
Mr. Bultitude, however, as has been explained,
id not appreciate children—being a family man
imself. When one sees their pretty squabbles and
jalousies, hears their cruel din, and pays for their
nonkeyish mischief, perhaps the daintiest children
eem but an earthly order of cherubim. He was
>nly annoyed and embarrassed by the interruption,
hough he endured it.
"Ah, "he said with condescension, "and soyou're
)r. Grimstone's little girl, are you? How d'ye do,
ay dear?"
Dulcie stopped and looked at him, with drawn
yebrows and her soft mouth quivering. "What
takes you talk like that?" she asked.
"How ought I to talk?" said Paul.
"You didn't talk like that before," said Dulcie
94
VICE VERSA.
plaintively. "I—I thought perhaps you'd be glad
to see me. You were once. And—and—when you
went away last you asked me to—to—kiss you,
and I did, and I wish I hadn't. And you gave
me a ginger with your name written on it in lead
pencil, and I gave you a cough-lozenge with mine;
and you said it was to show that you were my
sweetheart and I was yours. But I suppose you've
eaten the one I gave you?"
"This is dreadful!" thought Mr. Bultitude.
"What shall I do now? The child evidently takes
me for frhat little scoundrel Dick." "Tut-tut," he
said aloud, "little girls like you are too young
for such nonsense. You ought to think about—
about your dolls, and—ah, your needle-work—not
sweethearts!"
"You say that now!" cried Dulcie indignantly.
"You know I'm not a little girl, and I've left off
playing with dolls —■ almost. Oh, Dick, don't be
unkind! You haven't changed your mind, have
you ?"
"No," said Paul dismally, "I've changed my
body. But there — you wouldn't understand.
Run away and play somewhere, like a good little
girl!"
"I know what it is!" said Dulcie. "You've
been out to parties, or somewhere, and seen some
horrid girl. . . . you like .... better than me!"
"This is absurd, you know," said Mr. Bulti¬
tude. "You can't think how absurd it is! Now,
you'll be a very foolish little girl if you cry.
DISGRACE.
95
fou're making a mistake. I'm not the Dick you
ised to know!"
"I know you're not!" sobbed Dulcie. "But
>h, Dick, you will be. Promise me you will be!"
knd, to Paul's horror and alarm, she put her
irms round his neck, and cried piteously on his
houlder.
"Good gracious!" he cried, "let me go. Don't
lo that, for Heaven's sake! I can hear some one
:oming. If it's your father, it will ruin me!"
But it was too late. Over her head he saw
Tipping enter the room, and stand glaring at them
nenacingly. Dulcie saw him too, and sprang away
:o the window where she tried to dry her eyes
inperceived, and then ran past him with a hurried
jood morning, and escaped, leaving Paul alone
vith the formidable Tipping.
There was an awkward silence at first, which
Tipping broke by saying, "What have you been
saying to make her cry, eh?"
"What's that to you, sir?" said Paul, trying
:o keep his voice firm.
"Why, it's just this to me," said Tipping,
'that I've been spoons on Dulcie myself ever
since I came, and she never would have a word
to say to me. I never could think why, and now
t turns out to be you! What do you mean by
:utting me out like this! I heard her call you
dear Dick.'"
"Don't be an ass, sir 1" said Paul angrily.
"Now, none of your cheek, you know!" said
Tipping, edging up against him with a dangerous
96
VICE \ EKSA.
inclination to first jostle aggressively, and then
maul his unconscious rival. "You just mind what
I say. I'm not going to have Dulcie bothered
by a young beggar in the second form; she de¬
serves something better than that, anyway, and I
tell you that if I once catch you talking to her
in the way you did just now, or if I hear of her
favouring ,you more than any other fellows, I'll
give you the very best licking you ever had in
your life. So look out!"
At this point the other boys began to straggle
down and cluster round the fire, and Paul with¬
drew from the aggrieved Tipping, and looked
drearily out of the window on the hard road and
bare black trees outside.
"I must tell the Doctor how I'm situated!"
he thought; "and yet directly I open my mouth,
he threatens to flog me. If I stay here, that
little girl will be always trying to speak to me, and
I shall be thrashed by the red-haired boy. If I
could only manage to speak out after breakfast!"
It was not without satisfaction that he re¬
membered that he paid extra for "meat for break¬
fast" in his son's school-bills, for he was beginning
to look forward to meal-time with the natural de¬
sire of a young and healthy frame for nourish¬
ment.
At eight o'clock the Doctor came in and an¬
nounced breakfast, leading the way himself to
what was known in the school as the "Dining
Hall." It scarcely deserved so high-sounding a
name perhaps, being a long low room on the
DISGRACE.
97
basement floor, with a big fireplace, fitted with
taps and baking ovens, which provoked the sus¬
picion that it had begun existence as a back
kitchen.
The Doctor took his seat alone at a cross
table forming the top of oae of the two rows of
tables, set with white cups and saucers, and plates
well heaped with the square pieces of bread and
butter, while Mrs. Grimstone, with Dulcie and
Tom, sat at the foot at the same row, behind two
ugly urns of dull block-tin.
But when Mr. Bultitude, more hungry than
he had felt for years, found his place at one of
the tables, he was disgusted to find upon his
plate—not, as he had confidently expected, a
couple of plump poached eggs, with their appe¬
tising contrast of ruddy gold and silvery white,
not a crisp and crackling sausage or a mottled
omelette, not even the homely but luscious rasher,
but a brace of chill forbidding sardines, floating
grim and headless in bilious green oil!
It was a fish he positively loathed, nor could
it be reasonably expected that the confidence ne¬
cessary for a declaration was to be begotten by
so sepulchral a form of nutriment.
He roused himself, however, to swallow them,
together with some of the thin and tin-flavoured
coffee. But the meal as a whole was so different
from the plentiful well-cooked breakfast he had
sat down before for years as a matter of course,
that it made him feel extremely unwell.
No talking was allowed during the meal
H
98
VICE VERSA.
The Doctor now and then looked up from his
dish of kidneys on toast (at which envious glances
were occasionally cast) to address a casual remark
to his wife across the long row of plates and
cups, but, as a rule, the dull champing sound of
boys solemnly and steadily munching, was all that
broke the silence.
Towards the end, when the plates had been
generally cleared, and the boys sat staring with
the stolidity of repletion at one another across
the tables, the junior house-master, Air. Tinkler,
made his appearance. He had lately left a small
and little-known college at Cambridge, where he
had contrived, contrary to expectation, to evade
the uncoveted wooden spoon by just two places,
which enabled the Doctor to announce himself as
being "assisted by a graduate of the University
of Cambridge who has taken honours in the Ma¬
thematical Tripos.'"
For the rest, he was a small insignificant-
looking person, who evidently disliked the notice
his late appearance drew upon himself.
"Mr. Tinkler," said the Doctor in his most
awful voice, "if it were my custom to rebuke my
assistants before the school t which it is not\ I
should feel forced to remind you that this tardiness
in rising is a bad beginning of the day's work,
and sets a bad example to those under your
authority."
Mr. Tinkler made no articulate reply, but sat
down with a crushed expression, and set himself
to devour bread and butter with an energy which
DISGRACE.
99
lie hoped would divert attention from his blushes;
and almost immediately the Doctor looked at his
watch and said, "Now, boys, you have half-an-hour
for 'chevy'—make the most of it. When you
come in I shall have something to say to you
all Don't rise, Mr. Tinkler, unless you have quite
finished."
Mr. Tinkler preferred leaving his breakfast to
continuing it under the trying ordeal of his prin¬
cipal's inspection. So, hastily murmuring that lie
had "made an excellent breakfast"—which he had
not—he followed the others, who clattered upstairs
to put on their boots and go out into the play¬
ground.
It was noticeable that they did so without much
of the enthusiasm which might be looked for from
boys dismissed to their sports. But the fact was
that this particular sport, "chevy," commonly
known as "prisoners' base," was by no means a
popular amusement, being of a somewhat mono¬
tonous nature, and calling for no special skill on
the part of the performers. Besides this, more¬
over, it had the additional disadvantage (which
would have been fatal to a far more fascinating
diversion) of being in a great measure compulsory.
Football and cricket were of course reserved
for half-holidays, and played in a neighbouring
field rented by the Doctor, and in the playground
he restricted them to "chevy," which he considered,
rightly enough, both gave them abundant exercise
and kept them out of mischief. Accordingly, if
any adventurous spirit started a rival game, it was
ID
lOO
VICE VERSA.
usually abandoned sooner or later in deference to
suggestions from head-quarters which were not in¬
tended to be disregarded.
This, though undoubtedly well meant, did not
serve to stimulate their affection for the game, an
excellent one in moderation, but one which, if
played "by special desire" two or three hours a
day for weeks in succession, is apt to lose its
freshness and pall upon the youthful mind.
It was a bright morning. There had been a
bard frost during the night, and the ground was
hard, sparkling with rime and ringing to the foot.
The air was keen and invigorating, and the bare
black branches of the trees were outlined clear and
sharp against the pale pure blue of the mornng sky.
Just the weather for a long day's skating over
the dark green glassy ice, or a bracing tramp on
country roads into cheer;, red-roofed market towns.
But now it had lost all power to charm. It was
only depressing by the contrast between the
boundless liberty suggested, and the dull reality
of a round of uninteresting work which was all it
heralded.
So they lounged listlessly about, gravitating
finally towards the end of the playground, where
a deep furrow marked the line of the base. There
was no attempt to play. They stood gossiping
in knots, grumbling and stamping their feet to
keep warm. By-and-by the day-boarders began
to drop in one by one, several of them, from a
want of tact in adapting themselves to the general
tone, earning decided unpopularity at once by a
disgrace.
101
cheerful briskness and an undisguised satisfaction
at having something definite to do once more.
If Mr. Tinkler, who had joined one of the
groups, had not particularly distinguished himself
at breakfast, he made ample amends now, and by
the grandeur and manliness of his conversation
succeeded in producing a decided impression upon
some of the smaller boys.
"The bore of a place like this, you know,"
he was saying with magnificent disdain, "is that
a fellow can't have his pipe of a morning. I've
been used to it, and so, of course, I miss it. If
I chose to insist on it Grimstone couldn't say
anything; but with a lot of young fellows like
you, you see, it wouldn't look well!"
It could hardly have looked worse than little
Mr. Tinkler himself would have done, if he had
ventured upon more than the mildest of cigarettes,
for he was a poor but pertinacious smoker, and
his love for the weed was chastened by wholesome
fear. There, however, he was in no danger of
betraying this, and indeed it would have been in¬
judicious to admit it.
"Talking of smoking," he went on, with a soft
chuckle, as at recollections of unspeakable devilry,
"did I ever tell you chaps of a tremendous scrape
I very nearly got into up at the 'Varsity? Well,
you must know there's a foolish rule there against
smoking in the streets. Not that that made any
difference to some of us! Well, one night about
nine, I was strolling down Petty Cury with two
other men, smoking, pBosher of 'Pothouse,' and
102
VICE VERSA.
Peebles of 'Cats,' both pretty well known up there
for general rowdiness, you know-—dear old friends
of mine!) and, just as we turned the corner, who
should we see coming straight down on us but a
Proctor with his bulldogs (not dogs, you know,
but the strongest 'gyps' in college). Bosher said,
'Let's cut it!' and he and Peebles bolted. (They
were neither of them funks, of course, but they
lost their heads.) I went calmly on, smoking my
cigar as if nothing was the matter. That put the
Proctor in a bait, I can tell you! He came fuming
up to me. 'What do you mean, sir,' says he,
quite pale with anger (he was a great bull-headed
fellow, one of the strongest dons of his year, that's
why they made him a Proctor) — 'what do you
mean by breaking the University Statutes in this
way?' 'It is a fine evening,' said I (I was deter¬
mined to keep cool). 'Do you mean to insult me?'
said he. 'No, old boy,' said, J, 'I don't; have a cigar?'
He couldn't stand that, so he called up his bull¬
dogs. 'I give him in charge!' he screamed out.
'I'll have him sent down!' 'I'll send you down first,'
said I, and I just gave him a push—I never meant
to hurt the fellow—and over he went. I rolled
over a bulldog to keep him company, and, as
the other fellow didn't want any more and stood
aside to led me pass, I finished my stroll and my
cigar."
"Was the Proctor hurt, sir?" inquired a small
boy with great respect.
"More frightened than hurt, I always said,"
said Mr. Tinkler lightly, "but somehow he never
DISGRACE.
would proctorise any more—it spoilt his nerve.
He was a good deal chaffed about it, but of
course no one ever knew I'd had anything to do
with it 1"
With such tales of Homeric exploit did Mr.
Tinkler inculcate a spirit of discipline and respect
for authority. But although he had indeed once
encountered a Proctor, and at night, he did him¬
self great injustice by this version of the proceedings,
which were, as a matter of fact, of a most peace¬
able and law-abiding character, and though followed
by a pecuniary transaction the next day in which
six-and-eightpence changed pockets, the Proctors
continued their duties much as before, while Mr.
Tinkler's feelings towards them, which had ever
been reverential in the extreme, were, if anything,
intensified by the experience.
Upon this incident, however, he had gradually
embroidered the above exciting episode, until he
grew to believe at intervals that he really had
been a devil of a fellow in his time, which, to do
him justice, was far from being the case.
He might have gone on still further to
calumniate himself, and excite general envy and
admiration thereby, if at that moment Dr. Grim-
stone had not happened to appear at the head
of the cast-iron staircase that led down into the
playground; whereupon Mr. Tinkler affected to be
intensely interested in the game, which, as a kind
of involuntary compliment to the principal, about
this time was galvanised into a sort of vigour.
But the Doctor, after frowning gloomily
104
VICE VERSA.
down upon them for a minute or so, suddenly
called "All in!"
lie had several ways of saying this. Some¬
times he would do so in a half-regretful tone, as
one himself obeying the call of duty; sometimes
he would appear for some minutes, a benignant
spectator, upon the balcony, and summon them
to work at length with a lenient pity—for he was
by no means a hard-hearted man; but at other
times he would step sharply and suddenly out
and shout the word of command with a grim and
ominous expression. On these last occasions the
school generally prepared itself for a rather formi¬
dable quarter of an hour.
This was the case now and, as a further
portent, Mr. Blinkhorn was observed to come
down and, after a few words with Mr. Tinkler,
withdraw with him through the school gate.
"He's sent them out for a walk," said Siggers,
who was skilled in omens. "It's a row!"
Rows at Crichton House, although periodical,
and therefore things to be forearmed against in
some degree, were serious matters. Dr. Grimstone
was a quick-tempered man, with a copious flow of
words and a taste for indulging it. He was also
strongly prejudiced against many breaches of dis¬
cipline which others might have considered trifhng,
and whenever he had discovered any such breach
he could not rest until by all the means in his
power he had ascertained exactly how man)' were
implicated in the offence, and to what extent.
His usual method of doing this was to summon
DISGRACE.
105
the school formally together and deliver an elaborate
harangue, during which he worked himself by
degrees into such a state of indignation that his
hearers were most of them terrified out of their
senses, and very often conscience-stricken offenders
would give themselves up as hopelessly detected
and reveal transgressions altogether unsuspected
by him—much as a net brings up fish of all
degrees of merit, or as heavy firing will raise
drowned corpses to the surface.
Paul naturally knew nothing of this peculiarity,
he had kept himself as usual apart from the others,
and was now trying to compel himself to brave
the terrors of an avowal at the first opportunity.
He followed the others up the steps with an
uneasy wonder whether, after all, he would not
find himself ignominiously set down to learn lessons.
The boys filed into the schoolroom in solemn
silence, and took their seats at the desks and
along the brown tables. The Doctor was there
before them, standing up with one elbow resting
upon a reading-stand, and with a suggestion of
coming thunder in his look and attitude that,
combined with the oppressive silence, made some
of the boys feel positively ill.
Presently he began. He said that, since they
had come together again, he had made a discovery
concerning one among them which, astounding as
it was to him, and painful as he felt it to be
compelled to make it known, concerned them all
to be aware of.
Mr. Pultitude could scarcely believe his ears.
\o6
VICE VERSA.
His secret was discovered, then; the injury done
him by Dick about to be repaired, and open
restitution and apology offered him! It was not
perhaps precisely delicate on the Doctor's part to
make so public an affair of it, but so long as it
ended well, he could afford to overlook that.
So he settled himself comfortably on a form
with his back against a desk and his legs crossed,
his expression indicating plainly that he knew
what was coming and, on the whole, approved
of it.
"Ever since I have devoted myself to the
cause of tuition," continued the Doctor, "I have
made it my object to provide boys under my
roof with fare so abundant and so palatable that
they should have no excuse for obtaining extra¬
neous luxuries. I have presided myself at their
meals, I have superintended their very sports with
a fatherly eye "
Here he paused, and fixed one or two of
those nearest him with the fatherly eye in such a
manner that they writhed with confusion.
"He's wandering from the point," thought
Paul, a little puzzled.
"I have done all this on one understanding—
that the robustness of your constitutions, acquired
by the plain, simple, but abundant regimen of my
table, shall not be tampered with by the indulgence
in any of the pampering products of confectionery.
They are absolutely and unconditionally prohibited
—as every boy who hears me now knows perfectly
well 1"
DISGRACE.
10;
"And yet," there he began gradually to relax
his self-restraint and lash himself into a frenzy of
indignation), "what do I find? There are some
natures so essentially base, so incapable of being
affected by kindness, so dead to honour and
generosity, that the}' will not scruple to conspire
or set themselves individually to escape and baffle
the wise precautions undertaken for their benefit.
I will not name the dastards at present—they
themselves can look into their hearts and see their
guilt reflected there "
At this every boy, beginning to see the
tendency of his denunciations, tried hard to
assume an air of conscious innocence and grieved
interest, the majority achieving conspicuous failure.
"I do not like to think," said Dr. Grimstone,
"that the evil has a wider existence than I yet
know of. It may be so; nothing will surprise me
now. There ma)' be some before me trembling
with the consciousness of secret guilt. If so, let
those boys make the only reparation in their
power, and give themselves up in an honourable
and straightforward manner!"
To this invitation, which indeed resembled that
of the duck-destroying Mrs. llor.d, no one made
any response. They had grown too wary, and
now preferred to play a waiting game.
"Then let the being—for 1 will not call him
boy—who is known to me, step forth and confess
his fault publicly, and sue for pardon!" thundered
the Doctor, now warmed to his theme.
VICE VERSA.
But the being declined from a feeling of
modesty, and a faint hope that somebody else
might, after all, be the person aimed at.
"Then I name him!" stormed Dr. Grimstone;
"Cornelius Coggs— stand up!"
Coggs half rose in a limp manner, whimpering
feebly, "Me, sir? Oh, please sir—no, not
me, sir!"
"Yes, you, sir, and let your companions
regard you with the contempt and abhorrence you
so richly merit!" Here, needless to say, the whole
school glared at poor Coggs with as much virtuous
indignation as they could summon up at such short
notice; for contempt is very infectious when
communicated from high quarters.
"So, Coggs," said the Doctor, with a slow
and withering scorn, "so you thought to defy me;
to smuggle compressed illness and concentrated
unhealthiness into this school with impunity? You
flattered yourself that after I had once confiscated
your contraband poisons, you would hear no more
of it! You deceived yourself, sir! I tell you, once
for all, that I will not allow you to contaminate
your innocent schoolmates with your gifts of
surreptitious sweetmeats; they shall not be perverted
with your pernicious peppermints, sir; you shall
not deprave them by the subtle and insidious
jujube, or by the cheap but cloying Turkish
Delight! I will not expose myself or them to the
inroads of disease invited here by a hypocritical
inmate of my walls. The traitor shall have his
reward!"
DiSWKACE.
109
All of which simply meant that the Doctor,
having once had a small boy taken seriously ill
from the effects of overeating himself, was
naturally anxious to avoid such an inconvenience
for the future. "Thanks to the fearless honesty
of a youth," continued the Doctor, "who, in an
eccentric manner certainly, but with, I do not
doubt, the best of motives, opened my eyes to
the fell evil, I am enabled to cope with it at its
birth. Richard Bultitude, I take this occasion of
publicly thanking and commending you; your
conduct was noble!"
Mr. Bultitude was too angry and disappointed
to speak. He had thought his path was going to
be made smooth, and now all this ridiculous fuss
was being made about a few peppermint lozenges.
He wished he had never mentioned them. It was
not the last time he breathed that wish. "As for
you, Coggs," said the Doctor, suddenly producing
a lithe brown cane, "I shall make a public
example of you."
Coggs stared idiotically and protested, but
after a short and painful scene, was sent off up to
his bedroom, yelping like a kicked puppy.
"One word more," said the Doctor, now
almost calm again. "I know that you all think
with me in your horror of the treachery I have
just exposed I know that you would scorn to
participate in it." (A thrill and murmur, expressive
of intense horror and scorn, went round the
benches. ) "You are anxious to prove that you do so
beyond a doubt." (^Again a murmur of assent.'i "I
I IO
VICE VERSA.
give you all that opportunity. I have implicit trust
and confidence in you—let every boarder go down
into the box-room and fetch up his playbox, as
it is, and open it here before me."
There was a general fall of jaws at this very
unexpected conclusion; but contriving to overcome
their dismay, they went outside and down through
the playground into the box-room, Paul amongst
the rest, and amidst universal confusion, everyone
opened his box, and, with a consideration especially
laudable in heedless boyhood, thoughtfully and
carefully removed from it all such dainties as might
be calculated to shock or pain their preceptor.
Mr. Bultitude found a key which was labelled
"playbox," and began to open a box which bore
Dick's initials cut upon the lid; without any
apprehensions, however, for he had given too
strict orders to his daughter, to fear that any
luxuries would be concealed there.
But no sooner had he raised the lid than he
staggered back with disgust. It was crammed with
cakes, butterscotch, hardbake, pots of jam, and
even a bottle of ginger wine—enough to com¬
promise a chameleon!
He set himself to pitch them all out as soon
as possible with feverish haste, but Tipping was
too quick for him. "Hallo!" he cried: "oh, I say,
you fellows, come here! Just look at this! Here's
this impudent young beggar, who sneaked of poor
old Coggs for sucking jujubes, and very nearly got
us all into a jolly good row, with his own box
full all the time; butterscotch, if you please, and
DISGRACE.
I I I
jam, and ginger wine! You'll just put 'em all
back again, will you, you young humbug!"
"Do you use those words to me, sir?" said
Paul angrily, for he did not like to be called a
humbug.
"Yes, sir, please, sir," jeered Tipping; "I did
venture to take such a liberty, sir."
"Then it was like your infernal impudence,"
growled Paul. "You be kind enough to leave my
affairs alone. Upon my word, what boys are coming
to now-a-daysl"
"Are you going to put that tuck back?" said
Tipping impatiently.
"No, sir, Pm not. Don't interfere with what
you're not expected to understand!"
"Well, if you won't," said Tipping easily, "I
suppose we must. Biddlecomb, kindly knock him
down, and sit on his head while I fill his playbox
for him."
This was neatly and quickly done. Biddle¬
comb tripped Mr. Bultitude up, and sat firmly on
him, while Tipping carefully replaced the good
things in Dick's box, after which he locked it,
and courteously returned the key. "As the box is
heavy," he said, with a wicked wink, "I'll carry
it up for you myself," which he did, Paul follow¬
ing, more dead than alive, and too shaken even
to expostulate.
"Bultitude's box was rather too heavy for
him, sir," he explained as he came in; and Dr.
Grimstone, who had quite recovered his equanimity,
I I 2
VICE VERSA.
smiled indulgently, and remarked that he "liked
to see the strong assisting the weak."
All the boxes had by this time been brought
up, and were ranged upon the tables, while the
Doctor went round, making an almost formal
inspection, like a Custom House officer searching
compatriots, and becoming milder and milder as
box after box opened to reveal a fair and inno¬
cent interior.
Paul's turn was coming very near, and his
heart seemed to shrivel like a burst bladder. lie
fumbled with his key, and tried hard to lose it.
It was terrible to have oneself to apply the match
which is to blow one to the winds. If—if—the
idea was almost too horrible—but if he, a blame¬
less and respectable city merchant, were ac¬
tually to find himself served like the miserable
Coggs!
At last the Doctor actually stood by him.
"Well, my boy," he said, not unkindly, "I'm not
afraid of anything wrong here, at any rate."
Mr. Bultitude, who had the best reasons for
not sharing his confidence, made some inarticulate
sounds, and pretended to have a difficulty in turn¬
ing the key.
"Eh? Come, open the box," said the Doctor
with an altered manner. "What are you fumbling
at it for in this—this highly suspicious manner?
I'll open it myself,"
He took the key and opened the lid, when
the cakes and wine stood revealed in all their
damning profusion. The Doctor stepped back dra-
DISGRACE.
I'3
matically. "Hardbake!" he gasped; "wine, pots of
strawberry jam! Oh, Eultitude, this is well—vastly
well indeed! So I have nourished one more
viper in my bosom, have I? A crawling reptile
which curries favour by denouncing the very
crime it conceals in its playbox! Oh, this is
black duplicity! Eultitude, I was not prepared
for this!"
"I—E swear I never put them in!" protested the
unhappy Paul. "I I never touch such things;
they would bring on my gout in half-an-hour. It's
ridiculous to punish me. I never knew they were
there!"
"Then why were you so anxious to avoid
opening the box?" rejoined the Doctor. "No, sir
you're too ingenious; your guilt is clear. Go
to your dormitory, and wait there till I come
to you!"
Paul went upstairs, feeling utterly abandoned
and helpless. Though a woid as to his i;eal
character might have saved him, he could not
have said it, and, worse still, knew now that he
could not.
"I shall be caned," he told himself, and the
thought nearly drove him mad. "I know I shall
be caned! What on earth shall I do?"
He opened the door of his bedroom. Coggs
was rocking and moaning on his bed in one corner
of the room, but looked up with red furious eyes
as Paul came in.
"What do you want up here?" he said sa
vagely. "Go away, can't you!"
I
114
\ ICE VERS \.
"I wish I could go away," said Paul dole¬
fully; "but I'm—hum—I'm sent up here too," he
explained, with some natural embarrassment.
"What!" cried Coggs, slipping off his bed and
staring wildly: "you don't mean to say you're
going to catch it too?"
"I've—ah—every reason to fear," said Mr.
Bultitude stiffly, "that I am indeed going to 'catch
it,' as you call it."
"Hooray!" shouted Coggs hysterically: "I don't
care now. And I'll have some revenge on my own
account as well. I don't mind an extra licking,
and you're in for one as it is. Will you stand up
to me or not?"
"I don't understand you," said Paul. "Don't
come so near. Keep off, you young demon, will
you!" he cried presently, as Coggs, exasperated
by all his wrongs, was rushing at him with an
evidently hostile intent. "There, don't be annoyed,
my good boy," he pleaded, catching up a chair
as a bulwark. "It was a misunderstanding. I wish
you no harm. There, my dear young friend!
Don't!"
The "dear young friend" was grappling with
him and attempting to wrest the chair away by
brute force. "When I get at you," he said, his
hot breath hissing through the chair rungs, "I'll
give you the very warmest spanking you ever
heard of!"
"Murder!" Paul gasped, feeling his hold on
the chair relaxing. "Unless help comes this young
fiend will have my blood!"
learning and accomplishments.
115
They were revolving slowly round the chair,
watching each other's eyes like gladiators, when
I'aul noticed a sudden blankness and fixity in his
antagonist's expression, and, looking round, saw
Dr. Grimstone's awful form framed in the door¬
way, and gave himself up for lost.
CHAPTER VI.
learning and accomplishments.
4,I subscribe to Lucian: His an elegant thing which cleareth
up the mind, exerciseth the body, delights the spectators,
which teacheth many comely gestures, equally affecting the
ears, eyes, and soul itself.'
Burton, on Dancing.
"What is this?" asked Dr. Grimstone, in his
most blood-curdling tone, after a most impressive
pause at the dormitory door.
Mr P>ultitude held his tongue, but kept fast
hold of his chair, which he held before him as a
defence against either party, while Coggs remained
motionless in the centre of the room, with crooked
knees and hands dangling impotently.
"Will one of you be good enough to explain
how you come to be found struggling in this
unseemly manner? I sent you up here to meditate
on your past behaviour."
"I should be most happy to meditate, sir,"
protested Paul, lowering his chair on discovering
r
VICE VERSA.
that there was no immediate danger, "if that—
that bloodthirsty young ruffian there would allow
me to do so. T am going about in bodily fear
of him, Dr. Grimstone. I want him bound over
to keep the peace. I decline to be left alone
with him—he's not safe!"
"Is that so, Coggsr Are you mean and base
enough to take this cowardly revenge on a boy
who has had the moral courage to expose your
deceit—for your ultimate good—a boy how is
unable to defend himself against you?"
"lie can fight when he chooses, sir," said
Coggs; "he blacked my eye last term, sir!"
"I assure you," said Paul, with the convincing
earnestness of truth, "that I never blacked any¬
body's eye in the whole course of my life. I am
not—ah—a pugnacious man. My age, and—hum
— my position, ought to protect me from these
scandals "
"You've come back this year, sir," said Dr.
Grimstone, "with a very odd way of talking of
yourself—an exceedingly odd way. Unless I see
you abandoning it and behaving like a reasonable
boy again, I shall be forced to conclude you
intend some disrespect and open defiance by it."
"If you would allow me an opportunity of
explaining my position, sir," said Paul, "I would
undertake to clear your mind directly of such a
monstrous idea. I am trying to assert my rights,
Dr. Grimstone—my rights as a citizen, as a
householder! This is no place for me, and I ap-
LEARNING AND ACCOMPLISHMENTS. I I 7
peal to you to set me free. If you only knew
one tenth "
"Let us understand one another, Bultitude,"
interrupted the Doctor. "You may think it an
excellent joke to talk nonsense to me like this.
But let me tell you there is a point where a jest
becomes an insult. I've spared you hitherto out
of consideration for the feelings ol your excellent
father, who is so anxious that you should be¬
come an object of pride and credit to him; but
if you dare to treat me to any more of this
bombast about 'explaining your rights,' you will
force me to exercise one of mine—the right to
inflict corporal punishment, sir—which you have
just seen in operation upon another."
"Oh!" said Mr. Bultitude faintly, feeling utterly
crestfallen—and he could say nothing more.
"As for those illicit luxuries in your play-
box," continued the Doctor, "the fact that you
brought the box up as it was is in your favour;
and I am inclined on reflection to overlook the
affair, if you can assure me that you were no
party to their being put there?"
"On the contrary," said Paul, "I gave the
strictest orders that there was to be 110 such
useless extravagance. I objected to have the
kitchen and housekeeper's room ransacked to
make a set of rascally boys ill for a fortnight
at my expense!"
The Doctor stared slightly at this creditable
but unnatural view of the subject. However, as
he could not quarrel with the sentiment, he let
r iS
VICh. VKKSA.
the manner of expressing' it pass unrebuked for
the present and, after sentencing Coggs to two
day's detention and the copying of innumerable
French verbs, he sent the ill-matched pair down
to the schoolroom to join their respective classes.
Paul went resignedly downstairs and into the
room, where he found Mr. Blinkhorn at the head
of one of the long tables, taking a class of about
a dozen boys.
"Take your Livy and Latin Primer, Bultitude,"
said Mr. Blinkhorn mildly, "and sit down."
Mr. Blinkhorn was a tall angular man, with
a long neck and slightly drooping head. He had
thin wiry brown hair, and a plain face, with short¬
sighted, kind brown eyes. In character he was
mild and reserved, too conscientious to allow him¬
self the luxury of either favourites or aversions
among the boys, all of whom in his secret soul
he probably disliked about equally, though he
neither said nor did anything to show it.
Paul took a book—any book, for he did not
know or care to know one from another—and sat
down at the end furthest from the master, in¬
wardly rebelling at having education thus forced
upon him at his advanced years, but seeing no
escape.
"At dinner time," he resolved desperately, "I
will insist on speaking out, but just now it is simply
prudent to humour them."
The rest of the class drew away from him
with marked coldness, and occasionally saluted him
(when Mr. Blinkhorn's attention was called awayj
LEARNING AND ACCOMPLISHMENTS. I 19
with terms and grimaces which Paul, although he
failed to thoroughly understand them, felt instinct¬
ively were not intended as compliments,
Mr. Blinkhorn's notions of discipline were
qualified by a gentleman's instinct which forbade
him to harass a boy already 111 trouble, as he
understood young Bultitude had been, and so he
forbore from pressing him to take any share in
class work.
Mr. Bultitude therefore was saved from any
necessity of betraying his total ignorance of his
author, and sat gloomily on the hard form, im¬
patiently watching the minute-hand skulk round
the mean dull face of the clock above the chimney-
piece, while around him one boy after another
droned out a listless translation of the work be¬
fore him, interrupted by mild corrections and
comments from the master.
What a preposterous change from all his or¬
dinary habits! At this very time, only twenty-
four hours since, he was stepping slowly and
majestically towards his accustomed omnibus, which
was waiting with deference for him to overtake
it; he was taking his seat, saluted respectfully by
the conductor and cheerily by his fellow-pas¬
sengers, as a man of recognised mark and po¬
sition.
Now that omnibus would halt at the corner
of Westbourne Terrace in vain, and go 011 its
way Bankwards without him. fie was many miles
away—in the very last place where anyone would
120
VICE VERSA.
be likely to look for him, occupying the post of
"whipping-boy" to his miserable son!
Was ever an inoffensive and respectable old
gentleman placed in a more false and ridiculous
position ?
If he had only kept his drawer locked, and
hidden the abominable Garuda Stone away from
Dick's prying eyes; if he had let the moralising
alone; if Boaler had not been so long fetching that
cab, or if he had not happened to faint at the
critical moment—what an immense difference any
one of these apparent trifles would have made.
And now what was he to do to get out of
this incongruous and distasteful placer It was all
very well to say that he had only to insist upon
a hearing from the Doctor, but what if, as he had
very grave reason to fear, the Doctor should ab¬
solutely refuse to listen, should even proceed to
carry out his horrible threat? Must he remain there
till the holidays came to release him ? Suppose
Dick—as he certainly would unless he was quite
a fool — declined to receive him during the holi¬
days ? It was absolutely necessary to return home
at once; every additional hour he passed in im¬
prisonment made it harder to regain his lost self.
Now and then he roused himself from all
these gloomy thoughts to observe his companions.
The boys at the upper end, near Mr. Blinkhorn,
were fairly- attentive, and he noticed one small
smug-faced boy about half-way up, who, while a
class mate was faltering and blundering over some
question, would stretch out a snapping finger and
LEARNING AND ACCOMPLISHMENTS. 121
thumb, and cry, "I know, sir. Let me tell him.
Ask me, sir!" in a restless agony of superior in¬
formation.
Down by Paul, however, the discipline was
relaxed enough, as perhaps could only be expected
on the first day of term. One wild-eyed long¬
haired boy had brought out a small china figure
with which, and the assistance of his right hand
draped in a pocket handkerchief, and wielding a
penholder, he was busy enacting a drama based on
the lines of Punch and Judy, to the breathless
amusement of his neighbours.
Mr. Bultitude might have hoped to escape
notice by a policy of judicious self-effacement, but
unhappily his long, blank, uninterested face was held
by his companions to bear an implied reproach;
being delicately sensitive on these points, they kicked
his legs viciously, which made him extremely glad
when dinner-time came, although he felt too faint
and bilious to be tempted by anything but the
lightest and daintiest luncheon.
Rut at dinner he found, with a shudder, that
he was expected to swallow a thick ragged section
of boiled mutton, which had been carved and helped
so long before he sat down to it, that the stagnant
gravy was chilled and congealed into patches of
greasy white.
He managed to swallow it with many pauses
of invincible disgust — only to find it replaced by
a solid slab of pale brow n suet pudding, sparsely
bedewed with unctuous black treacle.
This, though a plentiful, and by no means
I
VICE VERSA.
unwholesome fare for growing boys, was not what
lie had been accustomed to, and unwell after it to
venture upon an encounter with the Doctor, he
wandered slow and melancholy round the bare
gravelled playground during the half-hour after
dinner devoted to the inevitable "chevy," until the
Doctor appeared at the head of the staircase.
It is always sad for the historian to have to
record a departure from principle, and I have to
confess with shame on Mr. Bultitude's account that,
feeling the Doctor's eye upon him, and striving
to propitiate him, he humiliated himself so far as
to run about with an elaborate affectation of zest,
and his exertions were rewarded by hearing him¬
self cordially encouraged to further efforts.
It cheered and emboldened him. "I've put
him in a good temper," he told himself; "if I can
only keep him in one till the evening, I really
think I might be able to go up and tell him what
a ridiculous mess I've got into. Why should I
care, after all? At least I've done nothing to be
ashamed of. It's an accident that might have
happened to any man!"
It is a curious and unpleasant tiling that,
however reassuring and convincing .he arguments
may be with which we succeed in bracing ourselves
to meet or disregard unpleasantness, the force of
those arguments seldom or never outlasts the frame
of mind in which the)- are composed, and when
the unpleasantness is at hand, there we are, just
as unreasonably alarmed at it as ever.
Mr. Bultitude's confidence faded awav almost
LEARNING AND ACCOMPLISHMENTS.
123
as soon as he found himself in the schoolroom
again. He found himself assigned to a class at
one end of the room, where Mr. Tinkler presently
introduced a new rule in Algebra to them, in such
a manner as to procure for it a lasting unpopu¬
larity with all those who were not too much en¬
gaged in drawing duels and railway trains upon
their slates to attend.
Although Paul did not draw upon his slate,
his utter ignorance of Algebra prevented him from
being much edified by the cabalistic signs 011 the
blackboard, which Mr. Tinkler seemed to chalk
up dubiously, and rub out again as soon as pos¬
sible, with an air of being ashamed of them. So
he tried to nerve himself for the coming ordeal by
furtively watching and studying the Doctor, who
was taking a Xenophon class at the upper end of
the room, and, being in fairly good humour, was
combining instruction with amusement in a manner
peculiarly his own.
He stopped the construing occasionally to
illustrate some word or passage by an anecdote;
he condescended to enliven the translation here
and there by a familiar and colloquial paraphrase;
he magnanimously refrained from pressing any
obviously inconvenient questions; and his manner
generally was marked bv a geniality which was
additionally piquant from its extreme uncertainty,
Mr. Bultitude could not Help thinking it a
rather ghastly form of gaiety, but he hoped it
might last.
Presently, however, some one brought him a
124
VICE VERSA.
long blue envelope on a tray. He read it, and a
frown gathered on his face. The boy who was
translating at the time went on again in his former
slipshod manner i which had hitherto provoked only
jovial criticism and correction) with complete self-
complacency, but found himself sternly brought to
book, and burdened by a heavy imposition, be¬
fore he quite realised that his blunders had ceased
to amuse.
Then began a season of sore trial and tribu¬
lation for the class. The Doctor suddenly with¬
drew the light of his countenance from them, and
sunshine was succeeded by blackest thunderclouds.
The wind was no longer tempered to the more
closely shorn of the flock; the weakest vessels
were put on unexpectedly at crucial passages, and,
coming hopelessly to grief, were denounced as
impostors and idlers, till half the class was dis¬
solved in tears.
A few of the better grounded stood the fire,
like a remnant of the Old Guard in the Peninsula.
With faces pale from alarm, and trembling voices,
but perfect accuracy, they answered all the
Doctor's searching inquiries after the paradigms
of Greek verbs that seemed irregular to the verge
of impropriety.
Paul saw it all with renewed misgiving. "If I
were there," he thought, "I should have been run
out and flogged long ago! How angry those stupid
young idiots are making him! How can I go up
and speak to him when he's like that? And yet
I must. I am sitting on dynamite as it is. The
LEARNING AND ACCOMPLISHMENTS. 125
very first time they want me to answer any
questions from some of their books, I shall be
ruined! Why wasn't I better educated when I
was a boy, or why didn't I make a better use
of my opportunities! It will be a bitter thing
if they thrash me for not knowing as much as
Dick. Grimstone's coming this way now; it's all
over with me!"
The Greek class had managed to repel the
enemy, with some loss to themselves, and the
Doctor now left his place for a moment, and
came down towards the bench on which l'aul sat
trembling.
The storm, however, had passed over for
the present, and he only said with restored calm¬
ness, "Who were the boys who learnt dancing last
term ?"
One or two of them said they had done so, and
Dr. Grimstone continued: "Mr. Burdekin was un¬
able to give you the last lesson of his course last
term, and has arranged to take you to-day, as
he will be in the neighbourhood. So be oft" at
once to Mrs. Grimstone and change your shoes.
Bultitude, you learnt last term, too. Go with the
others."
Mr. Bultitude was too overcome by this un¬
expected attack to contradict it, though of course
he was quite able to do so; but then, if he had,
he must have explained all, and he felt strongly
that just then was neither the time nor the place
for particulars.
It would have been wiser perhaps, it would
I2f>
VICE VERSA.
certainly have brought matters to a crisis, if he
could have forced himself to tell everything—the
whole truth in all its outrageous improbability—
but lie could not.
Let those who feel inclined to blame him for
lack of firmness consider how difficult and delicate
a business it must almost of necessity be for any¬
one to declare openly, in the teeth of common
sense and plain facts, that there has been a mis¬
take, and, in point of fact, he is not his own son,
but his own father,
"I suppose I must go," he thought. "I
needn't dance. Haven't danced since I was a
young man. But I can't afford to offend him
just now."
And so he followed the rest into a sort of
cloak-room, where the tall hats which the boys
wore 011 Sundays were all kept on shelves in white
bandboxes; and there his hair was brushed, his
feet were thrust into very patent leather shoes,
and a pair of kid gloves were given out to him
to put on.
The dancing lesson was to be held in the
"Dining Hall," from which the savour of mutton
had not altogether departed. When Paul came in
he found the floor cleared and the tables and forms
piled up on one side of the room.
Biddlecomb and Tipping and some- of the
smaller boys were there already, their gloves and
shiny shoes giving them a feeling of ceremony and
constraint which they tried to carry off by an un¬
couth parody of politeness.
LEARNING AND ACCOMPLISHMENTS. 12J
Signers was telling stories of the dances he
had been to in town, and the fine girls whose step
had exactly suited his own, and Tipping was lean¬
ing gloomily against the wall listening to some¬
thing Chawner was whispering in his ear.
There was a rustle of dresses down the stairs
outside, and two thin little girls, looking excess¬
ively proper and prim, came in with an elderly
gentlewoman, who was their governess, and wore
a ptnce-nez to impart the necessary suggestion of
a superior intellect. They were the Miss Mutlows,
sisters of one of the day-boarders, and attended the
course by special favour as friends of Dulcie's, who
followed them in with a little gleam of shy anti¬
cipation in her eyes.
The Miss Mutlows sat stiffly down on a
form, one on each side of her governess, and all
three stared solemnly at the boys, who began
to blush vividly under the inspection, to un¬
button and rebutton their gloves with great care,
and to shift from leg to leg in an embarrassed
manner.
Dulcie soon singled out poor Air. Bultitude,
who, mindful of Tipping's warning, was doing his
very best to avoid her.
She ran straight to him, laid her hand on
his arm and looked into his face pleadingly.
"Dick," she said, "you're not skulky still,
are you?"
Mr. Bultitude had borne a good deal al¬
ready, and, not being remarkably sweet-natured,
he shook the little mittened hand away, half-
128
VICE VERSA.
petulant and half-alarmed. "I do wish you wouldn't
do this sort of thing in public. You'll compromise
me, you know!" he said nervously.
Dulcie opened her grey eyes wide, and then
a flush came into her cheeks, and she made a
little disdainful upward movement of her chin.
"You didn't mind it once," she said. "I thought
you might want to dance with me. You liked to
last term. But I'm sure 1 don't care if you choose
to be disagreeable. Go and dance with Mary
Mutlow if you want to, though you did say she
danced like a pair of compasses, and I shall tell
her you said so, too. And you know you're not
a good dancer yourself. Are you going to dance
with Mary?"
Paul stamped. "I tell you I never dance,"
he said. "I can't dance any more than a lamp¬
post. You don't seem an ill-natured little girl,
but why on earth can't you let me alone?"
Dulcie's eyes flashed. "You're a nasty sulky
bov," she said in an angry undertone jail the
conversation had, of course, been carried on in
whispers . "I'll never speak to you or look at
you again. You're the most horrid boy in the
school—and the ugliest!"
And she turned proudly away, though any¬
one who looked might have seen the fire in her
eyes extinguished as she did so. Perhaps Tipping
did see it, for he scowled at them from his corner.
There was another sound outside, as of fiddle-
strings being twanged by the finger, and, as the
boys hastily formed up in two lines down the
LEARNING AND ACCOMPLISHMENTS. I 29
centre of the room and the Miss Mutlows and
Dulcie prepared themselves for the curtsy of state,
there came in a little fat man, with mwtton-chop
whiskers and a white face, upon which was written
an unalterable conviction that his manners and
deportment were perfection itself.
The two rows of boys bent themselves stiffly
from the back, and Mr. Burdekin returned the
compliment by an inclusive and stately inclination.
"Good afternoon, madam. Young ladies, I
trust I find you well. (The curtsy just a leetle
lower, Miss Mutlow—the right foot less drawn
back. Beautiful! Feet closer at the recovery.
Perfect!) Young gentlemen, good evening. Take
your usual places, please, all of you, for our pre¬
liminary exercises. Now, the chassce round the
room. Will you lead off, please, Master Dummer;
the hands just lightly touching the shoulders, the
head thrown negligently back to balance the
figure; the whole deportment easy, but not careless.
Now please!"
And, talking all the time with a metrical
fluency, he scraped a little jig on the violin, while
Dummer led off a procession which solemnly
capered round the room in sundry stages of
conscious awkwardness. Mr. Bultitude shuffled
along somehow after the rest, with rebellion at
his heart and a deep sense of degradation. "If
my clerks were to see me now!" he thought.
After some minutes of this, Mr. Burdekin
stopped them and directed sets to be formed for
'The Lancers."
K
' 3°
VICE VERSA.
"Master Bultitude," said Mr. Burdekin, "you
will take Miss Mutlow, please."
"Thank you," said Paul, "but—ah—ah—I
don't dance."
"Nonsense, nonsense, sir, you are one of my
most promising pupils. You mustn't tell me that.
Not another word! Come, select your partners."
Paul had no option. Me was paired off with
the tall and rather angular young lady mentioned,
while Dulcie looked on pouting, ancF snubbed
Tipping, who humbly asked for the pleasure of
dancing with her, by declaring that she meant to
dance with Tom.
The dance began to a sort of rhythmical
accompaniment by Mr. Burdekin, who intoned
"Tops advance, retire and cross. Balance at
corners. (Very nice, Miss Grimstone!) More
'aba7idon', Master Chawner! Lift the feet more
from the floor. Not so high as that! Oh, dear
me! that last figure over again. And slide the
feet, oh, slide the feet! (Master Bultitude, you're
leaving out all the steps!")
Paul was dragged, unwilling but unresisting,
through it all by his partner, who jerked and
pushed him into his place without a word, being
apparently under strict orders from the governess
not on any account to speak to the boys.
After the dance the couples promenaded in a
stiff but stately manner round the room to a
dirgelike march scraped upon the violin, the
boys taking the parts of ladies jibbing away from
their partners in a highly unlady-like fashion,
LEARNING AND ACCOMPLISHMENTS. I 3 I
and the boy burdened with the companionship of
the younger Miss Mutlow walking along in a
very agony of bashfulness.
"1 suppose," thought Paul, as he led the way
with Miss Mar)' Mutlow, "if Uick were ever to
hear of this, he'd think it funny. Oh, if I ever
get the upper hand of him again How much
longer, I wonder, shall I have to play the fool to
this infernal fiddle!"
But, if this was bad, worse was to come.
There was another pause, in which Mr.
Burdekin said blandly, "1 wonder now if we have
forgotten our Scotch hornpipe. Perhaps Master
Bultitude will prove the contrary. If I remember
right, he used to perform it with singular correct¬
ness. And, let me tell you, there are a great
number of spurious hornpipe steps in circulation.
Come, sir, oblige me by dancing it alone 1"
This was the final straw. It was not to be
supposed for one moment that Mr. Bultitude
would lower his dignity in such a preposterous
manner. Besides, he did not know how to dance
the hornpipe.
So he said, "I shall do nothing of the sort.
I've had quite enough of this—ah—tomfoolery!"
"That is a very impolite manner of declining,
Master Bultitude, highly discourteous and unpolished.
I must insist now-—really, as a personal matter—
upon your going through the sailor's hornpipe.
Come, you won't make a scene, I'm sure. You'll
oblige me, as a gentleman?"
"I tell you I can't!" said Mr. Bultitude sullenly.
K*
132
VICE VERSA.
"I never did such a tiling in my life; it would be
enough to kill me at my age!"
"This is untrue, sir. Do you mean to say
you will not dance the hornpipe?"
"No," said Paul, "I'll be d d if I do!"
There was unfortunately no possible doubt
about the nature of the word used—he said it so
very distinctly. The governess screamed and called
her charges to her, Dulcie hid her face, and some
of the boys tittered.
Mr. Burdekin turned pink. "After that dis¬
graceful language, sir, in the presence of the fairer
sex, I have no more to do with you. You will
have the goodness to stand in the centre of that
form. Gentlemen, select your partners for the
Highland schottische!"
Mr. Buhitude, by no means sorry to be freed
from the irksome necessity of dancing with a heart
ill-attuned for enjoyment, got up on the form and
stood looking, sullenly enough, upon the proceedings.
The governess glowered at him now and then as
a monster of youthful depravity; the Miss Mutlows
glanced up at him as they tripped past, with
curiosity not unmixed with admiration, but Dulcie
steadily avoided looking in his direction.
Paul was just congratulating himself on his
escape, when the door opened wide, and the
Doctor marched slowly and imposingly into the
room.
He did this occasionally, partly to superintend
matters, and partly as an encouraging mark of
approbation. He looked round the class at first
LEARNING AND ACCOMPLISHMENTS.
133
with benignant toleration, until his glance took in
the bench upon which Mr. Bultitude was set up.
Then his eye slowly travelled up to the level of
Paul's head, his expression changing meanwhile to
a petrifying glare.
It was not, as Paul instinctively felt, exactly
the position in which a gentleman who wished to
stand well with those in authority over him would
prefer to be found in. He felt his heart turn to
water within him, and stared limp and helpless at
the Doctor.
There was an awful silence (Dr. Grimstone
was addicted to awful silences; and, indeed, if
seldom strictly "golden," silence may often be
called "iron"', but at last he inquired, "And pray
what may you be doing up there, sir?"
"Upon my soul I can't say," said Mr.
Bultitude feebly. "Ask that gentleman there with
the fiddle—he knows."
Mr. Burdekin was a good-natured, easy-
tempered little man, and had already forgotten
the affront to his dignity. He was anxious not to
get the boy into more trouble.
"Master Bultitude was a little inattentive and,
I may say, wanting in respect, Dr. Grimstone,"
he said, putting it as mildly as he could with any
accuracy; "so I ventured to place him there
as a punishment."
"Quite right, Mr. Burdekin," said the Doctor;
"quite right. I am sorry that any boy of mine
should have caused you to do so. You are again
beginning your career of disorder and rebellion,
134
VICE VERSA.
are you, sir? Go up into the schoolroom at once,
and write a dozen copies before tea-time! A very
little more eccentricity and insubordination from
you, Bultitude, and you will reap a full reward—a
full reward, sir!"
So Mr. Bultitude was driven out of the dancing
class in dire disgrace — which would not have
distressed him particularly, being only one more
drop in his bitter cup—but that he recognised that
now his hopes of approaching the Doctor with his
burden of woe were fallen like a card castle.
They were fiddled and danced away for at least
twenty-four hours—perhaps for ever!
Bitterly did he brood over this as he slowly
and laboriously copied out sundry vain repetitions
of such axioms as, "Cultivate Habits of Courtesy
and Self-control," and "True Happiness is to be
sought in Contentment." He saw the prospect of
a tolerably severe flogging growing more and more
distinct, and felt that he could not present himself
to his family with the consciousness of having
suffered such an indelible disgrace. His family!
What would become of them in his absence?
Would he ever see his comfortable home in
Bayswater again ?
Tea-time came, and after it evening
preparation, when Mr. Tinkler presided in a feeble
and ineffective manner, perpetually suspecting that
the faint sniggers he heard were indulged in at his
own expense, and calling perfectly innocent victims
to account for them.
Paul sat next tojolland and, in his desperate
LEARNING AND ACCOMPLISHMENTS. 135
anxiety to avoid further unpleasantness, found
himself, as he could not for his life have written
a Latin or a German composition, reduced to copy
down his neighbour's exercises. This Jolland (who
had looked forward to an arrangement of a very
opposite kind) nevertheless cheerfully allowed him
to do, though he expressed doubts as to the
wisdom of a servile imitation—more, perhaps, from
prudence than conscientiousness.
Jolland, in the intervals of study, was deeply
engaged in the production of a small illustrated
work of fiction, which he was pleased to call "The
Adventures of Ben Buterkin at Scool." It was in
a great measure an autobiography, and the cuts
depicting the hero's flagellations—which were
frequent in the course of the narrative—were
executed with much vigour and feeling.
He turned out a great number of these works
in the course of the term, as well as faces in pen
and ink with moving tongues and rolling eyes,
and these he would present to a few favoured
friends with a secretive and self-depreciatory
g'ggle-
Amidst scenes and companions like these,
Paul sat out the evening hours on his hard seat,
which was just at the junction of two forms—an
exquisitely uncomfortable position, as all who have
tried it will acknowledge-—until the time for going
to bed came round again. He dreaded the hours
of darkness, but there was no help for it—to
protest would have been madness just then, and,
VICE VERSA.
once more, he was forced to pass a night under
the roof of Crichton House.
It was even worse than the first, though this
was greatly owing to his own obstinacy.
The boys, if less subdued, were in better
temper than the evening before, and found it
troublesome to keep up a feud when the first flush
of resentment had died out. There was a general
disposition to forget his departure from the code
of schoolboy honour, and give him an opportunity
of retrieving the past.
But he would not meet them half-way; his
repeated repulses by the Doctor and all the
difficulties that beset his return to freedom had
made him very sulky and snappish. hie had not
patience or adaptability enough to respond to their
advances, and only shrank from their rough good
nature—which naturally checked the current of
good feeling.
Then, when the lights were put out, some
one demanded a story. Most of the bedrooms
possessed a professional story-teller, and in one
there was a young romancist who began a stirring
history the very first night of the term, which
always ran on until the night before the holidays,
and, if his hearers were apt to yawn at the sixth
week of it, he himself enjoyed and believed in it
keenly from beginning to end.
Dick Bultitude had been a valued raconteur,
it appeared, and his father found accordingly, to
his disgust, that he was expected to amuse them
with a story. When he clearly understood the
LEARNING AND ACCOMPLISHMENTS. 137
idea, he rejected it with so savage a snarl, that
he soon found it necessary to retire under the
bedclothes to escape the general indignation that
followed.
Finding that he did not actively resent it
(the real Dick would have had the occupant of
the nearest bed out by the ears in a minute!),
they profited by his prudence to come to his bed¬
side, where they pillowed his weary head (with
their own pillows) till the slight offered them was
more than avenged.
After that, Mr. Bultitude, with the breath
half beaten out of his body, lay writhing and
spluttering on his hard, rough bed till long after
silence had fallen over the adjoining beds, and
the sleepy hum of talk in the other bedrooms had
died away.
Then he, too, drifted off into wild and troubled
dreams, which, at their maddest, were scattered
into blackness by a sudden and violent shock,
which jerked him, clutching and grasping at
nothing, on to the cold, bare boards, where he
rolled, shivering.
"An earthquake!" he thought, "an explosion
. . . gas—or dynamite 1 He must go and call the
children . . . Boaler . . . the plate 1"
But the reality to which he woke was worse
still. Tipping and Coker had been patiently
pinching themselves to keep awake until their
enemy should be soundly asleep, in order to enjoy
the exquisite pleasure of letting down the mat¬
tress; and, too dazed and frightened even to swear,
VICE VERSA.
Paul gathered up his bedclothes and tried to draw
them about him as well as he might, and seek
sleep, which had lost its security.
The Garuda Stone had done one grim and
cruel piece of work at least in its time.
CHAPTER VII.
CUTTING THE KNOT.
"A Crowd is not Company; And Faces are but a Gallery of
Pictures; And Talke but a Tinckling Cymball, where there
is no Love."—Bacon.
ONCE more Bultitude rose betimes, dressed noise¬
lessly, and stole down to the cold schoolroom,
where one gas-jet was burning palely—for the
morning was raw and foggy.
This time, however, he was not alone. Mr.
Blinkhorn was sitting at his little table in the
corner, correcting exercises, with his chilly hands
cased in worsted mittens. He looked up as Paul
came in, and nodded kindly.
Paul went straight to the fire, and stood
staring into it with lack-lustre eye, too apathetic
even to be hopeless, for the work of enlightening
the Doctor seemed more terrible and impossible
than ever, and he began to see that, if the only
way of escape lay there, he had better make up
his mind with what philosophy he could to adapt
CUTTING THE KNOT.
139
himself to his altered circumstances, and stay on
for the rest of the term.
But the prospect was so doleful and so blank,
that he drew a heavy sigh as he thought of it.
Mr. Blinkhorn heard it, and rose awkwardly from
the ricketty little writing-table, knocking over a
little pile of marble-covered copy-books as he
did so.
Then he crossed over to Paul and laid a
hand gently 011 his shoulder. "Look here," he
said: "why don't you confide in me? Do you
think I'm blind to what has happened to you? I
can see the change in you—if others cannot. Why
not trust me?"
Mr. Bultitude looked up into his face, which
had an honest interest and kindliness in it, and
his heart warmed with a faint hope. If this young
man had been shrewd enough to guess at his
unhappy secret, might he not be willing to in¬
tercede with the Doctor for him ? He looked good-
natured—he would trust him.
"Do you mean to say really," he asked, with
more cordiality than he had spoken for a long
time, "that you—see—the —a—-the difference?"
"I saw it almost directly," said Mr. Blink-
horn, with mild triumph.
"That's the most extraordinary thing," said
Paul, "and yet it ought to be evident enough, to
be sure. But no, you can't have guessed the real
state of things!"
"Listen, and stop me if I'm wrong. Within
the last few days a great change has been at
140
VICE VERSA.
work within you. You are not the idle, thought¬
less, mischievous boy who left here for his holi¬
day "
"No," said Paul, "I'll swear I'm not!"
"There is no occasion for such strong ex¬
pressions. Put, at all events, you come back
here an altogether different being. Am I right in
saying so?"
"Perfectly," said Paul, overjoyed at being so
thoroughly understood, "perfectly. You're a very
intelligent young man, sir. Shake hands. Why,
I shouldn't be surprised, after that, if you knew
how it all happened?"
"That too," said Mr. Blinkhorn smiling, "I
can guess. It arose, I doubt not, in a wish?"
"Yes," cried Paul, "you've hit it again. You're
a conjuror, sir, by Gad you are!"
"Don't say 'by Gad,' Bultitude; it's incon¬
sistent. It began, I was saying, in a wish, half
unconscious perhaps, to be something other than
what you had been "
"I was a fool," groaned Mr. Bultitude, "yes,
that was the way it began!"
"Then insensibly the wish worked a gradual
transformation in your nature (you are old enough
to follow me?)"
"Old enough for him to follow me!" thought
Paul; but he was too pleased to be annoyed.
"Hardly gradual, I should say," he said aloud.
"But go on, sir, pray go on. I see you know
all about it."
"At first the other part of you struggled
CUTTING THE KNOT.
I4I
against the new feelings. You strove to forget
them—you even tried to resume your old habits,
your former way of life—but to no purpose; and
when you came here, you found no fellowship
amongst your companions "
"Quite out of the question!" said Paul.
"Their pleasures give you no delight "
"Not a bit!"
"They, on their side, perhaps misunderstand
your lack of interest in their pursuits. They can¬
not see—how should they—that you have altered
your mode of life, and when they catch the
difference between you and the Richard Bultitude
they knew, why, they are apt to resent it."
"They are," agreed Mr. Bultitude: "they
resent it in a confounded disagreeable way, you
know. Why, I assure you, that only last night
I was "
"Hush," said Mr Blinkhorn, holding up one
hand, "complaints are unmanly. But I see you
wonder at my knowing all this?"
"Well," said Paul, "I am rather surprised."
"What would you say if I told you I had
undergone it myself in my time?"
"You don't mean to tell me there are two
Garuda Stones in this miserable world!" cried
Paul, thoroughly astonished.
"I don't know what you mean now, but I
can say with truth that I too have had my ex¬
periences— my trials. Months ago, from certain
signs I noticed, I foresaw that this was coming
upon you."
142
VICE VERSA.
"Then," said Mr. Multitude, "I think, in com¬
mon decency, you might have warned me. A
post-card would have done it. I should have
been better prepared to meet this, then!"
"It would have been worse than fruitless to
attempt to hurry on the crisis. It might have
even prevented what I fondly hoped would come
to pass."
"Fondly hoped!" said Paul, "upon my word
you speak plainly, sir."
"Yes," said Mr. Blinkhorn. "You see I knew
the Dick Bultitude that was, so well; he was
frolicsome, impulsive, mischievous even, but under
it all there la}- a nature of sterling worth."
"Sterling worth!" cried Paul. "A scoundrel,
I tell you, a heartless, selfish young scoundrel!
Call things by their right names, if you please."
"No, no," said Mr. Blinkhorn, "this extreme
self-depreciation is morbid, very morbid. There
was no actual vice."
"No actual vice! Why, God bless my soul,
do you call ingratitude—the basest, most unhlial,
most treacherous ingratitude —no vice, sir? You
may be a very excellent young man, but if you
gloss over things in that fashion, your moral sense
must be perverted, sir—strangely perverted."
"There were faults on both sides, 1 fear,"
said Mr. Blinkhorn, growing a little scandalised by
the boy's odd warmth of expression. "I have
heard something of what you had to bear with.
On the one hand, a father, undemonstrative, stern,
easily provoked; on the other a son, thoughtless,
CUTTING THE KNOT.
143
forgetful, and at times it may be even wilful.
But you are too sensitive; you think too much
of what seems to me a not unnatural (although
of course improper) protest against coldness and
injustice. I should be the last to encourage a
child against a parent, but, to comfort your self-
reproach, I think it right to assure you that, in
my judgment, the outburst you refer to was very
excusable."
"Oh," said Paul, "you do? You call that
comfort? Excusable! Why, what the dooce do
you mean, sir? You're taking the other side
!»»
"This is not the language of penitence, Bul-
titude," said poor Mr. Blinkhorn, disheartened and
bewildered. "Remember, you have done with
your old self now!"
"Don't say that," said Paul; "I don't be¬
lieve it!"
"You want to be your old self again?"
gasped Mr. Blinkhorn.
"Why, of course I do," said Paul angrily;
"I'm not an idiot!"
"You are weary of the struggle so soon?"
said the other with reproach.
"Weary? I tell you I'm sick of it! If I had
only known what was in store for me before I
had made such a fool of myself!"
"This is horrible!" said Mr. Blinkhorn—"I
ought not to listen to you."
"But you must," urged Paul; "I tell you I
can't stand it any longer. Im not fit for it at
144
VICE VERSA.
my age. You must see that yourself, and you
must make Grimstone see it too!"
"Never!" said Blinkhorn firmly. "Nor do I
see how that would help you. I will not let you
go back in this deplorable way. You must nerve
yourself to go on now in the path you have
chosen ; you must force your schoolfellows to love
and respect you in your new character. Come,
take courage! After all, in spite of your altered
life, there is no reason why you should not be a
frank and happy-hearted boy, you know."
"A frank and happy-hearted fiddlestick!" cried
Paul rudely (he was so disgusted at the sug¬
gestion); "don't talk rubbish, sir! I thought you
were going to show me some way out of all this,
and instead of that, knowing the shameful way
I've been treated, you can stand there and calmly
recommend me to stay on here and be happy-
hearted and frank 1"
"You must be calm, Bultitude, or I shall
leave you. Listen to reason. You are here for
your good. Truth, it has been beautifully said,
is the springtime of life. Though you may not
believe it, you will never be happier than you are
now. Our schoold lys are "
But Mr. Bultitude could not tamely be mocked
with the very platitudes that had brought him all
his misery — he cut the master short in a violent
passion. "This is too much!" he cried—"you
shall not palm off that miserable rubbish on me.
I see through it. It's a plot to keep mt here,
and you're in it. It's false imprisonment, and I'll
CUTTING THE KNOT.
M5
write to the 'Times.' Ill expose the whole
thing!"
"This violence is only ridiculous," said Mr.
Blinkhorn. "If I were not too pained by it, I
should feel it my duty to report your language
to the Doctor. As*- it is, you have bitterly dis¬
appointed me; 1 cari't understand it at all. you
see?ht^U^so_ subdueii, so softened lately. Bye until
you come t«o me and say you regret th,'s, I must
decline to h.ave anything more to say to you.
Take your b<Jok and sit AfCvnTrfyour place!"
And he went bac< to his exercises, looking
puzzled and pained. The fact was, he was an
ardent believer in the.hood Boy of a certain order
of school tales—"the ooy who is seized with a
sudden conviction- of the intrinsic baseness of
boyhood, and does dJ] in his power to get rid of
the harmful taint, the boy who renounces his old
comrades and his natural tastes (which after all
seldom have any serious harm in them), to don a
panoply of priggishness which is too often kick-
proof.
This kind of boy is rare enough at most
English schools, but Mr. Blinkhorn had been
educated at a large Nonconformist College, where
"Revivals" and "Awakenings" were periodical,
and undoubtedly did produce changes of character
violent enough, but sadly short in duration.
He was always in wait for some such boy to
come to him with his confession of moral wort'lv
lessness and vows of unnatural perfection, and
was too simple and earnest and good himself to
L
146
VICE YE MS A.
realise that such states of the youthful mind are
not unfrequently merely morbid and hysterical,
and too often degenerate into Pharisaism, or worse
still, hypocrisy.
So when he noticed Mr. Bultitude s silence
aria depression, his studied withdrawal from the
other, and his evident want of sympathy with
them, '">£ believed he saw thw symjatoms^ ^ a
conscience at work, and that he ha^j found his
reformed bo"_, at last.
It was a very unrotynate rnisi^mdgpg^riclmg^
for it separated Paul frm, PerViaps, the only
person who would have iad the ^ guilelessness to
believe his incredible story and P-iie goodnature to
help him to find escape fro11 misfortunes.
Mr. Bultitude on his Part. was more angry
and disgusted than ever. -Vie began to see that
there was a muddle somewhere, and that his
identity was unsuspected still. The young man,
for all his fair speaking and pretended shrewdness,
was no conjuror after all. He was left to rely on
his own resources, and he had begun to lose all
confidence in their power to extricate him.
As he brooded over this, the boys straggled
down as before, and looked over their lessons for
the day in a dull, lifeless manner. The cold, un¬
satisfying breakfast, and the half-hour assigned to
"chevy," followed in due course, and, after that,
Paul found himself set down with a class to await
the German master, Herr Stolnvasser.
He had again tried to pull himself together
and approach the Doctor with his protest, but no
CUTTING THE KNOT.
147
sooner did he find himself near his presence than
his heart began to leap wildly and then retired
down towards his boots, leaving him hoarse,
palpitating, and utterly blank of ideas.
It was no use —and he resigned himself for
yet another day of unwelcome instruction.
The class was in a little room on the base¬
ment floor, with a linen-press taking up one side,
some bare white deal tables and forms, and, on
the walls, a few coloured German prints. They
sat there talking and laughing, taking no notice
of Mr. Bultitude, until the German master made
his appearance.
He was by no means a formidable person,
though stout and tall. He wore big round owlish
spectacles, and his pale broad face and long nose,
combined with a wild crop of light hair and a
fierce beard, gave him almost as incongruous an
appearance as if a sheep had looked out of a
gun-port.
He took his place with an air of tremendous
determination to enforce a hard morning's work
on the book they were reading—a play of Schiller's,
of the plot of which, it is needless to say, no one
of his pupils had or cared to have the vaguest
notion, having long since condemned the whole
subject, with insular prejudice, as "rot."
"Now, please," said Herr Stohwasser, "where
we left off last term. Third act, first scene—
Court before Tell's house. Tell is with the
carpenter axe, Hedwig with a domestic labour
occupied. Walter and Wilhelm in the depth sport
L'
VICE VERSA.
with a liddle gross-bow. Biddlegom, you begin.
Walter (sings'."
But Biddlecomb was in a conversational mood,
and willing to postpone the task of translation,
so he merely inquired, with an air of extreme
interest, how 1 Ierr Stohwasser's German Grammar
was getting on.
This was a subject on which \as he perhaps
knew) the German never could resist enlarging,
for in common with most German masters, he
was giving birth to a new Grammar, which, from
the daring originality of its plan, and its extreme
simplicity, was destined to supersede all other
similar works.
"Ach," he said, "it is brogressing. I haf just
gompleted a gomprehensive table of ve irregular
virps, vith ze eggserzizes upon zem. And zere is
further an appendeeks which in itself gontains a
goncise view of all ze vort-plays possible in the
Charman tong. But, gome, let us gontinue vith
our Tell 1"
"What are vort-plays?" persisted Biddlecomb
insidiously, having no idea of continuing with his
Tell just yet.
"A vort-play," explained Herr Stohwasser;
"it is English, nicht so? A sporting vith vorts—
a 'galembour'—a — Gott pless me, vat you call a
'pon.'"
"Like the one you made when you were a
young man?" Jolland called out from the lower
end of the table.
"Yes; tell us the one you made when you
CUTTING THE KNOT.
I49
were a young man!" the class entreated, with
flattering eagerness.
Herr Stohwasser began to laugh with slow,
deep satisfaction; the satisfaction of a successful
achievement. "Hah, you remember dat!" he said,
"ah, yes, I make him when a yong man; but,
mind you, he was not a pon—he was a 'choke.'
I haf told you all about him before."
"We've forgotten it," said Biddlecomb: "tell it
us again."
As a matter of fact, this joke, in all its lights,
was tolerably familiar to most of them by this
time, but, either on its individual merits, or per¬
haps because it compared favourably with the sterner
alternative of translating, it was periodically in
request, and always met with evergreen appre¬
ciation.
Herr Stohwasser beamed with the pride of
authorship. Like the celebrated Scotchman, he
"jocked wi' deeflculty," and the outcome of so
much labour was dear to him.
"I zent him into ze Charman 'Kladderadatch'
(it is a paper like your 'Ponch'). It—mein choke
—was upon ze Schleswig-Holstein gomplication;
ze beginning was in this way—"
And he proceeded to set out in great length
all the circumstances which had given materials
for his "choke", with the successive processes by
which he had shaped and perfected it, passing on
to a recital of the masterpiece itself, and ending
up by a philosophical analysis of the same, which
1 5°
VICE VERSA.
must have placed his pupils in full possession of
the point, for they laughed consumedly.
"I tell you zis," he said, "not to aggustom
your minds vith frivolity and lightness, but as a
lesson in ze gonstruction of ze langwitch. If you
can choke in Charman, you vill also be able to
gonverse in Charman."
"Did the German what's-its-name print your
joke?" inquired Coggs.
"It has not appeared yet," Herr Stohwasser
confessed: "it takes a long time to get an imbor-
tant choke like that out in print. But I vait—I
write to ze editor every veek—and I vait."
"Why don't you put it in your Grammar?"
suggested Tipping.
"I haf—ze greater part of it—(it was a long
choke, but I gompressed himX If I haf time,
some day I will make anozer liddle choke to
aggompany, because I vant my Crammar to be
a goot Crammar, you understandt. And now
to our Tell. Really you people do noding but
chatterl"
All this, of course, had no interest for Mr.
Bultitude, but it left him free to pursue his own
thoughts in peace, and indeed this lesson would
never have been recorded, but for two circumstances
which will presently appear, both of which had no
small effect on his fortunes.
He sat nearest the window, and looked out
on the pinched and drooping laurels in the enclo¬
sure, which were damp with frost melting in the
February sunshine. Over the wall he could see
CUTTING THE KNOT.
the tops of passing vehicles, the country carrier's
cart, the railway parcels van, the fly from the
station. He envied even the drivers; their lot was
happier than hisl
His thoughts were busy with Dick. Oddly
enough, it had scarcely occurred to him before to
speculate on what he might be doing in his ab¬
sence; he had thought chiefly about himself. ffut
now he gave his attention to the subject, what
new horrors it opened up! What might not become
of his well-conducted household under the rash rule
of a foolish schoolboy? The office, too—who
could say what mischief Dick might not be do¬
ing there, under the cover of his own respectable
form!
Then it might seem good to him any day
to smash the Garuda Stone, and after that there
would be no hope of matters being ever set right
again!
And yet, miserable coward and fool that he
was, with everything depending upon his losing
no time to escape, he could not screw up his
courage, and say the words that were to set
him free.
All at once—and this is one of the circum¬
stances that make the German lesson an impor¬
tant stage in this story—an idea suggested itself
to him quite dazzling by its daring and brilliancy.
Some may wonder when they hear what it
was, why he never thought of it before, and it
is somewhat surprising, but by no means without
orecedent. Mark Twain has told us somewhere
152
VICE \ ERSA,
of a ferocious bandit who was confined for six¬
teen years in solitary captivity, before the notion
of escape ever occurred to him. W hen it did, he
simply opened the window and got out.
1'erhaps a similar passiveness on Mr. llulti-
tude's part was due to a very natural and proper
desire to do everything without scandal, and in a
legitimate manner; to march out, as it were, with
the honours of war. Perhaps it was simple dul-
ness. The fact remains that it was not till then
that he saw a way of recovering his lost position,
without the disagreeable necessity of disclosing his
position to anyone at Crichton House.
He had still—thank Heaven—the five shillings
he had given Dick. He had not thrown them away
with the other articles in his mad passion. Five
shillings was not much, but it was more than
enough to pay for a third-class fare to town. He
had only to watch his opportunity, slip away to
the station, and be at home again, defying the
usurper, before anyone at Crichton House had dis¬
covered his absence.
He might go that very da)', and the delight
of this thought—the complete reaction from blank
despair to hope was so intense that he could
not help rubbing his hands stealthily under the
table, and chuckling with glee at his own readi¬
ness of resource.
When we are most elated, however, there is
always a counteracting agent at hand to bring us
down again to our proper level, or below it. The
Roman general in the triumph never really needed
CUTTING THE KNOT.
153
the slave in the chariot to dash his spirits—he
had his friends there already; the guests at an
Egyptian dinner must have brought their own
skeletons.
There was a small flaxen-haired little boy sit¬
ting next to Mr. Bultitude, seemingly a quite in¬
offensive being, who at this stage served to sober
him by furnishing another complication.
"Oh, I say, Bultitude," he piped shrilly in
Paul's ear, "I forgot all about it. Where's my
rabbit?"
The unreasonable absurdity of such a question
annoyed him excessively "Is this a time," he
said reprovingly, "to talk of rabbits? Mind your
book, sir."
"Oh, I daresay," grumbled little Porter, the
boy in question: "it's all very well, but I want
my rabbit."
"Hang, it, sir," said Paul angrily, "do you
suppose I'm sitting on it?"
"You promised to bring me back a rabbit,"
persisted Porter doggedly; "you know you did, and
it's a beastly shame. I mean to have that rabbit,
or know the reason why."
At the other end of the table Biddlecomb
had again dexterously allured Herr Stohwasser into
the meshes of conversation; this time upon the
question [a propos des bottcs) of street performances.
"I \ ill "ell you a gurious thing," he was saying,
"vat happened to me ze ozcr day, ven 1 was
walking down ze Strandt. I saw a leedle gammon
dirty boy vith a tall round hat 011 him, and he
VICE VERSA.
stand in a side street right out in ze road, and he
take off his tall round hat, and he put it on ze
grount, and he stand still and look so at it. So
I stop too, to see vat he would do next. And
presently he take out a large sheet of paper and
tear it in four pieces very garefully, and stick zem
round ze tall round hat, and put it on his head
again, and zen he set it down on ze grount and
look at it vonce more, and all ze time he never
speak von vort. And I look and look and vonder
vat he vould do next. And a great growd of
peoples com, and zey look and vonder too. And
zen all at once ze leedle dirty boy he take out all
ze paper and put on ze hat, and he valk avay,
laughing altogether foolishly at zomzing I did not
understant at all. I haf been thinking efer since vat
in the vorldt he do all zat nonsense for. And zere
is von ozer gurious thing I see in your London
streets zat very same day. Zere vas a poor house
cat vat had been by a cab overrun as I passed
by, and von man vith a kind varm heart valk up
and stamp it on ze head for to end its pain. And
anozer man vith anozer kind heart, he gom up
directly and had not seen ze cat overrun, but he
see ze first man stamping and knock him down
for ill-treating animals; it vas quite gurious to see;
till ze policeman arrest zem both for fighting.
Goggs, degline 'Katze,' and gif me ze berfect and
bast barticiple of 'kampfen,' to fight." This last
relapse into duty was caused by the sudden
entrance of the Doctor, who stood at the door
looking on for some time with a general air of
CUTTING THE KNOT.
being intimately acquainted with Schiller as an
author, before suggesting graciously that it was
time to dismiss the class.
Wednesday was a half-holiday at Crichton
House and so, soon after dinner, Paul found him¬
self marshalled with the rest in a procession bound
for the football field. They marched two and
two, Chawner and three of the other elder boys
leading with the ball and four goal-posts
ornamented with coloured calico flags, and Mr.
Blinkhorn and Mr. Tinkler bringing up the rear.
Mr. Bultitude was paired with Tom Grimstone,
who, after eyeing him askance for some time,
could control his curiosity no longer.
"I say, Dick," he began, "what's the matter
with you this term?"
"My name is not Dick," said Paul stiffly.
"Oh, if you're so particular then," said Tom:
"but, without humbug, what is the matter?"
"You see a change then," said Paul, "you do
see a difference, eh?"
"Ratherl" said Tom expressively. "You've
come back what I call a beastly sneak, you know,
this term. The other fellows don't like it; they'll
send you to Coventry unless you take care."
"I wish they would," said Paul.
"You don't talk like the same fellow either,"
continued Tom; "you use such fine language, and
you're always in a bait, and yet you don't stick up
for yourself as you used to. Look here, tell me
(we were always chums), is it one of your larks?"
156
VICE VERSA.
"Larks!" said Paul, "I'm in a fine mood for
larks. No, it's not one of my larks."
"Perhaps your old governor has been making
a cad of himself then, and you're out of sorts
about it."
"I'll thank you not to speak about him in
that way," said Paul, "in my presence."
"Why," grumbled, Tom, "I'm sure you said
enough about him yourself last term. It's my
belief you're imitating him now."
"Ah," said Paul, "and what makes you think-
that ?"
"Why, you go about strutting and swelling
just like he did when he came about sending you
here. I say, do you know what ma said about
him after he went away?"
"No," said Paul, "your mother struck me as
a very sensible and agreeable woman—if 1 may
say so to her son."
"Well, ma said your governor seemed to leave
you here just like they leave umbrellas at picture
galleries, and she believed he had a large-sized
money bag inside him instead of a heart."
"Oh!" said Paul, with great disgust, for he
had thought Airs. (Irimstone a woman of better
taste; "your mother said that, did she? Vastly
entertaining to be sure ha, ha! Pie would be
pleased to know she thought that, I'm sure."
"Tell him, and see what he says," suggested
Tom; "he is an awful brute to you though,
isn't he?"
"If," growled Air. Bultitude, "slaving from
CUTTING TIIE KNOT.
>57
morning till night to provide education and luxury
for a thankless brood of unprofitable young vipers
is 'being a brute,' I suppose he is."
"Why, you're sticking up for him now!" said
Tom. "I thought he was so strict with you.
Wouldn't let you have any fun at home, and never
took you to pantomimes?"
"And why should he, sir, why should he:
Tell me that. Tell me why a man is to be
hunted out of his comfortable chair after a well-
earned dinner, to go and sit in a hot theatre and
a thorough draught, yawning at the miserable
drivel managers choose to call a pantomime ?
Now in my young days there were pantomimes.
I tell you, sir, I've seen "
"Oh, if you're satisfied, I don't care!" said
Tom, astonished at this apparent change of front.
"If you choose to come back and play the corker
like this, it's your look-out. Only, if you knew
what Sproule major said about you just now—"
"I don't want to know," said Paul, "it doesn't
concern me."
"Perhaps it doesn't concern you what pa
thinks either? Pa told ma last night that he was
altogether at a loss to know how to deal with
you, you had come back so queer and unruly.
And he said, let me see, oh, he said that 'if he
didn't see an alteration very sc n he should resort
to more drastic measures' — di -tic measures is
Latin for a whopping."
"Good gracious!" thought Paul, "I haven't a
moment to lose; he might 'resort to drastic mea-
158
VICE VERSA.
sures' this very evening. I can't change my
nature at my time of life. I must run for it,
and soon."
Then he said aloud to Tom, "Can you tell
me, my—my young friend, if, supposing a boy
were to ask to leave the field—saying for instance
that he was not well and thought he should be
better at home—whether he would be allowed
to go?"
"Of course he would," said Tom, "you ought
to know that by this time. You've only to ask
Blinkhorn or Tinkler; they'll let you go right
enough."
Paul saw his course quite clearly now, and
was overcome with relief and gratitude. He wrung
the astonished Tom's hand warmly; "Thank you,"
he said, briskly and cheerfully, "thank you. I'm
really uncommonly obliged to you. You're a
very intelligent boy. I should like to give you
sixpence."
But although Tom used no arguments to
dissuade him, Mr. Bultitude remembered his po¬
sition in time, and prudently refrained from such
ill-judged generosity. Sixpences were of vital im¬
portance now, when he expected to be starting
so soon on his perilous journey.
And so they reached the field where the
game was to be played, and where Paul was
resolved to have one desperate throw for liberty
and home. He was more excited than anxious as
he thought of it, and it certainly did seem as if
all the chances were in his favour, and that fortune
UNBENDING THE BOW.
159
must have forsaken him indeed, if anything were
allowed to prevent his escape.
CHAPTER VIII.
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 wooden palings, 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 the further end to set up
the goal-posts. The rest lounged idly about
without attempting to begin operations, except
the new boy Kiffin, who was seen walking apart
from the rest, diligently studying the "rules of
the game of football," as laid down in a small
"Roy's Own Pocket Rook and Manual of Outdoor
Sports," with which he had been careful to pro¬
vide himself.
At last Tipping suggested that they had
i6o
VICE VERSA.
better begin, and proposed that Mr. blink-horn
and himself should toss up for the choice of sides,
and this being done, Air Bultitude presently, to
his great dismay, heard his name mentioned. "I'll
have young Bultitude," said Tipping; "he used
to play up decently. Look here, you young beg¬
gar, you're on my side, and if you don't play up
it will be the worse for youl"
It was not worth while however to protest,
since lie would so soon be rid of the whole crew
for ever, and so Paul followed Tipping and his
train with dutiful submission, and the game began.
It was not a very spirited performance. Air.
Tinkler, who was not an athlete, retired at once
to the post and rails, on which he settled himself
to enjoy a railway novel with a highly stimulating
cover. Air. Blinkhorn, who had more conscientious
views of his office, charged about vigorously, per¬
forming all kinds of wonders with the ball, though
evidently more from a sense of duty than with
any idea of enjoyment.
Tipping occasionally took the trouble to op¬
pose him, but as a concession merely, and with
a parade of being under no necessity to do so;
and these two, with a very small following of
enthusiasts on either side, waged a private and
confidential kind of warfare in different parts of
the field, while the others made no pretence [of
playing for the present, but strolled about in
knots, exchanging and bartering the treasures
valuable in the sight of schoolboys, and gossiping
generally.
UNBENDING THE BOW. l6l
As for Paul, he did not clearly understand
what "playing up" might mean. He had not in¬
dulged in football since he was a genuine boy,
and then only in a rudimentary and primitive
form, and without any particular fondness for the
exercise. But being now, in spirit at all events,
a precise old gentleman, with a decided notion
of taking care of himself, he was resolved that
not even Tipping should compel him to trust his
person within range of that dirty brown globe,
which whistled past his ear or seemed spinning
towards his stomach with such a hideous sue-
gestion of a cannon-ball about it.
All the ghastly instances, too, of accident to
life and limb in the football field came unpleas¬
antly into his memory, and he saw the inadvisa-
bility of mingling with the crowd and allowing
himself to be kicked violently on the shins.
So he trotted industriously about at a safe
distance in order to allay suspicion, while waiting
for a good opportunity to put his scheme of escape
into execution.
At last he could wait no longer, for the
fearful thought occurred to him that, if he remained
there much longer, the Doctor—who, as he knew
from Dick, always came to superintend, if not to
share the sports of his pupils—-might make his
appearance, and then his chance would be lost for
the present, for he knew too well that he should
never find courage to ask permission from him.
With a beating heart he went up to Mr.
M
11>2
VICE VERSA.
Tinkler, who was still on the fence with his novel,
and asked as humbly as he could bring himself to do:
"If you please, sir, will you allow me to go
home? I'm—I'm not feeling at all well."
"Not well! What's the matter with your"
said Mr. Tinkler, without looking up.
Paul had not prepared himself for details,
and the sudden question rather threw him off his
guard.
"A slight touch of liver," he said at length.
"It takes me after meals sometimes."
"Liverl" 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 ex¬
pressly warned me against taking any violent
exercise soon after luncheon. If you knew what
liver is, you wouldn't say sol"
Mr. Tinkler stared, as well he might, but
making nothing of it, and being 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 dow. He knew he would have little diffi¬
culty in finding his way to the station, and, once
there, he would have the whole afternoon in which
to wait for a train 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 the
fates themselves to stop me now!"
UNBENDING THE BOW.
But the fates are ladies, and—not of course that
it follows — occasionally spiteful. It is very rash
indeed to be ungallant enough to defy them—
they have such unpleasant habit of accepting the
challenge.
Mr. Bultitude had hardly got clear of the
groups scattered about the field, when he met a
small flaxen-haired boy, who was just coming down
to join the game. It was Porter, his neighbour
of the German lesson.
"There you are, Bultitude, then," he said in
his squeaky voice: "I want you."
"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 his jacket. "I want that
rabbit."
This outrageous demand took Mr. Bultitude's
breath away. He had no idea what rabbit was
referred to, or why he should be required to
produce such an animal at a moment's notice.
This was the second time an inconvenient small
boy had interfered between him and liberty. He
would not 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't indeed. 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 give me my rabbit
He says he doesn't know anything about it now!"
M*
VICE VERSA.
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
say what he's done with it!"
Mr. Bultitude was not usually ready of re¬
source, but now he had what seemed a happy
thought.
"Gad!" he cried, pretending to recollect it,
"so I did — to be sure, a rabbit, 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 it turned out yesterday,
and there was no rabbit then. Besides, how could
a rabbit live in a playbox? He's telling lies. I
can see it by his face. He hasn't any rabbit 1"
"Of course I haven't!" said Mr. Bultitude.
"How should I? I'm not a conjuror. It's not a
habit of mine to go about with rabbits concealed
on my person. What's the use of coming to
me like this? It's absurd, you know; perfectly
absurd!"
The crowd increased until there was quite a
UNBENDING THE BOW.
165
ring formed round Mr. Bultitude and the indignant
claimant, and presently Tipping came bustling up.
"What's the row here, you fellows?" he said.
"Bultitude again, of course. What's he been
doing now?"
"He had a rabbit he said he was keeping for
me," explained little Porter: "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 an¬
noyed by this unlooked-for interruption, and still
more by such utterly preposterous claims on him
for animals; however, it was easy to explain that
he had no such things in his possession, and after
that of course no more could be said. He was
beginning to disclaim all liability, when Siggers
stopped him,
"Keep that for the present," he said. "I say,
we ought to have a regular trial over this, and
get at the truth of it properly. Let's fetch him
along to the goal-posts and judge him!"
He fixed upon the goal posts as being some¬
how more formal, and, as his proposal was well
received, two of them grasped Mr. Bultitude by the
collar and dragged him along in procession to the
appointed spot between the two flags, while Siggers
followed in what he conceived to be a highly
judicial manner, and evidently enjoying himself
prodigiously.
Paul, though highly indignant, allowed him-
VICE VERSA.
self to be led along without resistance. It was
safest to humour them, for after all it would
not last long, and when they were tired of bait¬
ing him he could watch his time 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.
"You chaps had better all be jurymen," he said.
"I'll be judge, and unless he makes a clean
breast of it," he added with judicial impartiality,
"the court will jolly well punch his ugly young
head off."
Siggers' father was an Old Bailey barrister
in good and rather sharp practice, so that it was
clearly the son's mission to preside on this oc¬
casion. But unfortunately his hour of office was
doomed to be a brief one, for Mr. Blinkhorn, be¬
coming aware that the game was being still more
scantily supported, and noticing the crowd at the
goal, came up to know the reason of it at a long
camel-like trot, his hat on the back of his head,
his mild face flushed with exertion, and his pebble
glasses gleaming in the winter sunshine.
"What are you all doing here? Why don't
you join the game? I've come here to play foot¬
ball with you, and how can I do it if you all slink
off and leave me to play by myself?" he asked
with pathos.
"Please, sir," said Siggers, alarmed at the
threatened loss of his dignity, "it's a trial, and
I'm judge."
UNliENDINC, TIIE BOW.
16;
"Yes, sir," the whole ring shouted together.
"We're trying Bultitude, sir."
On the whole, perhaps, Mr. Bultitude was glad
of this interference. At least justice would be done
now, although his usher had blundered so unpar-
donably that morning.
"This is childish, you know," said Mr. Blink-
horn, "and it's not football. The Doctor will be
seriously angry if he comes and sees you trifling
here. Let the boy go."
"But he's cheated some of the fellows, sir,"
grumbled Tipping and Siggers 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 off without being made to
keep his word."
"If there is any dispute between you and
Bultitude," said Mr. Blinkhorn, "I have no ob¬
jection to settle it — provided it is within my
province."
"Settle it without me," said Paul hurriedly.
"I've leave to go home. I'm ill."
"Who gave you leave to go home?" asked
the master.
"That young man over there 011 the rails,"
said Paul.
"I am the proper person to apply to for
leave; you know that well enough," said Mr.
Blinkhorn with a certain coldness in his tone.
"Now then, Porter, what is all this business
about?"
VICE VERSA.
"Please, sir," said Porter, "he told me last
term he had a lot of rabbits at home, and if I
liked he would bring me back a lop-eared one and
let me have it cheap, and I gave him two shillings,
sir, and sixpence for a hutch to keep it in; and
now he pretends he doesn't know any thing
about it!"
To Paul's horror two or three other boys came
forward with much the same tale. lie remembered
now that during the holidays he had discovered
that Dick was maintaining a sort of amateur me¬
nagerie in his bedroom, and that he had ordered
the whole of the live-stock to be got rid of or
summarily destroyed.
Now it seemed that the wretched Dick had
already disposed of it to these clamorous boys,
and, what was worse, had stipulated with consider¬
able forethought for payment in advance. Tor the
first time he repented his paternal harshness. Like
the netted lion, a paltry white mouse or two would
have set him free; but, less happy than the beast
in the fable, he had not onel
He tried to stammer out excuses. "It's ex¬
tremely unfortunate," he said, "but the fact is I'm
not in a position to meet this—this sudden call
upon me. Some other day, perhaps—"
"None of your long words, now," growled
Tipping. (Boys hate long words as much as even
a Saturday Reviewer.I "Why haven't you brought
the rabbits?"
"Yes," said Mr. Blinkhorn. "Why, having
promised to bring the rabbits with you, haven't
UNBENDING THE BOW.
IC9
you kept your word ? You must be able to give
some explanation."
"Because," said Mr. Bultitude, wriggling with
embarrassment, "I-—that is my father—found out
that my young rascal of a son—I mean his young
rascal of a son me, you know), was, contrary to
my express orders, keeping a couple of abomin¬
able rabbits in his bedroom, and a quantity of
filthy little white mice which he tried to train to
climb up the bannisters. 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?—my father, of course, he put a stop to
it; and, in point of fact, had them all drowned in
a pail of water."
It might be thought that he had an excellent
opportunity here of avowing himself, but there
was the risk that Mr Blinkhorn would disbelieve
him, and with the boys, he felt that the truth
would do anything but increase his popularity.
But dissembling fails sometimes outside the copy¬
books, and Mr. Bultitude's rather blundering at¬
tempt at it only landed him in worse difficulties.
There was a yell of rage and disappointment
from the defrauded ones, who had cherished a
lingering hope that young Bultitude had those
rabbits somewhere, but like Mr. Barkis and his
china lemon) found himself unable to part with
them when the time came to fulfil his contract.
And as contempt is a frame of mind highly sti¬
mulating to one's self-esteem, even those who had
170
VICE VERSA.
no personal interest in the matter joined in the
execrations with hearty goodwill and sympathy.
"Why did you let him do it? They were
ours, not his. What right had your governor to
go and drown our rabbits, eh?" they cried
wrathfully.
"What right?" said Paul. "Mustn't a man
do as he pleases in his own house, 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 with hoots, and groans, and
hisses.
Mr. Blinkhorn meanwhile was pondering the
affair conscientiously. At last he said, "But you
know the Doctor would never allow animals to
be kept in the school, if Bultitude had brought
them. The whole thing is against the rules, and
I shall not interfere."
"Ah, but," said Chawner, "he promised them
all to day-boarders. The Doctor 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 to do, I'm sure you won't object to do
what is fair and right in the matter?"
"I don't think I quite follow you," said Mr.
Bultitude. But he dreaded what was coming next.
"It's very simple. You have taken money
from these boys, and if you can't give them
UNBENDING THE BOW.
171
value for it, you ought to return all you took
from them. I'm sure you see that yourself."
"I don't admit that I owe them anything,"
said Paul; "and at all events it is highly inconvenient
to pay them now."
"If your own sense of honour isn't enough,"
said Mr. Blinkhorn, "I must take the matter into
my own hands. Let every boy who lias any
claim upon him 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 five shillings
—all Paul had in the world, the one rope by
which he could ever hope to haul himself up to
his lost pinnacle!
Mr. Blinkhorn, naturally enough, saw no
reason why the money, being clearly due, should
not be paid at once. "Give me any money you
have about you, Bultitude," he said, "and I'll
satisfy your debts with it, as far 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't understand. If they only give me time they
shall have double their money back—waggon-loads
of rabbits, the best rabbits money can buy—if
they'll wait. Tell them to wait! My dear sir,
don't see me wronged! I won't pay now!"
VICE VERSA.
"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, if you knew!
That infernal Garuda Stone! What fools people
are 1"
Then in his despair he did the most fatal
thing possible. He tried to save himself by
flight, and with a violent plunge broke through
the circle and made for the road which led towards
the station.
Instantly the whole school, only too glad of
the excitement, was at his heels. The unhappy
old merchant ran as he had not run for a quarter
of a century, faster even than he had on his first
experience of Coggs' and Coker's society on that
memorable Monday night. But in spite of his
efforts the chase was a short one. Chawner and
Tipping very soon had him by the collar, and
brought him back, struggling and kicking out
viciously, to Mr. Blinkhorn, whose good opinion
he had now lost for ever.
"Please, sir," said Chawner, "I can feel some¬
thing like a purse in his pocket. 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 efforts to retain it, it was taken
from him, its contents equitably divided amongst
the claimants, and the purse itself returned to him
—empty.
UNBENDING THE BOW.
173
Now, Multitude lost what little temper he
had yet to lose; he flung the useless purse from
him and broke away from them all in a condition
little removed from insanity.
Leave the field 1 What a mockery the per¬
mission was now. How was he to get home, a
distance of more than fifty miles, without a penny
in his pocket? Ten minutes before, and freedom
was within his grasp, and now it had 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 popular indignation against
young Bultitude's hitherto unsuspected meanness
growing more marked every instant.
It might have even taken some decided and
objectionable form before long, 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 the Doctor's portly and imposing
figure could be seen just turning the corner 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 a good
humour, and he cheated himself into believing that,
at some interval in the game, he might perhaps
find courage to draw near and seek to interest
him in his incredible woes.
It was quite extraordinary to see how the
VICE \ LKSA.
game, which had hitherto decidedly languished
and hung lire, now quickened into briskness and
became positively spirited. Everyone developed a
hearty interest in it, and it would almost seem as
if the boys, with more delicacy than they are
generally credited with, were unwilling to let their
master guess how little his indulgence was really
appreciated. Even Mr. Tinkler, whose novel had
kept him spell-bound on his rail all through the
recent excitement, now slipped it hurriedly into
his pocket and rushed energetically into the fray,
shouting encouragement rather indiscriminately to
either side, till he had an opportunity of finding
out privately to which leader he had been assigned.
Dr. Grimstone came down the field at a
majestic slow trot, calling out to the players as
he came on—"Well done, Mutlow! Finely played,
sirl Dribble it along now. Ah, you're afraid of
it! Run into it, sir, run into it! No running with
the ball now, Siggers; play without those petty
meannesses, or leave the game! There, leave the
ball to me, will you—leave it to me!"
And, as the ball had rolled in his direction,
he punted it up in an exceedingly dignified man¬
ner, the whole school keeping respectfully apart,
until he had brought it to a reasonable distance
from the goal, when he kicked it through with
great solemnity, amidst faint, and it is to be
feared somewhat sycophantic applause, and turned
away with the air of a man surfeited of success.
"For which side did I win that?" he asked
presently, whereupon Tipping explained that his
UNBENDING THE IloW.
I/1 77
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 distin¬
guished did not seem precisely overwhelmed with
pleasure at the compliment, which, as they knew
from experience, implied considerable exertion
on their part, and even disgrace if they were un¬
successful.
The other side too looked unhappy, feeling
themselves in a position of extreme delicacy and
embarrassment. For if they played their best,
they ran some risk of offending the Doctor, or,
what was worse, drawing him over into their
ranks; while if, on the other hand, they allowed
themselves to be too easily worsted, they might
be suspected of sulkiness and temper—offences
which he was very ready to discover and resent.
Dr. Grimstone for his part enjoyed the exer¬
cise, and had no idea that he was not a thoroughly
welcome and valued playmate. But though it
was pleasant to outsiders to see a schoolmaster
permitting himself to share in the recreation of
his pupils, it must be owned that to the latter
the advantages of the arrangement seemed some¬
thing more than dubious.
Mr. Bultitude, being on the side adopted by
the Doctor, found too soon that he was expected
to bestir himself. More than ever anxious now
to conciliate, he did his very best to conquer his
natural repugnance and appear more interested
1/4j
VICE VERSA.
and alarmed as the ball came in his way; but
although (to use a boating expression) he "su¬
gared" with some adroitness, he was promptly
found out, for his son had been a dashing and
plucky player.
It was bitter for him to run meekly about
while scathing sarcasms and comments on his
want of courage were being hurled at his head.
It shattered the scanty remnants of his self-respect,
but he dared not protest or say a single word to
open the Doctor's eyes to the injustice he was
doing him.
He was unpleasantly reminded, too, of the
disfavour he had acquired amongst his companions,
by some one or other of them running up to him
every moment when the Doctor's attention was
called elsewhere, and startling his nerves by a
sly jog or pinch, or an abusive epithet hissed
viciously into his ears—Chawner being especially
industrious in this respect.
And in this unsatisfactory way the afternoon
dragged along until the dusk gathered and the
lamps were lighted, and it became too dark to
see goal-posts or ball.
By the time play was stopped and the school
re-formed for the march home, Rlr. Bultitude felt
that he was glad even to get back to labour as
a relief from such a form of enjoyment. It was
perhaps the most miserable afternoon he had ever
spent in his whole easy-going life. In the course
of it he had passed from brightest hope to utter
despair; and now nothing remained to him but to
A LETTER FROM IIOME.
177
convince the Doctor, which he felt quite unequal
to do, or to make his escape without money—
which would inevitably end in a recapture.
May no one who reads this ever be placed
upon the horns of such a dilemma 1
CHATTER IX.
A LETTER FROM HOME.
"H^re are a few of the unpleasaute^t words
That ever blotted paper. . . .
A letter,
And every word in it a gaping wound."
Merchant of Venice.
If it were not that it was so absolutely essential
to the interest of this story, I think I should
almost prefer to draw a veil over the sufferings
of Mr. Bultitude during the rest of that unhappy
week at Crichton House; but it would only be
false delicacy to do so.
Things went worse and worse with him. The
real Dick in his most objectionable moods could
never have contrived to render himself one quarter
so disliked and suspected as his substitute was
by the whole school—masters and boys.
It was in a great measure his own fault, too;
for to an ordinary boy the life there would not
have had any intolerable hardships, if it held out
no exceptional attractions. But he would not ac-
VICE VERSA.
commodate himself to circumstances, and try,
during his enforced stay, to get as much in¬
struction and enjoyment as possible out of his
new life.
Perhaps, in his position, it would be too much
to expect such a thing and, at all events, it never
even occurred to him to attempt it. He consumed
himself instead with inward raging and chafing at
his hard lot, and his utter powerlessness tw> break
the spell which bound him.
Sometimes, indeed , he would resolve te bear
it no longer, and would start up impulsively to
impart his misfortunes to some one in minor
authority-—not the Doctor, he had given that up
in resigned despair long since. But as surely as
ever he found himself coming to the point, the
words would stick fast in his throat, and he was
only too thankful to get away, with his tale
untold, on any frivolous pretext that first suggested
itself.
This, of course, brought him into suspicion,
for such conduct had the appearance of a systematic
course of practical joking, and even the most
impartial teachers will sometimes form an un¬
favourable opinion of a particular boy on rather
slender grounds, and then find fresh confirmation
of it in his most insignificant actions.
As for the school generally, his scowls and
his sullenness, his deficiency in the daring and
impudence that had warmed their hearts towards
Dick, and, above all, his strange knack of getting
them into trouble—for he seldom received what
i
A LETTER FROM HOME.
179
he considered an indignity without making a formal
complaint—all this brought him as much hearty
dislike and contempt as, perhaps, the most
unsympathetic boy ever earned since boarding-
schools were first invented.
The only boy who still seemed to retain a
secret tenderness for him as the Dick he had once
looked up to and admired, was Jolland, who
persisted in believing, and in stating his belief,
that this apparent change of demeanour was a
perverted kind of joke on Bultitude's part, which
lie would condescend to explain some day when it
had gone far enough, and he wearied and annoyed
Paul beyond endurance by perpetually urging him
to abandon his ill-judged experiment and discover
the point of the jest.
But forjolland's help, which he persevered in
giving in spite of the opposition and unpopularity-
it brought upon himself, Mr. Bultitude would have
found it impossible to make any pretence of per¬
forming the tasks required of him.
He found himself expected, as a matter of
course, to have a certain familiarity with Greek
paradigms and German conversation scraps,
propositions in Euclid and Latin gerunds, of all
of which, having had a strict commercial education
in his young days, he had not so much as heard
before his metamorphosis. But by carefully
copying Jolland's exercises, and introducing enough
mistakes of his own to supply the necessary local
colour, he was able to escape to a great degree
the discovery of his blank ignorance on all these
\Ti
VICE VERSA.
subjects—an ignorance which would certainly
have been put down as mere idleness and ob¬
stinacy.
But it will be readily believed that he lived in
constant fear of such discovery, and as it was, his
dependence on a little scamp like his son's friend
was a sore humiliation to one who had naturally
supposed hitherto that any knowledge he had not
happened to acquire could only be meretricious
and useless.
He led a nightmare sort of existence for some
days, until something happened which roused him
from his state of passive misery into one more
attempt at protest.
It was Saturday morning, and he had come
down to breakfast, after being knocked about as usual
in the dormitory over night, with a dull wonder
how long this horrible state of things could
possibly be going to last, when he saw on his
plate a letter with the Paddington post-mark,
addressed in a familiar hand—his daughter
Barbara's.
P"or an instant his hopes rose high. Surely
the impostor had been found out at last, and the
envelope would contain an urgent invitation to him
to come back and resume his rights—an invitation
which he might show to the Doctor as his best
apology.
But when he looked at the address, which
was "Master Richard Bultitude," he felt a mis¬
giving. It was nnhkely that B irbara would address
A I. E ITER FROM HOME.
him thus if she knew the truth; he hesitated before
tearing it open.
Then he tried to persuade himself that of
course she would have the sense to keep up
appearances for his own sake on the outside of
the letter, and he compelled himself to open
the envelope with fingers that trembled nervously.
The very first sentences scattered his faint
expectations to the winds. He read on with staring
eyes, till the room seemed to rock with him like
a packet-boat, and the sprawling school-girl hand¬
writing, crossed and recrossed on the thin paper,
changed to letters of scorching flame. But perhaps
it will be better to give the letter in full, so that the
reader may judge for himself whether it was calculated
or not to soothe and encourage the exiled one.
Here it is:
"My dearest darling Dick, — I hope you have
not been expecting a letter from me before this,
but I had such lots to tell you that I waited till
I had time to tell it all at once. For I have such
news for you! You can't think how pleased you
will be when you hear it. Where shall I begin?
I hardly know, for it still seems so funny and
strange—almost like a dream—only I hope we
shall never wake up
"I think I must tell you anyhow, just as it
comes. Well, ever since you went away (how was
it you never came up to say good-bye to us in
the drawing-room? We couldn't believe till we
heard the door shut that you really had driven
I 53
VICE VERSA.
away without another word!) Where am I? 0hf
ever since you went away, dear papa has been
completely changed; you would hardly believe it
unless you saw him. He is quite jolly and
boyish—only fancy! and we are always telling him
he is the biggest baby of us all, but it only makes
him laugh Once, you know, he would have been
awfully angry if we had even hinted at it.
"Do you know, I really think that the real
reason he was so cross and sharp with us that last
week was because you were going away; for now
the wrench of parting is over, he is quite light-
hearted again. You know how he always hates
showing his feelings.
"He is so altered now, you can't think. He
has actually only once been up to the city since
you left, and then he came home at four o'clock,
and he seems to quite like to have us all about
him. Generally he stays at home all the morning
and plays at soldiers with baby in the dining-
room. You would laugh to see him loading the
cannons with real powder and shot, and he didn't
care a bit when some of it made holes in the
sideboard and smashed the looking-glass.
"We had such fun the other afternoon; we
played at brigands—papa and all of us. Papa had
the upper conservatory for a robber-cave, and stood
there keeping guard with your pop-gun; and he
wouldn't let the servants go by without a kiss,
unless they showed a written pass from us! Miss
McFadden called in the middle of it, but she said
she wouldn't come in, as papa seemed to be en-
A LETTER FROM HOME. 183
joying himself so. Boaler has given warning, but
we can't think why. We have been out nearly
every evening—once to Hengler's and once to the
Christy Minstrels, and last night to the Pantomime,
where papa was so pleased with the clown that
he sent round afterwards and asked him to dine
here on Sunday, when Sir Benjamin and Lady
Bangle and Alderman Fishwick are coming. Won't
it be jolly to see a clown close to ? Should you
think he'd come in his evening dress? Miss
Mangnall has been given a month's holiday, be¬
cause papa didn't like to see us always at lessons.
Think of that!
"We are going to have the whole house done
up and refurnished at last. Papa chose the furni¬
ture for the drawing-room yesterday It is all in
yellow satin, which is rather bright, I think. I
haven't seen the carpet yet, but it is to match
the furniture; and there is a lovely hearthrug, with
a lion-hunt worked on it.
"But that isn't the best of it; we are going
to have the big children's party after all! No one
but children invited, and everyone to do exactly
what they like. I wanted so much to have you
home for it, but papa says it would only unsettle
you and take you away from your work.
"Had Dulcie forgotten you? I should like to
see her so much. Now I really must leave off,
as I am going to the Aquarium with papa. Mind
you write me as good a letter as this is, if that
old Doctor lets you. Minnie and Roly send love
and kisses, and papa sends his kind regards, and
vice versa.
I am to say lie hopes you are settling down steadily
to work.
"With best love, your affectionate sister,
"Barbara Bultitude.
"P.S.—I nearly forgot to say that Uncle Duke
came other day and has stayed here ever since,
lie is going to make papa's fortune! 1 believe
by a gold mine he knows about somewhere, and
a steam tramway in Lapland. But I don't like him
very much—he is so polite."
It would be nothing short of an insult to the
reader's comprehension, if I were to enter into an
elaborate explanation of the effect this letter had
upon Mr. Bultitude. He took it in by degrees,
trying to steady his nerves at each additional item
of poor Barbara's well-meant intelligence by a sip
at his tin-flavoured coffee. But when he came to
the postscript, in spite of its purport being merci¬
fully broken to him gradually by the extreme diffl-
-culty of making it out from two undercurrents of
manuscript, he choked convulsively and spilt his
coffee.
Dr. (irimstone visited this breach of etiquette
with stern promptness. "This conduct at table
is disgraceful, sir — unworthy of a civilised being.
I have been a teacher of youth for many years,
and never till now did I have the pain of seeing
a pupil of mine choke in his breakfast-cup with
such deplorable ill-breeding. It's pure greediness,
sir, and you will have the goodness to curb your
indecent haste in consuming your food for t e
A LETTER FROM HOME.
.85
future. Your excellent father has frequently com¬
plained to me, with tears in his eyes, of the im¬
possibility of teaching you to behave at meals
with common propriety!"
There was a faint chuckle along the tables,
and several drank coffee with studied elegance and
self-repression, either as a valuable example to
Dick, or as a personal advertisement. But Paul
was in 110 mood for reproof and instruction. He
stood up in his excitement, flourishing his letter
wildly.
"Dr. Grimstone!" he said; "never mind my
behaviour now I've something to tell you. I
can't bear it any longer. I must go home at
once, sir!"
There was a general sensation at this, for his
manner was peremptory and almost dictatorial. Some
thought he would get a licking on the strength
of it, and most hoped so. But the Doctor dis¬
missed them to the playground, keeping Paul back
to be dealt with in privacy.
Mrs. Grimstone played nervously with her dry
toast at the end of the table, for she could not
endure to see the boys in trouble and dreaded a
scene, while Dulcie looked on with wide bright
eyes.
"Now, sir," said the Doctor, looking up from
his marmalade, "why must you go home at
once ?"
"I've just had a letter," stammered Paul.
"No one ili at home, I hope?"
"No, no," said Paul. "It's not that; it's
VICE VERSA.
worse! She doesn't know what horrible things she
tells me!"
"Who is 'she'?" said the Doctor — and Dulcie's
eyes were larger still and her face paled.
"I decline to say," said Mr Multitude. It would
have been absurd to say "my daughter," and he
had not presence of mind just then to transpose
the relationships with neatness and success. "But
indeed I am wanted most badly!"
"What are you wanted for, pray?"
"Everything!" declared Paul; "it's all going
to rack and ruin without me!"
"That's absurd," said the Doctor; "you're not
such an important individual as all that, Master
Bultitude. But let me see the letter."
Show him the letter — lay bare all those fol¬
lies of Dick's, the burden of which he might have
to bear himself very shortly—never! Besides, what
would be the use of it? It would be no argument
in favour of sending him home—rather the reverse
—so Paul was obliged to say, "Excuse me, Dr.
Grimstone, it is—ah — of a private nature. I don't
feel at liberty to show it to any one."
"Then, sir," said the Doctor, with some
reason, "if you can't tell me who or what it is
that requires your presence at home, and decline
to show me the letter which would presum. b'y
give me some idea on the subject, how do you
expect that I am to listen to such a preposterous
demand—eh? Just tell me that!"
Once more would Paul have given words for
the firmness and presence of mind to state his
A LETTER FROM HOME.
18;
case clearly and effectively; and he could hardly
have had a better opportunity, for schoolmasters
cannot always be playing the tyrant, and the
Doctor was, in spite of his attempts to be stern,
secretly more amused than angry at what seemed
a peculiarly precocious piece of effrontery.
But Paul felt the dismal absurdity of his
position. Nothing he had said, nothing he could
say, short of the truth, would avail him, and the
truth was precisely what he felt most unable to
tell. He hung his head resignedly, and held his
tongue in confusion.
"Pooh!" said the Doctor at last; "let me
have no more of this temfoolery, Bultitude. It's
getting to be a positive nuisance. Don't come to
me with any more of these ridiculous stories, or
some day I shall be annoyed. There, go away,
and be contented where you are, and try to behave
like other people."
"Contented!" muttered Paul, when out of
hearing, as he went upstairs and through the
empty schoolroom into the playground. '"Behave
like other people!' Ah, yes, I suppose I shall
have to come to that in time. But that letter
Everything upside down Bangle asked to meet
a common clown! That fellow Duke letting me
in for gold-mines and tramways! It's all worse
than I ever dreamed of; and I must stay here
and be 'contented'! It's—it's perfectly damnable!"
All through that morning his thoughts ran in
the same doleful groove, until the time for work
came to an end, and he found himself in the play-
VICE VERSA.
ground, and free to indulge his melancholy for a
few minutes in solitude; for the others were still
loitering about in the schoolroom, and a glass
outhouse originally intended for a conservator}',
but now devoted to boots and slates, and the
books liberally besmeared with gilt, and telling of
the exploits of boy-heroes so beloved of boys.
Mr. Bultitude, only too delighted to get away
from them for a little while, was leaning against
the parallel bars in dull despondency, when he
heard a rustling in the laurel hedge which cut off
the house garden from the gravelled playground,
and looking up, saw Dulcie slip through the shrubs
and come towards him with an air of determination
in her proud little face.
She looked prettier and daintier than ever in
her grey plush hat and warm fur tippet; but of
course Paul was not of the age or in the mood
to be much affected by such things—he turned
his head pettishly away.
"It's no use doing that, Dick," she said: "I'm
tired of sulking. I shan't sulk any more till I
have an explanation."
Paul made the sound generally written "Pshaw!"
"You ought to tell me everything. I will
know it. Oh, Dick, you might tell me! I always
told you anything you wanted to know; and 1 let
mamma think it was I broke the clock-shade last
term, and you know you did it. And I want to
know something so very badly!"
"It's no use coming to me, you know," said
Paul. "I can't do anything for you."
A LETTER FROM HOME.
I So
"Yes, you can; you know you can!" said
Dulcie impulsively. "You can tell me what was
in that letter you had at breakfast—and you shall
tool"
"What an inquisitive little girl you are," said
Paul sententious])'. "It's not nice for little girls
to be so inquisitive—it doesn t look well."
"I knew it!" cried Dulcie;"you don't want to
tell me—because—because it's from that other
horrid girl you like better than me. And you
promised to belong to me for ever and ever, and
now it's all over! Say it isn't! Oh, Dick, promise
to give the other girl up. I'm sure she's not a
nice girl. She's written you an unkind letter; now
hasn't she?"
"Upon my word," said Paul, "this is very for¬
ward; at your age too. Why, my Barbara "
"Your Barbara 1 you dare to call her that?
Oh, I knew I was right; I will see that letter
now. Give it me this instant 1" said Dulcie im¬
periously; and Paul really felt almost afraid of her.
"No, no," he said, retreating a step or two,
"it's all a mistake; there's nothing to get into
such a passion about—there isn't indeed! And—
don't cry—-you're really a pretty little girl. I only
wish I could tell you everything; but you'd never
believe me 1"
"Oh, yes, I would, Dick!" protested Dulcie,
only too willing to be convinced of her boy-lover's
constancy; "I'll believe anything, if you'll only
tell me. And I'm sorry I was so angry. Sit
190
VICE Y1KSA.
down by me and tell me from the very beginning.
I promise not to interrupt."
Paul thought for a moment. After all, why
shouldn't he? It was much pleasanter to tell his
sorrows to her pretty little ear and hear her
childish wonder and pity than face her terrible
father he had tried that. And then she might
tell her mother; and so his story might reach
the Doctor's ears after all, without further effort
on his part.
"Well," he said at last, "I think you're a
good-natured little girl; you won't laugh. Perhaps
I will tell you!"
So he sat down on the bench by the wall,
and Dulcie, quite happy again now at this proof
of good faith, nestled up against him confidingly,
waiting for his first words with parted lips and
eager sparkling eyes.
"Not many days ago," began Paul, "I was
somebody very different from "
"Oh, indeed," said a jarring, sneering voice
close by; "was you?" And he looked up and saw
Tipping standing over him with a plainly hostile
intent.
"Go away, Tipping," said Dulcie; "we don't
want you. Dick is telling me a secret."
"He's very fond of telling, I know," retorted
Tipping. "If you knew what a sneak he was
you'd have nothing to do with him, Dulcie. I
could tell you things about him that "
"He's not a sneak," said Dulcie. "Are you,
Dick? Why don't you go, Tipping? Never mind
A LETTER FROM HOME.
191
what he says, Dick; go on as if he wasn't there.
I don't care what he saysl"
It was a most unpleasant situation for Mr.
Bultitude, but he did not like to offend Tipping.
"I—I think—some other time, perhaps," he said
nervously. "Not now."
"Ah, you're afraid to say what you were going
to say now I'm here," said the amiable Tipping,
nettled by Dulcie's little air of haughty disdain.
"You're a coward; you know you are. You
pretend to think such a lot of Dulcie here, but
you daren't fight 1"
"Fight!" said Mr. Bultitude. "Eh, what for?"
"Why, for her, of course. Yon can't care
much about her if you daren't fight for her. I
want to show her who's the best man of the
two 1"
"I don't want to be shown," wailed poor
Dulcie piteously, clinging to the reluctant Paul;
"I know. Don't fight with him, Dick. I say
you're not to."
"Certainly not!" said Mr. Bultitude with great
decision. "I shouldn't think of such a thing 1"
and he rose from the bench and was about to
walk away, when Tipping suddenly pulled off his
coat and began to make sundry demonstrations
of a martial nature, such as dancing aggressively
towards his rival and clenching his fists;
By this time most of the other boys had
come down into the playground, and were looking
on with great interest. There was an element of
romance in this promised combat which gave it
192
VICE VERSA.
additional attractions. It was like one of the
struggles between knightly champions in the
Waverley novels. Several of them would have
fought till they couldn't see out of their eyes if
it would have given them the least chance of ob¬
taining favour in Dulcie's sight, and they all en¬
vied Dick, who was the only boy that was not
unmercifully snubbed by their capricious little
princess.
Paul alone was blind to the splendour of his
privileges. He examined Tipping carefully, as the
latter was still assuming a hostile attitude and
chanting a sort of war-cry supposed to be an in¬
fallible incentive to strife. "Yah, you're afraid!"
he sang very offensively. "I wouldn't be afraid!
Cowardy, cowardy, custard!"
"Pooh!" said Paul at last; "go away, sir, go
away!"
"Go away, eh?" jeered Tipping. "Who are
you to tell me to go away? Go away yourself!"
"Certainly," said Paul, only too happy to
oblige. Rut he found himself prevented by a ring
of excited backers.
"Don't funk it, Dickl" cried some, forgetting
recent ill-feeling in the necessity for partisanship.
"Go in and settle him as you did that last time.
I'll second you. You can do it I"
"Don't hit each other in the face," pleaded
Dulcie, who had got upon a bench and was look¬
ing down into the ring—not, if the truth must be
told, without a certain pleasurable excitement in
the feeling that it was all about her.
A LETTER FROM HOME.
193
And now Mr. Bultitude discovered that he
was seriously expected to fight this great hulking
boy, and that the sole reason for any disagree¬
ment was an utterly unfounded jealousy respecting
this little girl Dulcie. He had not a grain of
chivalry in his disposition — chivalry being an
eminently unpractical virtue — and naturally he
saw no advantage in letting himself be mauled
for the sake of a child younger than his own
daughter.
Dulcie's appeal enraged Tipping, who took
it as addressed solely to himself. "You ought to
be glad to stick up for her," he said between his
teeth. "I'll mash you for this — see if I don't!"
Paul thought he saw his way clear to dis¬
abuse Tipping of his mistaken idea. "Are you
proposing," he asked politely, "to—to 'mash'
me on account of that little girl there on the
seat ?"
'-You'li soon see,' growled Tipping. "Shut
your head, and come on!"
"No, but I want to know," persisted Mr. Bul¬
titude. "Because," he said with a sickly attempt
at jocularity which delighted none, "you see, I
don't want to be mashed. I'm not a potato. If
I understand you aright, you want to fight me
because you think me likely to interfere with your
claim to that little girl's—ah—affections?"
"That's it," said Tipping gruffly, "so you'd
better waste no more words about it, and
come on."
"But I don't care about coming on," pro-
o
"94
VICE VERSA.
tested Paul earnestly. "It's all a mistake. I've
no doubt she's a very nice little girl, but I as¬
sure you, my good boy, I've no desire to stand
in your way for one instant. She's nothing to
me—nothing at all! I give her up to you. Take
her, young fellow, with my blessing! There, now,
that's all settled comfortably—eh?"
Me was just looking round with a self-satisfied
and relieved air, when he began to be aware that
his act of frank unselfishness was not as much
appreciated as it deserved. Tipping, indeed, looked
baffled and irresolute for one moment, but a low
murmur of disgust arose from the bystanders,
and even Jolland declared that it was "too beastly
mean."
As for Dulcie, she had been looking on in¬
credulously at her champion's unaccountable tar¬
diness in coming to the point. But this public
repudiation was too much for her. She gave a
little low cry as she heard the shameless words
of recantation, and then, without a word, jumped
lightly down from her bench and ran away to
hide herself somewhere and cry.
Even Paul, though he knew that he had done
nothing but what was strictly right, and had acted
purely in self-protection, felt unaccountably ashamed
of himself as he saw this effect of his speech.
But it was too late now.
the complete letter-writer. 11 5
CHAPTER X.
the complete letter-writer.
VcctierateJ y _,ucjii iu u-. ->1i sin^s—nay. as it 1- written, Ly
Mint n.,c tw itwhn .j*, q urn 11 .1 * A1 >: nt t to t „■ named
F'tncfl F. z .'uiicrt
• T.ls letter ema' a, ex. llently ijn< rant will Ireei n 1 lerr r 111
the \ uth. Tu. '!' .\ ,s 'I.
Mr. Bultitude had meant to achieve a double
stroke of diplomacy—to undeceive Dulcie and con¬
ciliate the love-sick Tipping. But whatever his
success may have been in the former respect, the
latter object failed conspicuously.
"You shan't get oft' by a shabby trick like
that,' said Tipping, exasperated by the sight of
Dulcie's emotion; "you've made her cry now, and
you shall smart for it. So, now, are you going
to stand up to me like a man, or will you take
a kicking?"
"I'm not going to help you to commit a
breach of the peace," said Paul with great dignity.
"Go away, you quarrelsome young ruffian! Get
one of your schoolfellows to fight you, if you
must fight. I don't want to be mixed up with
you in any way."
But at this Tipping, whose blood was evidently
at boiling point, came prancing down on him in
a Zulu-like fashion, swinging his long arms like a
o*
VICE VERSA.
windmill, and finding that his enemy made no
attempt at receiving him, but only moved away
apprehensively, he seized him by the collar as a
prelude to dealing him a series of kicks from behind.
Although Mr. Bultitude, as we have seen, was
opposed to fighting as a system, he could not
submit to this sort of thing without at least some
attempt to defend himself; and judging it of the
highest importance to disable his adversary in the
most effectual manner before the latter had time
to carry out his offensive designs, he turned sharply
round and hit him a very severe blow in the lower
part of his waistcoat.
The result fulfilled his highest expectations.
Tipping collapsed like a pocket-rule, and staggered
away speechless, and purple with pain, while Paul
stood calm and triumphant. He had shown these
fellows that he wasn't going to stand any non¬
sense. They would leave him alone after this,
perhaps.
But once more there were cries and murmurs
of "Shame!" "No hitting below the belt!" "Cad
—coward!"
It appeared that, somehow, he had managed
to offend their prejudices even in this. "It's very
odd," he thought; "when I didn't fight they called
me a coward, and now, when I do, I don't seem
to have pleased them much. I don't care, though.
I've settled him."
But after a season of protracted writhing by
the parallel bars, Tipping came out, still gasping
and deadly pale, leaning on Biddlecomb's shoulder.
THE COMPLETE LETTER-WRITER.
197
and was met with universal sympathy and condo¬
lence.
"Thanks!" he said with considerable effort.
"Of course — I'm not going—to fight him after a
low trick like that; but perhaps you fellows will
see that he doesn't escape quite as easily as he
fancies?"
There was a general shout. "No; he shall
pay for itl We'll teach him to fight fair! We'll
see if he tries that on again 1"
Paul heard it with much uneasiness. What
new devilry were they about to practise upon
him? lie was not left long in doubt.
"I vote," suggested Biddlecomb, as if he were
proposing a testimonial, "we make him run the
gauntlet. Grim won't come out and catch us. I
saw him go out for a drive an hour ago." And
the idea was very favourably entertained.
Paul had heard of "running the gauntlet,"
and dimly suspected that it was not an experience
he was likely to enjoy, particularly when he saw
everyone busying himself with tying the end of
his pocket-handkerchief into a hard knot. He tried
in vain to excuse himself, declaring again and
again that he had never meant to injure the boy.
He had only defended himself, and was under the
impression that he was at perfect liberty to hit
him wherever he could, and so 011. But they were
in no mood for excuses.
With a stern magisterial formality worthy of
a Vehm-Gericht, they formed in two long lines
down the centre of the playground; and while
VICE VERSA.
Paul was still staring in wonder at what this strange
manoeuvre might mean, somebody pounced upon
him and carried him up to one end of the ranks,
where Tipping had by slhs time sufficiently re¬
covered to be able to "set him going," as he
chose to call it, with a fairly effective kick.
After that he had a confused sense of flying
madly along the double line of avengers under a
hail of blows which caught him on every part of
his head, shoulders, and back till he reached the
end, where he was dexterously turned and sent
spinning up to Tipping again, who in his turn
headed him back on his arrival and forced him
to brave the terrible lane once more.
Never before had Mr. Bultitude felt so sore
and insulted. But they kept it up long after the
thing had lost its first freshness—until at last ex¬
haustion made them lean to mercy, and they
cuffed him ignominiously into a corner, and left
him to lament his ill-treatment there till the bell
rang for dinner, for which, contrary to pre¬
cedent, his recent violent exercise had excited little
appetite.
"I shall be killed soon if I stay here," he
moaned; "I know I shall. These young brigands
would murder me cheerfully, if they were not afraid
of being caned for it. I'm a miserable old man,
and I wish I was dead!"
Although that afternoon, being Saturday, was
a half-holiday, Mr. Bultitude was spared the ordeal
of another game at football; for a smart storm of
rain and sleet coming on about three o'clock kept
THE COMPLETE LETTER-WRITER. 199
the school —not altogether unwilling prisoners—
within doors for the day.
The boys sat in their places in their school¬
room, amusing themselves after their several
fashions—some reading, some making libellous
copies of drawings that took their fancy in the
illustrated papers, some playing games; others, too
listless to play and too dull to find pleasure in
the simplest books, filled up the time as well
as they could by quarrelling and getting into va¬
rious depths of hot water. Paul sat in a corner
pretending to read a story relating the experiences
of certain infants of phenomenal courage and cool¬
ness in the Arctic regions. They killed bears and
tamed walruses all through the book; but for the
first time, perhaps, since their appearance in print
their exploits fell flat. Not, however, that this
reflected any discredit upon the author's powers,
which are justly admired by all healthy-minded
boys; but it was beyond the power of literature
just then to charm Mr. Bultitude's thoughts from
the recollection of his misfortunes.
As he took in all the details of his sur¬
roundings—the warm close room; the raw-toned
desks and tables at which a rabble of unsympa¬
thetic boys were noisily whispering and chattering,
with occasional glances in his direction, from which,
taught by experience, he augured no good; the high
uncurtained windows, blurred with little stars of
half-frozen rain, and the bare, bleak branches of
the trees outside tossing drearily against a low
leaden sky—he tried in vain to cheat himself into
JOO
VICE VERSA.
a dreamy persuasion that all this misery could
not be real, but would fade away as suddenly and
mysteriously as it had stolen upon him.
Towards the close of the afternoon the Doc¬
tor came in and took his place at the writing-
table, where he was apparently very busy with
the composition of some sort of document, which
he finished at last with evident satisfaction at the
result of his labour. Then he observed that, ac¬
cording to their custom of a Saturday afternoon,
the hour before tea-time should be devoted to
"writing home."
So the books, chess-boards, and dominoes
were all put away, and a new steel pen and a
sheet of note-paper, neatly embossed with the
heading "Crichton House School" in old English
letters, having been served out to everyone, each
boy prepared himself to write down such things
as filial affection, strict truthfulness, and the desire
of imparting information might inspire between
them.
Paul felt, as he clutched his writing materials,
much as a shipwrecked mariner might be expected
to do at finding on his desolate island a good-
sized flag and a case of rockets. I lis hopes re¬
vived once more; he forgot the smarts left by
the knots in the handkerchiefs, he had a whole
hour before him—it was possible to set several
wires in motion for his release in an hour.
Yes, he must write several letters. First, one
to his solicitor, detailing as calmly and concisely
as his feelings would allow, the shameful way in
THE COMPLETE LETTER-WRITER. 2UI
which he had been treated, and imploring him to
take measures of some sort for getting him out
of his false and awkward position; one to his
head clerk, to press upon him the necessity of
prudence aud caution in dealing with the impostor;
notes to Bangle and Fishwick putting them off—
they should not be outraged by an introduction
to a vulgar pantomime clown under his roof; and
lastly (this was an outburst he could not deny
himself), a solemn impressive appeal to the com¬
mon humanity, if not to the ordinary filial in¬
stincts, of his undutiful son.
His fingers tingled to begin. Sentences of
burning, indignant eloquence crowded confusedly
into his head—he would write such letters as
would carry instant conviction to the most prac¬
tical and matter-of-fact minds. The pathos and
dignity of his remonstrances should melt even
Dick's selfish, callous heart
Perhaps he overrated the power of his pen-
perhaps it would have required more than mere
ink to persuade his friends to disbelieve their
own senses, and see a portly citizen of nearly
sixty packed into the frame of a chubby urchin
of fourteen. But, at all events, no one's faith was
put to so hard a test—those letters were never
written.
"Don't begin to write yet, any of you," said
the Doctor; I have a few words to say to you
first. In most cases, and as a general rule, I
think it wisest to let every boy commit to paper
whatever his feelings may dictate to him. I wish
202
VICE VERSA.
to claim no censorship over the style and diction
of jour letters. But there have been so many
complaints lately from the parents of some of the
less advanced of you, that I find mj'self obliged
to make a change. Your father particular!)-,
Richard Bultitude," he added, turning suddenly
upon the unlucky Paul, "has complained bitterly
of the slovenly tone and phrasing of your cor¬
respondence; he said very justly that they would
disgrace a stable-boy, and unless I could induce
you to improve them, he begged he might not
be annoyed by them in future."
It was by no means the least galling part of
Mr. Bultitude's trials, that former forgotten words
and deeds of his in his original condition were
constantly turning up at critical seasons, and
plunging him deeper into the morass just when he
saw some prospect of gaining firm ground.
So now, lie did remember that, being in a
more than usually bad temper one day last year,
he had, on receiving a sprawling, ill-spelt appli¬
cation from Dick for more pocket money, to buy
fireworks for the 5th of November, written to
make some such complaint to the schoolmaster.
He waited anxiously for the Doctor's next words;
he might want to read the letters before they
were sent off, in which case Paul would not be
displeased, for it would be an easier and less
dangerous way of putting the Doctor in possession
of the facts.
But his complaints were to be honoured by
a much more effectual remedy, for it naturally
TIIE COMPLETE LETTER-WRITER. 203
piqued the Doctor to be told that boys instructed
under his auspices wrote like stable-boys. "How¬
ever," he went on, "I wish your people at home
to be assured from time to time of your welfare,
and to prevent them from being shocked and
distressed in future by the crudity of your com¬
munications, I have drawn up a short form of
letter for the use of the lower boys in the second
form—which I shall now proceed to dictate. Of
course all boys in the first form, and all in the
second above Bultitude and Jolland, will write as
they please, as usual. Richard, I expect you to
take particular pains to write this out neatly.
Are you all ready? Very well then, . . . now;"
and he read out the following letter, slowly—
"My dear Parents or parent according to
circumstances) comma" all of which several took
down most industriously)—"You will be rejoiced
to hear that, having arrived with safety at our
destination, we have by this time fully resumed
our customary regular round of earnest work
relieved and sweetened by heart}' play. ("Have
you all got 'hearty play' down?" inquired the
Doctor rather suspiciously, while Jolland observed
in an undertone that it would take some time to
get that down. "I hope, I trust I may say without
undue conceit, to have made considerable progress
in my school-task before I rejoin the family circle
for the Easter vacation, as I think you will admit
when I inform you of the programme we intend"
p'D.Y. in brackets and capital letters"—as before,
this was taken down verbatim by Jolland, who
204
VICE VERSA.
probably knew very much betteri, "intend to work
out during the term.
"In Latin, the class of which I am a member
propose to thoroughly master the first book of
Virgil's magnificent Epic, need I say I refer to the
soul-moving story of the Pious /Eneas?" (Jolland
was understood by his near neighbour to remark
that he thought the explanation distinctly advis¬
able), "whilst, in Greek, we have already com¬
menced the thrilling account of the 'Anabasis' of
Xenophon, that master of strategy! nor shall we,
of course, neglect in either branch of study the
syntax and construction of those two noble lan¬
guages" — ("noble languages," echoed the writers
mechanically, contriving to insinuate a touch of
irony into the words).
"In German, under the able tutelage of Herr
Stohwasser, who, as I may possibly have mentioned
to you in casual conversation, is a graduate of
the University of Heidelberg" (/and a s'My old
hass," added Jolland parenthetically , "we have
resigned ourselves to the spell of the Teutonian
Shakespeare" (there was much difference of opi¬
nion, as to the manner of spelling the "Teutonian
Shakespeare"), "as, in my opinion, Schiller may
be not unaptly termed; and our French studies
comprise such exercises, and short poems and
tales, as are best calculated to afford an insight
into the intricacies of the Gallic tongue.
"Put I would not have you imagine, my dear
parents (or parent, as before?, that, because the
claims of the intellect have been thus amply pro-
THE COMPLETE LETTER-WRITER. 20 ;
vided for, the requirements of the body are neces¬
sarily overlooked!
"I have no intention of becoming a mere
bookworm, and, on the contrary, we have had
one excessively brisk and pleasant game at foot¬
ball already this season, and should, but for the
unfortunate inclemency of the weather, have engaged
again this afternoon in the mimic warfare.
"In the playground our favourite diversion is
the game of 'chevy,' so called from that engage¬
ment famed in ballad and history J allude to the
battle of Chevy Chase), and indeed, my dear
parents, in the rapid alternations of its fortunes
and the diversity of its incident, the game (to my
mind) bears a striking resemblance to the accounts
of that ever-memorable contest.
"I fear I must now relinquish my pen, as the
time allotted for correspondence is fast waning to
its close, and tea-time is approaching. Pray give
my kindest remembrances to all my numerous
friends and relatives, and accept my fondest love
and affection for yourselves, and the various other
members of the family circle.
"I am, I am rejoiced to say, in the enjoy¬
ment of excellent health, ad surrounded as I am
by congenial companions, and employed in inter¬
esting ahd agreeable pursuits, it is superfluous to
add that I am happy.
"And now, my dear parents, believe me, your
dutiful and affectionate son, so and so."
The Doctor finished his dictation with a roll
in his voice, as much as to say, "I think that will
20C)
VICE VERSA.
strike your respective parents as a chaste and
classical composition; I think so!"
But unexceptionable as its tone and sentiments
undoubtedly were, it was far from expressing the
feelings of Mr. Bultitude. The rest accepted it
not unwillingly as an escape from the fatigue of
original composition, but to him the neat, well
balanced sentences seemed a hollow mockery. As
he wrote down each successive phrase, he won¬
dered what Dick would think of it, and when at
last it was finished, the precious hour had gone
for another week I
In speechless disgust, but without protest, for
his spirit was too broken by this last cruel dis¬
appointment, he had to fold, put into an enve¬
lope, and direct this most misleading letter under
the Doctor's superintending eye, which of course
allowed him no chance of introducing a line or
even a word to counteract the tone of self-satis¬
faction and contentment which breathed in every
sentence of it.
He saw it stamped, and put into the postbag,
and then his last gleam of hope flickered out; he
must give up struggling against the Inevitable; he
must resign himself to be educated, and perhaps
flogged here, while Dick was filling his house
with clowns and pantaloons, destroying his repu¬
tation and damaging his credit at home. Perhaps,
in course of time, he would grow accustomed to
it, and, meanwhile, he would be as careful as pos¬
sible to do and say nothing to make himself re-
A DAY OF REST.
207
markable in any way, by which means he trusted,
at least, to avoid any fresh calamity.
And with this resolution he went to bed on
Saturday night, feeling that this was a dreary
finish to a most unpleasant week.
CHAPTER XI.
A DAY OF REST.
There was a letter indeed to be intercepted by a man's fathei
to do him good with him!"—Eve 7 r Man in bis ffterhtnt.
"I cannot lose the thought yet of this letter
Sent to my son; nor leave t' admire the change
(T manners, and the breeding of our youth
Within the kingdom, since myself was one."
—Ibid
SUNDAY came—a day which was to begin a new
week for Mr. Bultitude, and, of course, for the rest
of the Christian world as well. Whether that
week would be better or worse than the one
which had just passed away he naturally could
not tell—it could hardly be much worse.
But the Sunday itself, he anticipated, with¬
out, however, any very firm grounds for such an
assumption, would be a day of brief but grateful
respite; a day on which he might venture to
claim much the same immunity as was enjoyed in
the old days by the insolvent; a day, in short,
208
VICE VERSA.
which would glide slowly by with the rather
drowsy solemnity peculiar to the British sabbath
as observed by all truly respectable persons.
And yet that very Sunday, could he have
foreseen it, was destined to be the most eventful
day he had yet spent at Crichton Mouse, where
none had proved wanting in incident. During the
•next twelve hours he was to pass through every
variety of unpleasant feelings. Embarrassment,
suspense, fear, anxiety, dismay, and terror were to
follow each other in rapid succession, and to wind up,
strangely enough, with a delicious ecstasy of pure
relief and happiness—a fatiguing programme for
any middle-aged gentleman who had never
cultivated his emotional faculties.
Let me try to tell you how this came about.
The getting-up bell rang an hour later than on
week-days, but the boys were expected to prepare
certain tasks suitable for the day before they rose.
Mr. Bultitude found that he was required to learn
by heart a hymn in which the rhymes "join" and
"divine," "throne" and "crown," were so happily-
wedded that either might conform to other—a
graceful concession to individual taste which is not
infrequent in this class of poetry. Trivial as such
a task may seem in these days of School Boards,
it gave him infinite trouble and mental exertion,
for he had not been called upon to commit any¬
thing of the kind to memory for many years, and
after mastering that, there still remained a long
chronological list (the dates approximately com¬
puted) of the leading events before and immediately
A I)AV OF REST.
after the Deluge, which was to be repeated
"without looking at the book."
While he was wrestling desperately with
these, for he was determined, as I have said be¬
fore, to do all in his power to keep himself out
of trouble, Mrs. Grimstone, in her morning wrapper,
paid a visit to the dormitories and, in spite of all
Paul's attempts to excuse himself, insisted upon
pomatuming his hair—an indignity which he felt
acutely.
"When she knows who I really am," he
thought, "she'll be sorry she made such a point
of it. If there's one thing upon earth I loathe
more than another, it's marrow-oil pomade 1"
Then there was breakfast, at which Dr. Grim-
stone appeared, resplendent in glossy broadcloth,
and dazzling shirtfront and semi-clerical white tie,
and after breakfast, an hour in the schoolroom,
during which the boys (by the aid of repeated re¬
ferences to the text) wrote out "from memory"
the hymn they had learnt, while Paul managed
somehow to stumble through his dates and events
to the satisfaction of Mr. Tinkler, who, to increase
his popularity, made a point of being as easily
satisfied with such repetitions as he decently
could.
After that came the order to prepare for
church. There was a general rush to the little
room with the shelves and bandboxes, where church
books were procured, and great-coats and tight
kid gloves put on.
When they were almost ready the Doctor
2 IO
VICE \KKSA.
came in, wearing his blandest and most paternal
expression.
"A—it's a collection Sunday, to-day, boys,"
he said. "Have you all got your threepenny-bits
ready? I like to see my boys give cheerfully and
liberally of their abundance. If any boy does not
happen to have any small change, I can accom¬
modate him if he comes to me."
And this he proceeded to do from a store
he had with him of that most convenient coin—
the chosen expression of a congregation's gra¬
titude—the common silver threepence, for the
school occupied a prominent position in the church,
and had acquired a great reputation amongst the
churchwardens for the admirable uniformity with
which one young gentleman after another "put
into the plate;" and this reputation the Doctor
was naturally anxious that they should maintain.
I am sorry to say that Mr. Multitude, fearing
lest he should be asked if he had the required
sum about him, and thus his penniless condition
might be discovered and bring him trouble, got
behind the door at the beginning of the money-
changing transactions and remained there till it
was over—it seemed to him that it would be too
paltry to be disgraced for want of threepence.
Now, being thus completely furnished for
their devotions, the school formed in couples in
the hall and hied solemnly out for the march to
church.
Mr. Bultitude walked nearly last with Jolland.
whose facile nature had almost forgotten his friend's
A DAY OF REST.
21 I
shortcomings on the previous day. He kept up
a perpetual flow of chatter which, as he never
stopped for an answer, permitted Paul to indulge
his own thoughts unrestrained.
"Are you going to put your threepenny-bit
in?" said Jolland; "I won't if you don't. Some¬
times, you know, when the plate comes round,
old Grim squints down the pews to see we don't
shirk. Then I put in sixpence. Have you done
your hymn? I do hate a hymn. What's the use
of learning hymns? They won't mark you for
them, you know, in any exam. I ever heard of,
and it can't save you the expense of a hymnbook
unless you learnt all the hymns in it, and that
would take you years. Oh, I say, look! there's
young Mutlow and his governor and mater. I
wonder what Mutlow's governor does? Mutlow
says he's a 'gentleman' if you ask him, but I be¬
lieve he lies. See that fly driving past? Mother
Grim" (the irreverent youth always spoke of Mrs.
Grimstone in this way) "and Dulcie are in it. I
saw Dulcie look at you, Dick. It's a shame to
treat her as you did yesterday. There's young
Tom on the box; don't his ears stick out rum-
mily? I wonder if the 'ugly family' will be at
church to-day? You know the ugly family; all
with their mouths open and their eyes goggling,
like a jolly old row of pantomime heads. And
oh, Dick, suppose Connie Davenant's people have
changed their pew—that'll be a sell for you rather,
won't it?"
"I don't understand you," said Mr. Bultitude
2 f 2
VICE VERSA.
stiffly; "and, if you don't object, I prefer not to
be called upon to talk just now."
"Oh, all right 1" said Jolland, "there aren't so
many fellows who will talk to you; but just as
you please—I don't want to talk."
And so the pair walked on in silence; Jolland
with his nose in the air, determined that after this
he really must cut his former friend as the other
fellows had done, since his devotion was appreciated
so little, and Paul watching the ascending double
line of tall chimney-pot hats as they surged before
him in regular movement, and feeling a dull wonder
at finding himself setting out to church in such
ill-assorted company.
They entered the church, and Paul was sent
down to the extreme end of a pew next to the
one reserved for the Doctor and his family. Dulcie
was sitting there already on the other side of the
partition; but she gave no sign of having noticed
his arrival, being apparently absorbed in studying
the rose-window over the altar.
Me sat down in his corner with a sense of
rest and almost comfort, though the seat was not
a cushioned one. He had the inoffensive Kiffin
for a neighbour, his chief tormentors were far away
from him in one of the back pews, and here at least
he thought no harm could come to him. He
could allow himself safely to do what I am afraid
he generally did do under the circumstances—
snatch a few intermittent but sweet periods of
dreamless slumber.
But, while the service was proceeding, Mr.
A DAY OF REST.
213
Bultitude was suddenly horrified to observe that a
young lady, who occupied a pew at right angles
to and touching that in which he sat, was deliber¬
ately making furtive signals to him in a most
unmistakable manner.
She was a decidedly pretty girl of about
fifteen, with merry and daring blue eyes and curl-
ing golden hair, and was accompanied by two
small brothers iwho shared the same book and
dealt each other stealthy and vicious kicks through-
hout the service), and by her father, a stout, short¬
sighted old gentleman in gold spectacles, who was
perpetually making the wrong responses in a loud
and confident tone.
To be signalled to in a marked manner by a
strange young lady of great personal attractions
might be a coveted distinction to other schoolboys,
but it simply gave Mr. Bultitude cold thrills.
"I suppose that's 'Connie Davenant,'" he
thought, shocked beyond measure as she caught
his eye and coughed demurely for about the fourth
time. "A very forward young person 1 I think
somebody ought to speak seriously to her father."
"Good gracious! she's writing something on
the flyleaf of her prayer-book," he said to himself
presently. "I hope she's not going to send it to
me. I won't take it. She ought to be ashamed of
herself!"
Miss Davenant was indeed busily engaged in
pencilling something on a blank sheet of paper;
and, having finished, she folded it deftly into a
214
VICE \ ERSA.
cocked-hat, wrote a few words on the outside, and
placed it between the leaves of her book.
Then, as the congregation rose for the
Psalms, she gave a meaning glance at the blush¬
ing and scandalised Mr. Bultitude, and by
dexterous management of her prayer-book shot
the little cocked-hat, as if unconsciously, into the
next pew.
By a very unfortunate miscalculation, however,
the note missed its proper object, and, clearing the
partition, fluttered deliberately down on the floor
by Dulcie's feet.
Paul saw this with alarm; he kne"r that at all
hazards he must get that miserable note into his
own possession and destroy it. It might have his
name somewhere about it; it might seriously com¬
promise him.
So he took advantage of the noise the con¬
gregation made in repeating a verse aloud it was
not a high church) to whisper to Dulcie; "Little
Miss Grimstone, excuse me, but there's a—a note
in the pew down by your feet. I believe it's in¬
tended for me."
Dulcie had seen the whole affair and had been
not a little puzzled by it, a clandestine correspond¬
ence being a new thing in her short experience;
but she understood that in this golden-haired girl,
her elder by several years, she saw her rival, for
whom Dick had so basely abandoned her yester¬
day, and she was old enough to feel the slight
and the sweetness of revenge.
So she held her head rather higher than
A IJAV OF REST.
21 5
usual, with her firm little chin projecting wilfully,
and waited for the next verse but one before
retorting, "Little Master Multitude, I know it is."
"Could you—can you manage to reach it?"
whispered Paul entreatingly.
"Yes," said Dulcie, "I could."
"Then will you—when they sit down?"
"No," said Dulcie firmly, "I shan't."
The other girl, she noticed with satisfaction,
had become aware of the situation and was evi¬
dently uneasy. She looked as imploringly as she
dared at remorseless little Dulcie, as if appealing
to her not to get her into trouble; but Dulcie bent
her eyes obstinately on her book and would not
see her.
If the letter had been addressed to any other
boy in the school, she would have done her best
to shield the culprits; but this she could not bring
herself to do here. She found a malicious pleasure
in remaining absolutely neutral, which of course
was very wrong and ill-natured of her.
Mr. Multitude began now to be seriously
alarmed. The fatal paper must be seen by some
one in the Doctor's pew as soon as the congre¬
gation sat down again; and, if it reached the
Doctor's hands, it was impossible to say what
misconstruction he might put upon it or what terrible
consequences might not follow.
lie was innocent, perfectly innocent; but
though the consciousness of innocence is frequently
a great consolation, he felt that unless he could
VICE VERSA.
imbue the Doctor with it as well, it would not
save him from a flogging.
So he made one more desperate attempt to
soften Dulcie's resolution: "Don't be a naughty
little girl," he said, very injudiciously for his
purpose, "I tell you I must have it. You'll get
me into a terrible mess if you're not careful!"
But although Dulcie had been extremely well
brought up, 1 regret to say that the only answer
she chose to make to this appeal was that slight
contortion of the features, which with a pretty
girl is euphemised as a "mouc," and with a plain
one is called "making a face." When he saw it
he knew that all hope of changing her purpose
must be abandoned.
Then they all sat down, and, as Taul had
foreseen, there the white cocked-hat lay on the
dark pew-carpet, hideously distinct, with l:!!ct deux
in every fold of it!
It could only be a question of time now.
The curate was reading the first less >n for the
day, but Mr. Bultitude heard not averse of it. lie
was waiting with bated breath for the blow to fall.
It fell at last. Dulcie, either with the
malevolent idea of hastening the crisis, or which
I prefir to believe for my own part finding that
her ex-lover's visible torments were too much for
her desire of vengeance, was softly moving a
heavy hassock towards the guilt)* note. The
movement caught her mother's eye, and in an
instant the compromising paper was in her
watchful hands.
A DAY OK REST.
She read it with incredulous horror, and
handed it at once to the Doctor.
The golden-haired one saw it all without be¬
traying herself by any outward confusion. She
had probably had some experience in such
matters, and felt tolerably certain of being able,
at the worst, to manage the old gentleman in the
gold spectacles. But she took an earl}- opportunity
of secretly conveying her contempt for the traitress
Dulcie, who continued to meet her angry glances
with the blandest unconsciousness.
Dr. Grimstone examined the cocked-hat
through his double eyeglasses, with a heavy
thunder-cloud gathering on his brows. When he
had mastered it thoroughly, he bent forward and
glared indignantly past his wife and daughter for
at least half a minute into the pew where Mr.
Bultitude was cowering, until he felt that he was
coming all to pieces under the piercing gaze.
The service passed all too quickly after that.
1'aul sat down and stood up almost unconsciously
with the rest; but for the first time in his life he
could have wished the sermon man}- times longer.
The horror of his position quite petrified him.
After all his prudent resolutions to keep out of
mischief and to win the regard and confidence of
his gaoler by his good conduct, like the innocent
convict in a melodrama, this came as nothing less
than a catastrophe. lie walked home in a truly
dismal state of limp terror.
Fortunately for him none of the others seemed
2 I <S
VICE VERSA.
to have noticed his misfortune, and Jolland made
no further advances. .But even the weather tended
to increase his depression, for it was a bleak,
cheerless day, with a bitter and searching wind
sweeping the gritty roads where yesterday's rain
was turned to black ice in the ruts, and the sun
shone with a dull coppery glitter that had no
warmth or geniality about it.
The nearer they came to Crichton House the
more abjectly miserable became Mr. Bultitude's
state of mind. It was as much as he could do
to crawl up the steps to the front door, and his
knees positively clapped together when the Doctor,
who had driven home, met them in the hall and
said in a still grave voice, "Bultitude, when you have
taken off your coat, I want you in the study."
He was as long about taking oft" his coat as"
he dared, but at last he went trembling into the
study, which he found empty. He remembered
the room well, with its ebony-framed etchings on
the walls, bookcases and blue china over the
draped mantelpiece, even to a large case of ela¬
borately carved Indian chessmen in bullock-carts
and palanquins, on horses and elephants, which
stood in the window-recess. It was the very room
to which he had been shown when he first called
about sending his son to the school. He had
little thought then that the time would come when
he would attend there for the purpose of being
flogged; few things would have seemed less pro¬
bable. Yet here he was.
But his train of thought was abruptly broken
A DAY OF REST.
by the entrance of the Doctor. He marched so¬
lemnly in, holding out the offending missive. "Look
here, sirl" he said, shaking it angrily before Paul's
eyes. " Look here! what do you mean by re¬
ceiving a flippant communication like this in a
sacred edifice? What do you mean by it?"
"I—I didn't receive it," said Paul, at his
wit's end.
"Don't prevaricate with me, sir; you know
well enough it was intended for you. Have the
goodness to read it now, and tell me what you
have to say for yourself 1"
Paul read it. It was a silly little school-girl
note, half slang and half sentiment, signed only
with the initials C. D. "Well, sir?" said the
Doctor.
"It's very forward and improper—very," said
Paul; "but it's not my fault—I can't help it. I
gave the girl no encouragement. I never saw her
before in all my life!"
"To my own knowledge, Bultitude, she has
sat in that pew regularly for a year."
"Very probably," said Paul, "but I don't
notice these matters. I'm past that sort of thing,
my dear sir."
"What is her name? Come, sir, you know
that."
"Connie Davenant," said Paul, taken unawares
by the suddenness of the question. "At least,
I—I heard so to-day." He felt the imprudenct
of such an admission as soon as he had made ie.
220
VICE VERSA.
"Very odd that you know her name if you
never noticed her before," said the Doctor.
"Jolland told me," said l'aul.
"Ah, but it's odder still that she knows yours,
for I perceive it is directed to you by name."
"It's easily explained, my dear sir," said
Paul; "easily explained. I've no doubt she's heard
it somewhere. At least, I never told her; it is
not likely. I do assure you I'm as much dis¬
tressed and shocked by this affair as you can be
yourself. I am indeed. I don't know what girls
are coming to nowadays."
"Do you expect me to believe that you are
perfectly innocent?" said the Doctor.
"Yes, I do," said Air. Bultitude. "I can't
prevent fast young ladies from sending me notes.
Why, she might have sent you onel"
"We won't go into hypothetical cases," said
the Doctor, not relishing the war being carried
into his own country ; "she happened to prefer
you. Put, although your virtuous indignation seems
to me a trifle overdone, sir, I don't see my way
clear to punishing you on the facts, especially as
you tell me you never encouraged these these
overtures, and my Dulrie, I am bound to say,
confirms your statement that it was all the other
young lady's doing. Put if I had had any proof
that you had begun or responded to her hem—
advances, nothing could have saved you from a
severe flogging at the very least — so be careful
for the future."
"All!" said Paul rather feebly, quite over-
A DAY OF REST
22 I
whelmed by the narrowness of his escape. Then
with a desperate effort he found courage to add,
"May I —ah — take advantage of this—this re¬
stored cordiality, to to—in fact to make a brief
personal explanation? It — it's what I've been
trying to tell you for a long time, ever since I
first came, only you never will hear me out. It's
highly important. You've no notion how serious
it is!"
"There's something about you this term,
Richard Bultitude," said the Doctor slowly, "that
I confess I don't understand. This obstinacy is
unusual in a boy of your age, and if you really
have a mystery it may be as well to have it out
and have done with it. But I can't be annoyed
with it now. Come to me after supper to-night,
and I shall be willing to hear anything you may
have to say."
Paul was too overcome at this unexpected
favour to speak his thanks. He got away as soon
as he could. His path was smoothed at last!
That afternoon the boys, or all of them who
had disposed of the work set them for the day,
were sitting in the schoolroom, after a somewhat
chilly dinner of cold beef, cold tarts, and cold
water, passing the time with that description of
literature known as "Sunday reading."
And here, at the risk of being guilty of a
digression, I must pause to record my admiration
for this exceedingly happy form of compromise,
which is, I think, peculiar to the British and, to
a certain extent, the American nations.
VICE VERSA.
It has many developments. From the mild
Transatlantic compound of cookery and camp-
meetings, to the semi-novel, redeemed and chas¬
tened by an arrangement which sandwiches a ser¬
mon or a biblical lecture between each chapter
of the story—a great convenience for the race of
skippers.
But the crown and triumph of successful trim¬
ming must surely be looked for in the illustrated
Sabbath magazines, in many of which there is so
dexterous a combination of this world and the
next, that even a public analyst might find it
difficult to resolve them.
Open anyone of the monthly numbers, and
the chances are you will find at one part a neat
little doctrinal essay by a literary bishop; at
another, a paper upon "cockroaches and their
habits" by an eminent savant; somewhere else,
a description of foreign travel, done in a brilliant
and wholly secular vein; and, further on again, an
article on aesthetic furniture—the balance of the
number being doveted to instalments of two thril¬
ling novels by popular authors, whose theology
is seldom their strongest point.
Oddly enough, too, when these very novels
come out later in three-volume form, with the
"mark of the beast" in the shape of a circulating
library ticket upon them, they will be fortunate if
they are not interdicted altogether by some of the
serious families who take in the magazines as being
"so suitable for Sundays."
It was the editor of one of these magazines,
A DAY OF REST.
indeed, who is said, though 1 do not vouch for
the truth of the story, to have implored the author
who was running a novel through his columns, to
shift the date on which he had made his lovers
meet, from Saturday afternoon to "Sunday after
church time," in deference to the susceptibilities of
his subscribers.
Mr. Bultitude, at all events, had no reason to
complain of the system. For in one of the bound
volumes supplied to him he found a most interest¬
ing and delightfully unsectarian novel, which ap¬
pealed to his tastes as a business man, for it was
all about commerce and making fortunes by
blockade-running; and though he was 110 novel
reader as a rule, Jus mind was so relieved and set
at rest by the prospect of seeing the end of his
troubles at last, that he was able to occupy his
mind with the fortunes of the hero.
He naturally detected technical errors here
and there. But that pleased him, and he was be¬
coming so deeply absorbed in the tale that he
felt seriously annoyed when Chawner came softly
up to the desk at which he was sitting, and sat
down close to him, crossing his arms before him,
and leaning forward upon them with his sallow face
towards Paul.
"Dickie," he began, in a cautious, oily tone,
"did I hear the Doctor say before dinner that he
would hear anything you have to tell him after
supper? Did I?"
"I really can't say, sir," said Paul; "if you
2 2-±
VICE VER^A.
were near the keyhole at the time, very likely
you did."
"The door was open," said Chawner, "and I
was in the cloak-room, so I heard, and I want
to know. What is it you're going to tell the
Doctor?"
"Mind your own business, sir," said Paul
sharply.
"It is my own business," said Chawner; "but
I don't want to be told what you're going to tell
him. I know."
"Good heavens!" said Mr. Pultitude, annoyed
to find his secret in possession of this boy of all
others.
"Yes," repeated Chawner, "I know, and I tell
you what—I won't have it!"
"Won't have it! and why?"
"Never mind why. Perhaps I don't choose
that the Doctor shall be told just yet; perhaps I
mean to go up and tell him myself some other day.
I want to have a little more fun out of it before
I've done."
"But—but," said Paul, "you young ghoul, do
you mean to say that all you care for is to see
other people's sufferings?"
Sludge grinned maliciously. "Yes," he said
suavely; "it amuses me."
"And so," said Paul, "you want to hold me
back a little longer—because it's so funny; and
then, when you're quite tired of your sport, you'll
go up and tell the Doctor my—my unhappy
story yourself, eh? No, my friend; I'd rather not
A DAY OF REST.
tell him myself—but I'll be shot if I let you have
a finger in it. I know my own interests better
than that!"
"Don't get in a passion, Dickie," said Chaw-
ner; "it's Sunday. You'll have to let me go up
instead of you—when I've frightened them a little
more."
"Who do you mean by them, sir?" said^Paul,
growing puzzled.
"As if you didn't know! Oh, you're too
clever for me, Dickie, I can see," sniggered
Chawner.
"I teli you I don't know!" said Mr. Bultitude.
"Look here, Chawner—your confounded name is
Chawner, isn't it?—there's a mistake somewhere,
I'm sure of it. Listen to me. I'm not going to
tell the Doctor what you think I am!"
"What do I think you are going to tell
him ?"
"I haven't the slightest idea; but, whatever it
is, you're wrong."
"Ah, you're too clever, Dickie; you won't
betray yourself; but other people want to pay
Coker and Tipping out as well as you, and I say
you must wait."
"I shan't say anything, to affect anyone but
myself," said Paul; "if you know all about it, you
must know that—it won't interfere with your amuse¬
ment that I can see."
"Yes, it will," said Chawner irritably, "it
will—you mayn't mean to tell of anyone but
yourself; but directly Grimstone asks you ques-
Q
226
VICE VERSA.
tions, it all comes out. I know all about it.
And, anyway, I forbid you to go up till I give
you leave."
"And who the dooce are you?" said Mr.
Bultitude, nettled at this assumption of author¬
ity. "How are you going to prevent me, may
I ask?"
"S'shl here's the Doctor," whispered Chawner
hurriedly. "I'll tell you after tea. What am I
doing out of my place, sir? Oh, I was only ask¬
ing Bultitude what was the collect for to-day, sir.
Fourth Sunday after the Epiphany? thank you,
Bultitude."
And he glided back to his seat, leaving Paul
in a state of vague uneasiness. Why did this
fellow, with the infernal sly face and glib tongue,
want to prevent him from righting himself with
the world, and how could he possibly prevent
him? It was absurd; he would take no notice of
the young scoundrel—he would defy him.
But he could not banish the uneasy feeling;
the cup had slipped so many times before at the
critical moment that he could not be sure whose
hand would be the next to jog his elbow. And
so he went down to tea with renewed misgivings.
y
not
AGAINST TIME.
227
CHAPTER XII.
AGAINST TIME.
"There is a kind of Followers, likewise, which are dangerous,
being indeed Espials; which enquire the Secrets of the House
and beare Tales of them."—
"Then give me leave that I may turn the key,
That no man enter till my tale be done."
VERY possibly Chawner's interference in l\Ir. Pal-
titude's private affairs has surprised others besides
the victim of it; but the fact is that there was a
most unfortunate misunderstanding between them
from the very first, which prevented the one from
seeing, the other from explaining, the real state
of the case.
Chawner, of course, no more guessed Paul's
true name and nature than anyone else who had
come in contact with him in his impenetrable
disguise, and his motive for attempting to prevent
an interview with the Doctor can only, I fear, be
explained by another slight digression.
The Doctor, from a deep sense of his re¬
sponsibility for the morals of those under his care,
was perhaps a trifle over-anxious to clear his
moral garden of every noxious weed, and too
constant in his vigilant efforts to detect the grow¬
ing shoot of evil from the moment it showed above
the surface.
VICE VERSA.
As lie could not be everywhere, however, it
is evident that many offences, trivial or otherwise,
must have remained unsuspected and unpunished,
but for a theory which he had originated and took
great pains to propagate amongst his pupils.
The theory was that every right-minded boy
ought to feel himself in such a fiduciary position
towards his master, that it became a positive duty
to acquaint him with any delinquencies he might
happen to observe among his fellows; and if, at
the same time, he was oppressed by a secret
burden on his own conscience, it was understood
that he might hope that the joint revelation
would go far to mitigate his own punishment.
It is doubtful whether this system, though I
believe it is found successful in Jesuit colleges,
can be usefully applied to English boys; whether
it may not produce a habit of mutual distrust and
suspicion, and a tone the reverse of healthy.
For myself, I am inclined to think that a
schoolmaster will find it better in the long run
for both the character and morals of his school,
if he is not too anxious to play the detective, and
refrains from encouraging the more weak-minded
or cowardly boys to save themselves by turning
"schoolmaster's evidence."
Dr. Grimstone thought otherwise; but it must
be allowed that the system, as in vogue at Crich-
ton Mouse, did not work well.
There were boys, of course, who took a stur¬
dier view of their own rights and duties, and
despised the tale-bearers as they deserved; there
AGAINST TIME.
229
were others, also, too timid and too dependent
on the good opinion of others to risk the loss
of it by becoming informers; but there were al¬
ways one or two whose consciences were unequal
to the burden of their neighbour s sin, and could
only be relieved by frank and full confession.
Unhappily they had, as a general rule, con¬
tributed largely to the sum of guilt themselves,
and did not resort to disclosure until detection
seemed reasonably imminent.
Chawner was the leader of this conscientious
band; he revelled in the system. It gave him the
means at once of gratifying the almost universal
love of power and of indulging a catlike passion
for playing with the feelings of others, which, it
is to be hoped, is more uncommon.
He knew he was not popular, but he could
procure most of the incidents of popularity; he
could have his little court of cringing toadies; he
could levy his tribute of conciliatory presents, and
vent many private spites and hatreds into the
bargain —and he generally did.
Having himself a tendency to acts of sly dis¬
obedience, he found it a congenial pastime to set
the fashion from time of time in some one of the
peccadilloes to which boyhood is prone, and to
which the Doctor's somewhat restrictive code
added a large number, and as soon as he saw a
sufficient number of his companions satisfactorily
implicated, his opportunity came.
He would take the chief culprits aside, and
profess, in strict confidence, certain qualms of
VICE VERSA.
conscience which he feared could only be appeased
by unburdening his guilt-laden soul.
To this none would have had any right to
object—had it not necessarily, or at least from
Chawner's point of view, involved a full, true, and
particular account of the misdoings of each and
every one; and consequently, for some time after
these professions of misgivings, Chawner would be
surrounded by a little crowd of anxiously ob¬
sequious friends, all trying hard to overcome his
scruples or persuade him, at least, to omit their
names from his revelations.
Sometimes he would affect to be convinced
by their arguments and send them away reassured;
at others his scruples would return in an aggra¬
vated form; and so he would keep them on ten¬
terhooks of suspense for days and weeks, until
he was tired of the amusement—for this practising
on the fears of weaker natures is a horribly keen
delight to some—or until some desperate little
dog, unable to bear his torture any longer, would
threaten to give himself up and make an end
of it.
Then Chawner, to do him justice, always re¬
lieved him from so disagreeable a necessity, and
would go softly into the Doctor's study, and, in
a subdued and repentant tone, pour out his general
confession for the public good.
Probably the Doctor did not altogether respect
the instruments he saw fit to use in this way;
some would have declined to hear the informer
out, flogged him well, and forgotten it; but Dr.
AGAINST TIME.
23'
Grimstone—though he was hardly likely to be
impressed by these exhibitions of noble candour,
and did not fail to see that the prospect of ob¬
taining better terms for the penitent himself had
something to do with them—yet encouraged the
system as a matter of policy, went thoroughly
into the whole affair, and made it the cause of
an explosion which he considered would clear the
moral atmosphere for some time to come.
I hope that, after this explanation, Chawner's
opposition to Mr. Bultitude's plans will be better
understood.
After tea, he made Paul a little sign to follow
him, and the two went out together into the little
glass-house beyond the schoolroom; it was dark,
but there was light enough from the room inside
for them to see each other's face.
"Now, sir," began Paul, with dignity, when
he had closed the glass door behind him, "perhaps
you'll be good enough to tell me how you mean
to prevent me from seeing Ur. Grimstone, and
telling him—telling him what f have to tell him?"
"I'll tell you, Dickie," said Chawner, with an
evil smirk. "You shall know soon enough."
"Don't stand grinning at me like that, sir,"
said the angry Mr. Bultitude; "say it out at once;
it will make no difference to me, I give you
warning!"
"Oh, yes it will, though. I think it will.
Wait. I heard all you said to Grimstone in the
study to-day about that girl—Connie Davenant,
you know."
232
VICE VERSA.
"I don't care; I am innocent. I have nothing
to reproach myself with."
"What a liar you are!" said Chawner, more
in admiration than rebuke. "You told him you
never gave her any encouragement, didn't you?
And he said if he ever found you had, nothing
could save you from a licking, didn't he?"
"He did," said Paul, "he was quite right
from his point of view—what then?"
"Why this," said Chawner: "Do you remember
giving Jolland, the last Sunday of last term, a note
for that very girl?"
"I never did!" said poor Mr. Multitude, "I
never saw the wretched girl before."
"Ah!" said Chawner, "but I've got the note
in my pocket! Jolland was seed)- and asked me
to take it for you, and I read it, and it was so
nicely written that I thought I should like to keep
it myself, and so I did—and here it is!"
And he drew out with great caution a piece
of crumpled paper and showed it to the horrified
old gentleman; "Don't snatch . . . it's rude; there
it is, you see: 'My dear Connie' . . . 'yours ever,
Dick Multitude.' No, you don't come any nearer . . .
there, now it's safe . . . Now what do you mean
to do?"
"I—I don't know," said Paul, feeling absolutely
checkmated. "Give me time."
"I tell you what I mean to do; 1 shall keep
my eye on you, and directly I see you making
ready to go to Grimstone, I shall get up first
AGAINST TIME.
233
and take him this . . . then you'll be done for.
You'd better give in, really, Dickie!"
The note was too evidently genuine; Dick
must have written it (as a matter of fact he had;
in a moment of pique, 110 doubt, at some caprice
of his real enslaver Dulcie's—but his fickleness
brought fatal results on his poor father's undeserving
head 1—if this diabolical Chawner carried out his
threats he would indeed be "done for;" he did not
yet fully understand the other's motive, but he
thought that he feared lest Paul, in declaring his
own sorrows, might also accuse Tipping and
Coker of acts of cruelty and oppression, which
Chawner proposed to denounce himself at some
more convenient opportunity; he hesitated painfully.
"Well?" said Chawner, "make up your mind;
are you going to tell him, or not?"
"I must!" said Paul hoarsely. "I promise
you I shall not bring any other names in ... I
don't want to ... I only want to save myself—
and I can't stand it any longer. Why should you
stand between me and my rights in this currish
way ? I didn't know there were boys like you in
the world, sir; you're a young monster 1"
"I don't mean you to tell the Doctor anything
at all," said Chawner. "I shall do what I said."
"Then do your worst!" cried Paul, stung to
defiance.
"Very well, then," returned Chawner meekly,
"I will—and we'll see who wins!"
And they went back to the schoolroom again,
where Mr. Bultitude, boiling with rage and seriously
234
VICE VERSA.
alarmed as well, tried to sit down and appear as
if nothing had happened.
Chawner sat down too, in a place from which
he could see all Paul's movements, and they both
watched one another anxiously from the corners
of their eyes till the Doctor came in.
"It's a foggy evening," he said as he entered:
"the younger boys had better stay in. Chawner,
you and the rest of the first form can go to
church; get ready at once."
Paul's heart leaped with triumph; with his
enemy out of the way, he could carry out his
purpose unhindered. The same thing apparently
occurred to Chawner, for he said mildly, "Please,
sir, may Richard Bultitude come too?"
"Can't Bultitude ask leave for himself?" said
the Doctor.
"I, sir!" said the horrified Paul, "it's a
mistake—I don't want to go. I—I don't feel very
well this evening!"
"Then you see, Chawner, you misunderstood
him. By the way, Bultitude, there was something
you were to tell me, I think?"
Chawner's small glittering eyes were fixed on
Paul menacingly as he managed to stammer that
he did want to say something in private.
"Very well, I am going out to see a friend
for an hour or so—when I come back 1 will hear
you," and he left the room abruptly.
Chawner would very probably have petitioned
to stay in that evening as well, had he had time
and presence of mind to do so; as it was, he
AGAINST TIME.
235
was obliged to go away and get ready for church,
but when his preparations were made he came
back to Paul, and leaning over him said with an
unpleasant scowl, "If I get back in time, Bultitude,
we'll see whether you baulk me quite so easily.
If I come back and find you've done it—I shall
take in that letter 1"
"You may do what you please then," said
Paul, in a high state of irritation, "I shall be well
out of your reach by that time. Now have the
goodness to take yourself off."
As he went, Mr. Pultitude thought, "I never
in all my life saw such a fellow as that, never 1
It would give me real pleasure to hire someone
to kick him."
The evening passed quietly; the boys left at
home sat in their places, reading or pretending
to read. Mr. Blinkhorn, left in charge of them,
was at his table in the corner noting up his
diary. Paul was free for a time to think over
his position.
At first he was calm and triumphant; his
dearest hopes, his long-wished-for opportunity of
a fair and unprejudiced hearing, were at last to
be fulfilled—Chawner was well out of the way for
the best part of two hours—the Doctor was very
unlikely to be detained nearly so long over one
call; his one anxiety was lest he might not be
able, after all, to explain himself in a thoroughly
effective manner — he planned out a little scheme
for doing this.
He must begin gradually, of course, so as
23b
VICE VERSA.
not to alarm the schoolmaster or raise doubts of
his sincerity, or, worse still, his sanity. Perhaps
a slight glance at instances of extraordinary inter¬
ventions of the supernatural from the earliest times,
tending to show the extreme probability of their
survival on rare occasions even to the present day,
might be a prudent and cautious introduction to
the subject--only he could not think of any, and,
after all, it might weary the Doctor.
He would start somewhat in this manner:
"You cannot, my dear sir, have failed to observe
since our meeting this year, a certain difference
in my manner and bearing" — one's projected
speeches are somehow generally couched in finer
language than, when it comes to the point, the
tongue can be prevailed upon to utter. I\Ir. Bul-
titude learned this opening sentence by heart, he
thought it taking and neat, the sort of thing to
fix his hearer's attention from the first.
After that he found it difficult to get any
further; he knew himself that all he was about to
describe was plain, unvarnished fact — but how
would it strike on a stranger's ear? he found him¬
self seeking ways in which to tone down the glar¬
ing improbability of the thing as much as possible,
but in vain; "I don't know how I shall ever get
it all out," he told himself at last; "if I think
about it much longer I shall begin to disbelieve
in it myself."
Here Biddlecomb came up in a confidential
manner and sat down by Paul; "Dick," he began,
in rather a trembling voice, "did I hear the Doctor
AGAINST TIME.
237
say something about your having something to
tell him?"
"Oh Lord, here's another of them now!"
thought Paul. "You are right, young sir," he
said: "have you any objection? mention it, you
know, if you have, pray mention it. It's a matter
of life and death to me, but if you at all disap¬
prove, of course that ought to be final!"
"No, but," protested Biddlecomb, "I, I daresay
I've not treated you very well lately, I "
"You were kind enough to suggest several
very uncommonly uupleasant ways of annoying
me, sir," said Paul resentfully, "if you mean that.
You've kicked me more than once, and your hand¬
kerchief, unless I am very much mistaken, had the
biggest and the hardest knot in it yesterday. If
that gives you the right to interfere and dictate
to me now, like your amiable friend, Master
Chawner, I suppose you have it."
"Now you're angry," said Biddlecomb humbly;
"I don't wonder at it. I've behaved like a cad,
I know, but, and this is what I wanted to say,
I was sorry for you all the time."
"That's very comforting," said Paul drily;
"thank you. I'm vastly obliged to you."
"I was, though," said Biddlecomb; "I, I was
led away by the other fellows—I always liked you,
you know, Bultitude."
"You've a very odd way of showing your
affection," remarked Mr. Bultitude; "but go on,
let me hear all you have to say."
"It isn't much," said Biddlecomb, quite broken
23S
VICE VERSA.
down; "only don't sneak of me this time, Dick,
let me oft", there's a good fellow. I'll stick up for
you after this, I will really. You used not to
be a fellow for sneaking once. It's caddish to
sneak 1"
"Don't be alarmed, my good friend," said
Paul; "I won't poach on that excellent young man
Chawner's preserves. What I am going to tell
the Doctor has nothing to do with you."
"On your honour?" said Biddlecomb eagerly.
"Yes," said Paul testily, "on my honour. Now,
perhaps, you'll let me alone. No, I won't shake
hands, sir. I've had to accept your kicks, but I
don't want your friendship."
Biddlecomb went off, looking slightly ashamed
of himself but visibly relieved from a haunting
fear. "Thank goodness!" thought Paul, "he wasn't
as obstinate as the other fellow. What a set
they are! I knew it, there's another boy coming
up now I"
And indeed one boy after another came up
in the same way as Piddlecomb had done, some
cringing more than others, but all vowing that
the\r had never intended to do any harm, and
entreating him to change his mind about com¬
plaining of his ill-treatment. They brought little
offerings to propitiate him and prove the depth
of their unaltered regard—pencil-cases and pocket-
knives, and so forth, until they drove Paul nearly
to desperation. However, he succeeded in dispel¬
ling their fears after some hot arguments, and had
AGAINST TIME.
239
just sent away the last suppliant, when he saw
Jolland too rise and come towards him.
Jolland leaned across Paul's desk with folded
arms and looked him full in the face with his
shallow light green eyes. "I don't know what
you've said to all those chaps," he began: "they've
come back looking precious glum, but they won't
tell me what you said" (Mr. llultitude had in satis¬
fying their alarm taken care to let them know his
private opinion of them, which was not flattering),
"but I've got something to say to you, and it's
this. I never thought you would quite come
down to this sort of thing!"
"What sort of thing?" said Paul, who was
beginning to h;Jve enough of it.
"Why, going up and letting on against all of
us—it's mean, you know. If you have got bashed
about pretty well since you came back, it's been
all your own fault, and you know it. Last term
you got on well enough—this time you began to
be queer and nasty the very first day you came.
I thought it was one of your larks at first, but I
don't know what it is now, and I don't care. I
stood up for you as long as I could, till you acted
like a funk yesterday. Then I took my share in
lamming you and I'd do it again. But if you are
cad enough to pay us all out in this way, I'll have
no more to do with you —mind that. That's all
I came to say."
This was an unpalatable way of putting
things, but Paul could not help seeing that there
was some truth in it. Jolland had been kind to
24-0
VICE VERSA.
him, too, in a careless sort of way, and at some
cost to himself; so it was with more mildness than
temper that he answered him.
"You're on the wrong tack, my boy, the
wrong tack. I've no wish to tell tales of anyone,
as I've been trying to explain to your friends.
There's something the matter with me which you
wouldn't understand if I told you."
"Oh, I didn't know," said Jolland mollified;
"if it's only physic you want."
"Whatever it is," said Paul, not caring to
undeceive him, "it won't affect you or anyone
here, but myself. You're not a bad young fellow,
I believe. I don't want to get you into trouble,
sir; you don't want much assistance, I'm afraid,
in that department. So be off, like a good fellow,
and leave me in peace."
All these interviews had taken time. He was
alarmed on looking at the clock to see that it was
nearly eight; the Doctor was a long time over
that call—for the first time he began to feel
uneasy—he made hurried mental calculations as to
the probability of the Doctor or Chawner being
the first to return.
The walk to church took about twenty
minutes; say the service took an hour, allowing
for the return, he might expect Chawner by about
half-past eight; it was striking the hour ow -half
an hour only in which he could hope lor any
favourable result from the interview!
For he saw this plainly, that if Chawner were
once permitted to get the Doctor's ear first and
AGAINST TIME.
241
show him that infamous love-note, no explanation
of his (even if he had nerve to make it then,
which he doubted) could possibly seem anything
more than a desperate and far-fetched excuse; if
he could anticipate Chawner, on the other hand,
and once convince die Doctor of the truth of his
story, the informer's malice would fall flat.
And still the long hand went rapidly on, as
Mr. Bultitude sat staring stupidly at it with a faint
sick feeling—it had passed the quarter now—why
did the Doctor delay in this unwarrantable
manner? What a farce social civilities were—if
he had allowed himself to be prevailed on to stay
to supper 1 Twenty minutes past; Chawner and
the others might return at any moment —a ring
at the bell; they were there! all was over now—no,
he was saved, that was Dr. Grimstone's voice in
the hall—what an unconscionable time he was
taking off his great coat and gloves!
But all comes to the man who waits. In
another moment the Doctor looked in, singled out
Mr. Bultitude with a sharp glance, and a, "Now
Bultitude, I will hear you!" and led the way to
his study.
Paul staggered rather than walked after him:
as usual at the critical moment his carefully
prepared opening had deserted him—his head felt
heavy and crowded—he wanted to run away, but
forced himself to overcome such a suicidal
proceeding and follow to the study.
There was a lighted reading-lamp with a
green glass shade upon the table. The Doctor
R
14 2
VICE VERSA.
sat down by it in an armchair by the fire,
crossed his legs, and joined the tops of his
fingers together. "Mow, Bultitude," he said
again
"Might I—might 1 sit down?" said poor I\Ir.
Bultitude in a thick voice; it was all that occurred
to him to say.
"Sit by all means," said the Doctor blandly.
So Paul drew a chair opposite the Doctor
and sat down, fie tried desperately to clear his
head and throat and begin; but the only distinct
thought in his mind just then was that the green
lamp-shade lent a particularly ghastly hue to the
Doctor's face.
"Take your time, Bultitude," said the latter,
after a long minute, in v. hich a little skeleton clock
on the mantelpiece ticked loudly—"there's no
hurry, my boy."
But this only reminded Paul that there was
every need for hurry—Chawner might come in,
and follow him here, unless he made haste.
Still, he could only say, You see me in a
very agitated state, Dr. Grimstone—a very agitattd
state, sir."
The Doctor gave a short, dry cough. "Well,
Bultitude," he said.
"The fact is, sir, I'm in a most unfortunate
position, and—and the worst of it is, I don't know
how to begin." Here he made another dead stop,
while the Doctor raised his heavy eyebrows, and
looked at the clock.
"Do you see any prospect of your finding
AGAINST TIME.
243
yourself able to begin soon?" he inquired at last,
with rather suspicious suavity. "Perhaps if you
came to me later on "
"Not for the world!" said Paul, in a highly
nervous condition. "I shall begin very soon,
Doctor, I shall begin directly. Mine is such a
very singular case; it's difficult, as you see, to, to
open it!"
"Mave you anything on your mind?" asked
the Doctor suddenly.
Paul could hear steps and voices in the ad¬
joining cloakroom—The churchgoers had returned.
"Yes—no!" he answered, losing his head com¬
pletely now.
"That's a somewhat extraordinary, not to say
an ambiguous, reply," said the Doctor; "what am
I to understand by "
There was a tap at the door. Paul started
to his feet in a panic. "Don't let him in!" he
shrieked, finding his voice at last. "Hear me
first—you shall hear me first! Say that other
rascal is not to come in. He wants to ruin me!"
"I was going to say I was engaged," said the
Doctor; "but there's something under this I must
understand. Come in, whoever you are."
And the door opened softly, and Chawner
stepped meekly in; he was rather pale and
breathed hard, but was otherwise quite composed.
"Now, then, Chawner," said the Doctor
impatiently, "what is it? Have you something on
your mind, too?"
244
VICE VERSA.
"Please, sir," said Chawner, "has Bultitude
told you anything yet?"
"No, why? Hold your tongue, Bultitude. I
shall hear Chawner now—not you!"
"Because, sir," explained Chawner, "he knew
I had made up my mind to tell you something I
thought you ought to know about him, and so he
threatened to come first and tell some falsehood
(I'm sure I don't know what) about me, sir. I
think I ought to be here too."
"It's a liel" shouted Paul. "What a villain
that boy is! Don't believe a word he says, Dr.
Grimstone; it t all false—all!"
"This is very suspicious," said the Doctor;
"if your conscience were good, Bultitude, you
could have no object in preventing me from
hearing Chawner. Chawner, in spite of some
obvious defects in his character," he went on,
with a gulp (he never could quite overcome a
repulsion to the boy), "is, on the whole, a right-
minded and, ah, conscientious boy. I hear Chawner
first."
"Then, sir, if you please," said Chawner,
with an odious side smirk of triumph at Paul,
who quite crushed by the horror of the situation,
had collapsed feebly on his chair again, "I thought
it was my duty to let you see this. I found it
to-day in Bultitude's prayerbook, sir." And he
handed Dick's unlucky scrawl to the Doctor,
who took it to the lamp and read it hurriedly
through.
After that there was a terrible moment of
AGAINST TIME.
245
dead silence; then the Doctor looked up and said
shortly, "You did well to tell me of this, Chawner;
you may go now."
When they were alone once more he turned
upon the speechless Paul with furious scorn and
indignation. "Contemptible liar and hypocrite,"
he thundered, pacing restlessly up and down the
room in his excitement, till Paul felt very like
Daniel, without his sense of security, "you are
unmasked—unmasked, sirl You led me to believe
that you were as much shocked and pained at
this girl's venturing to write to you as I could be
myself. You called it, quite correctly, 'forward
and improper,' you pretended you had never given
her the least encouragement—had not heard her
name even—till to-day. And here is a note,
written, as I should imagine, some time since, in
which you address her as 'Connie Davenant,' and
have the impudence to admire the hat she wore
the Sunday before! I shudder, sir, to think of
such duplicity, such precocious and shameless
depravity. It astounds me. It deprives me of all
power to think!"
Paul made some faint and inarticulate remark
about being a family man—always most particular,
and so forth —luckily it passed unheard.
"What shall I do with you?" continued the
Doctor; "how shall I punish such monstrous mis¬
conduct?"
"Don't ask me, sir," said Paul, desperately—
"only, for heaven's sake, get it over as soon as
possible."
VICE VERSA.
"If I linger," retorted the Doctor, "it is
because I have grave doubts whether your offence
can be expiated by a mere flogging—whether
that is not altogether too light a retribution."
"He can't want to torture me," thought Paul.
"Yes," said the Doctor again, "the doubt has
prevailed. On a mind so hardened the cane would
leave no lasting impression. I cannot allow your
innocent companions to run the risk of contami¬
nation from your society. I must not permit this
serpent to glide uncrushed, this cockatrice to practise
his epistolary wiles, within my peaceful fold. My
mind is made up—at whatever cost to myself—
however it may distress and grieve your good
father, who is so pathetically anxious for you to
do him credit, sir. I must do my duty to the
parents of the boys entrusted to my care. I
shall not flog you, sir, for I feel it would be
useless. I shall expel you."
"What!" Paul leaped up incredulous. "Expel
me? Do I hear you aright, Dr. Grimstone? Say
it again—you will expel me?"
"I have said it," the Doctor said sternly; "no
expostulations can move me now" as if Air.
Bultitude was likely to expostulate!) "Mrs. Grim-
stone will see that your boxes are packed the
first thing tomorrow morning, and I shall take
you myself to the station and consign you to the
home you have covered with blushes and shame,
by the 9.15 train, and I shall write a letter to¬
night explaining the causes for your dismissal."
Air. Bultitude covered his face with his hands,
AGAINST TIME.
247
to hide, not his shame and distress, but his indecent
rapture. It seemed almost too good to be true!
He saw himself about to be provided with every
means of reaching home in comfort and safety.
He need dread no pursuit now. There was no
chance, either, of his being forced to return to
the prison-house—the Doctor's letter would convince
even Dick of the impossibility of that. And, best
of all, this magnificent stroke of good luck had
been obtained without the ignominy and pain of
a flogging, without even the unpleasant necessity
of telling his strange secret.
But (having gained some experience during
his short stay at the school) he had the duplicity
to pretend to sob bitterly.
"But one night more, sir," continued the
Doctor, "shall you pass beneath this roof, and that
apart from your fellows. You will occupy the
spare bedroom until the morning, when you quit
the school in disgrace—for ever."
I said in another chapter that this Sunday
would find Paul, at its close, after a trying course
of emotions, in a state of delicious ecstasy of
pure relief and happiness—and really that scarcely
seems too strong an expression for his feelings.
When he found himself locked securely into
a comfortable, warm bedroom, with curtains and
a carpet in it, safe from the persecutions of all
those terrible boys, and when he remembered
that this was actually the last night of his stay
here—that he would certainly see his own home
before noon next day, the reaction was so powerful
vice versa.
that he could not refrain from skipping and leaping
about the room in a kind of hysterical gaiety.
And as he laid his head down on a yielding
lavender-scented pillow, his thoughts went back
without a pang to the varied events of the day;
they had been painful, very painful, but it was
well worth while to have gone through them to
appreciate fully the delightful intensity of the
contrast. 1 le freely forgave all his tormentors,
even Chawner, for had not Chawner procured
his release? and he closed his eyes at last with a
smile of Sybaritic satisfaction and gentle longing
for the Monday's dawn to break.
And yet some, after his experiences, wopld
have had their misgivings.
CHAPTER XIII
a respite.
"Discipulorum inter jubeo plorare cathedrae,"
Blithe and gay was Mr. Bultitude when he
opened his eyes on Monday morning and realised
his incredible good fortune; in a few hours he
would be travelling safely and comfortably home,
with ever}' facility for regaining his rights. He
chuckled though his sense of humour was not
large—he chuckled, as he lay snugly in bed, to
think of Dick's discomfiture on seeing him return
so unexpectedly; he began to put it down, quite
unwarrantably, to his own cleverness, as having
A RESPITE.
-49
conceived and executed such a stroke of genius
as procuring his own expulsion.
He remained in bed until long after the getting-
up bell had rung, feeling that his position ensured
him perfect impunity in this, and when he rose
at length it was in high spirits, and he dressed
himself with a growing toleration for things in
general, very unlike his ordinary frame of mind.
When he had finished his toilet, the Doctor entered
the room.
"Bultitude," he said gravel)', "before sending
you from us, I should like to hear from your own
lips that you are not altogether without contrition
for your conduct."
Mr. Bultitude considered that such an ac¬
knowledgment could not possibly do any harm, so
he said-—as, indeed, he might with perfect
truth—that " he very much regretted what had
passed."
"I am glad to hear that," said the Doctor,
more briskly, "very glad; it relieves me from a
very painful responsibility. It may not impos¬
sibly induce me to take a more lenient view of
your case."
"Oh!" gasped Mr. Bultitude, feeling very un¬
comfortable all at once.
"Yes; it is a serious step to ruin a boy's
career at its outset by unnecessary harshness. No¬
thing, of course, can palliate the extreme baseness
of your behaviour. Still, from certain faint indi¬
cations in your character of nobler things, I do
not despair even yet (after you have received a
250
VICE VERSA.
public lesson at my hands, which you will never
forget 1 of rearing you to become in time an orna¬
ment to the society in which it will be your lot
to move. I will not give up in despair—I will per¬
severe a little longer."
"Thank you!" Paul faltered, with a sudden
sinking sensation.
"Mrs. Grimstone, too," said the Doctor, "has
been interceding for you; she has represented to
me that a public expression of my view of your
conduct, together with a sharp, severe dose of
physical pain, would be more likely to effect a
radical improvement in your character, and to
soften your perverted heart, than if I sent you
away in hopeless disgrace, without giving you an
opportunity of showing a desire to amend."
"It's—very kind of Mrs. Grimstone," said Paul
faintly.
"Then I hope you will show your appreciation
of her kindness. Yes, I will not expel you. 1 will give
you one more chance to retrieve your lost repu¬
tation. But, for your own sake, and as a public
warning, 1 shall take notice of your offence in public.
I shall visit it upon you by a sound flogging be¬
fore the whole school at eleven o'clock. You need
not come down till then—your breakfast will be
sent up to you."
Paul made a frantic attempt to dissuade him
from his terrible determination. "Dr. Grimstone,"
he said, "I—I should much prefer being expelled,
if it is all the same to you."
"It is not all the same to me," said the
A RESPITE.
251
Doctor. "This is mere pride and obstinacy, Bul-
titude; I should do wrong to take any notice
of it."
"I—I tell you I have great objection to—to
being flogged," said Paul eagerly; "it wouldn't
improve me at all; it would harden me, sir—
—harden me. I—I cannot allow you to flog me,
Dr. Grimstone. I have strong prejudices against
the system of corporal punishment. I object to it
on principle. Expulsion would make me quite a
different being, I assure you; it would reform me—
save me—it would indeed."
"So, to escape a little personal inconvenience,
you would be content to bring sorrow upon your
worthy father's grey head, would you, sir?" said
the Doctor; "I shall not oblige you in this. Nor,
I may add, will your cowardice induce me to spare
you in your coming chastisement. I leave you, sir
—we shall meet again at eleven 1"
And he stalked out of the room. Perhaps,
though he did not admit this even to himself,
there were more considerations for commuting the
sentence of expulsion than those he had mentioned.
Boys are not often expelled from private schools,
except for especially heinous offences, and in this
case there was no real reason why the Doctor
should be Quixotic enough to throw up a portion
of his income—particularly if he could produce as
great a moral effect by other means.
But his clemency was too much for Mr
Bultitude; he threw himself on the bed and raved
at the hideous fate in store for him; ten short
VICE VERSA.
minutes ago, and he had been so happy—so
certain of release—and now, not only was he as
far from all hope of escape as ever, but he had
the certainty before him of a sound flogging in
less than two hours!
Just after something has befallen us which,
for good or ill, will make a great change in our
lives, what a totally new aspect the common every¬
day things about us are apt to wear—the book
we were reading, the letter we had begun, the
picture we knew—what a new and tender attrac¬
tion they may have for us, or what a grim and
terrible irony 1
Something of this Paul felt dimly, as he
finished dressing, in a dazed, unconscious manner.
The comfortable bedroom, with its delicately-toned
wall-paper and flowery cretonnes, had become al¬
together hateful in his eyes now. Instead of
feeling grateful gas he surely ought to have been)
for the one night of perfect security and comfort
he had passed there, he only loathed it for the
delusive peace it had brought him.
There was a gentle tap at the door, and
Dulcie came in, bearing a tray with his breakfast,
and looking as like a little Royalist bearing food
to a fugitive Cavalier; though Paul did not quite
carry out his share of the simile.
"There!" she said, almost cheerfully; "I got
mamma to let me take up your breakfast; and
there's an egg for you, and muffins."
Mr. Rultitude sat on a chair and groaned.
"You might say 'thank you'," said Dulcie,
A RESPITE.
253
pouting. "That other girl wouldn't have brought
you up much breakfast if she'd been in my place.
I was going to tell you that I'd forgiven you,
because very likely you never meant her to write
to you" (Dulcie had not been told the sequel to
the Davenant episode, which was quite as well
for Paul). "But you don't seem to care whether
I do or not."
"I feel so miserable!" sighed Paul.
"Then you must drink some coffee," pre¬
scribed Dulcie decidedly; "and you must eat some
breakfast. I brought an egg on purpose; it's so
strengthening, you know."
"Don't!" cried Paul, with a short howl of
distress at this suggestion. "Don't talk about
the—the flogging, I can't bear it."
"But it's not papa's new cane, you know,
Dick," said Dulcie consolingly. "I've hidden that;
it's only the old one, and you always said that
didn't hurt so very much, after a little while. It
isn't as if it was the horsewhip, either. Papa lost
that out riding in the holidays."
"Oh, the horsewhip's worse, is it?" said Paul,
with a sickly smile.
"Tom says so," said Dulcie. "After all, Dick,
it will be all over in five minutes, or, perhaps, a
little longer, and I do think you oughtn't to mind
that so much, now, after mamma and I have
begged you off from being expelled. We might
never have seen one another again, Dickl"
"You begged me off!" cried Paul.
"Yes," said Dulcie; "papa wouldn't change
- 54
VICE \ ERS.V.
his mind for ever so long—till I coaxed him. I
couldn't bear to let you go."
"You've done a very cruel thing," said Paul.
"For such a little girl as you are, you've done
an immense amount of mischief. But for you,
that letter would not have been found out. You
need not have spoilt my only chance of getting
out of this horrible place!"
Dulcie set down the tray, and, putting her
hands behind her, leaned against a corner of a
wardrobe.
'"And is that all you say to me!" she said,
with a little tremble in her voice.
"That is all," said Paul. "I've no doubt you
meant well, but you shouldn't have interfered.
All this has come upon me through that. Take
away the breakfast. It makes me ill even to
look at it."
Dulcie shook out her long brown hair, and
clenched her pretty white fist in an undeniable
passion, for she had something of her father's hot
temper when roused. "Very well, then," she
said, moving with great dignity towards the door.
"I'm very sorry I ever did interfere. I wish I'd
let you be sent home to your papa, and see what
he'd do to you. But I'll never, never interfere
one bit with you again. I won't say one single
word to you any more ... I'll never even look
at you if you want me to ever so much ... I
shall tell Tipping he can hit you as much as ever
he likes, and I shall show Tom where I put the
A RESPITE.
new cane—and I only hope it will hurt!" And
with this parting shot she was gone.
Mr. Bultitude wandered disconsolately about
the upper part of the house after this, not daring
to go down, and not able to remain in any one
place. The maids who came up to make the
beds looked at him with pitiful interest, but he
was too proud to implore help from them. To
hide would only make matters worse, for, as he
had not a penny in his pocket, and no probability
of being able to borrow one, he must remain in
the house till hunger forced him from his hiding-
place—supposing they did not hunt him out long
before that time.
The shouts of the boys in the playground
during their half-hour's play had long since died
away; he heard the clock in the hall strike eleven
—time for him to seek his awful rendezvous. The
Doctor had not forgotten him, he found, for pre¬
sently the butler came up and ceremoniously an¬
nounced that the Doctor "would see him now, if
he pleased."
He stumbled downstairs in a half-unconscious
condition, the butler threw open the two doors
which led to the schoolroom, and Paul tottered
in, more dead than alive with shame and fear.
The whole school were at their places, with
no books before them, and arranged as if to hear
a lecture. Mr. Blinkhorn alone was absent, for,
not liking these exhibitions, he had taken an op¬
portunity of slipping out into the playground,
round which he was now solemnly trotting at the
VICE VERSA.
"double" with elbows squared and head up; an
exercise which he said was an excellent thing for
the back and lungs. He had a habit of suddenly
leaving the class he was taking to indulge in it
for a few minutes, returning breathless but re¬
freshed.
Mr. Tinkler was at his seat, wearing that
faint grin on his face with which one prepares to
see a pig killed or a bull-fight, and all the boys
fixed their eyes expectantly on Mr. Multitude as
he appeared at the doorway.
"Stand there, sir," said the Doctor, who was
standing at his writing-table in an attitude; "out
there in the middle, where your schoolfellows can
see you." Paul obeyed and stood where he was
told, looking, as he felt, absolutely boneless.
"Some of those here," began the Doctor in
an impressive bass, "may wonder why I have
called you all together on this, the first day of
the week; most of those who reside under my
roof are acquainted with, and I trust execrate, the
miserable cause of my doing so.
"If there is one virtue which I have striven
to implant more than any other in your breasts,"
he continued, "it is the cultivation of a modest
and becoming reserve in your intercourse with
those of the opposite sex.
"With the majority I have, I hope, been
successful, and it is as painful for me to tell as
for you to hear, that there exists in your midst
a youthful reprobate, trained in all the arts of
A RESPITE.
257
ensnaring the vagrant fancies of innocent but giddy
girlhood.
"See him as he cowers there before your gaze,
in all the bared hideousness of his moral depravity"
(the Doctor on occasions like these never spared
his best epithets, and Paul soon began to feel
himself a very villain); "a libertine, young in years,
but old in—in everything else, who has not scrupled
to indite an amatory note, so appalling in its fa¬
miliarity, and so outrageous in the warmth of its
sentiments, that I cannot bring myself to shock
your ears with its contents.
"You do well to shun him as a moral leper;
but how shall I tell you that, not satisfied with
pressing his effusions upon the shrinking object of
his precocious affections, the miserable being has
availed himself of the shelter of a church to cloak
his insidious advances, and even forces a response
to them from a heedless and imprudent girl!
"If," continued the Doctor, now allowing his
powerful voice to boom to its full compass—"if I
can succeed in bringing this coward, this unmanly
dallier in a sentiment which the healthy mind of boy¬
hood rejects as premature, to a sense of his de¬
testable conduct; if I can score the lesson upon
his flesh so that some faint notion of its force and
purport may be conveyed to what has been sup¬
plied to him as a heart, then I shall not have
lifted this hand in vain!
"He shall see whether he will be allowed to
trail the fair name of the school for propriety and
correctness of deportment in the dust of a pew-
S
258
VICE VERSA.
floor, and spurn my reputation as a preceptor like
a church hassock beneath his feet!
"I shall say no more; I will not prolong these
strictures, deserved though they be, beyond their
proper limits ... I shall now proceed to act.
Richard Bultitude, remain there till I return to
mete out to you with no sparing hand the punish¬
ment you have so richly merited."
With these awful words the Doctor left the
room, leaving Paul in a state of abject horror and
dread which need not be described. Never, never
again would he joke, as he had been wont to do
with Dick in lighter moods, on the subject of cor¬
poral punishment under any circumstances—it was
no fit theme for levity; if this—this outrage were
really done to him, he should never be able to hold
up his head again. What if it were to get about
in the city!
The boys, who had sunk, as they always did,
into a state of torpid awe under the Doctor's elo¬
quence, now recovered spirits enough to rally Paul
with much sprightly humour.
"He's gone to fetch his cane," said some,
and imitated for Paul's instruction the action of
caning by slapping a ruler upon a copy-book with
a dreadful fidelity and resonance; others sought
to cross-examine him upon the love-letter, it ap¬
pearing from their casual remarks ttiat not a few
had been also honoured by communications from
the artless Miss Davenant.
It is astonishing how unfeeling even ordinarily
good-natured boys can be at times.
A RESPITE.
259
Sludge sat at his desk with raised shoulders,
rubbing his hands, and grinning like some male¬
volent ape: "I told you, Dickie, you know," he
murmured, "that it was better not to cross me."
And still the Doctor lingered. Some kindly
suggested that he was "waxing the cane." But
the more general opinion was that he had been
detained by some visitor; for it appeared that
(though Paul had not noticed it) several had heard
a ring at the bell. The suspense was growing
more and more unbearable.
At last the door opened in a slow ominous
manner, and the Doctor appeared. There was a
visible change in his manner, however. The white
heat of his indignation had died out: his expres¬
sion was grave but distinctly softened—and he
had nothing in his hand.
"I want you outside, Bultitude," he said; and
Paul, still uncertain whether the scene of his dis¬
grace was only about to be shifted, or what else
this might mean, followed him into the hall.
"If anything can strike shame and confusion
into your soul, Richard," said the Doctor, when
they were outside, "it will be what I have to tell
you now. Your unhappy father is here, in the
dining-room."
Paul staggered. Had Dick the brazen effron¬
tery to come here to taunt him in his slavery?
What was the meaning of it? What should he
say to him? He could not answer the Doctor
but by a vacant stare.
"I have not seen him yet," said the Doctor.
s*
26O
VICE VERSA.
"He has come at a most inopportune moment"
(here Mr. Bultitude could not agree with him).
"I shall allow you to meet him first, and give you
the opportunity of breaking your conduct to him.
I know it will wring his paternal heart!" and the
Doctor shook his head sadly, and turned away.
With a curious mixture of shame, anger, and
impatience, Paul turned the handle of the dining-
room door. He was to meet Dick face to face
once more. The final duel must be fought out
between them here. Who would be the victor?
It was a strange sensation on entering to see
the image of what he had so lately been standing
by the mantelpiece. It gave a shock to his sense
of his own identity. It seemed so impossible that
that stout substantial frame could really contain
Dick. P"or an instant he was totally at a loss for
words, and stood pale and speechless in the pre¬
sence of his unprincipled son.
Dick on his side seemed at least as much
embarrassed. He giggled uneasily, and made a
sheepish otter to shake hands, which was indig¬
nantly declined.
As Paul looked he saw distinctly that his
son's fraudulent imitation of his father's personal
appearance had become deteriorated in many
respects since that unhappy night when he had
last seen it. It was then a copy, faultlessly ac¬
curate in every detail. It was now almost a cari¬
cature, a libel!
The complexion was nearly sallow, with the
exception of the nose, which had rather deepened
AN ERROR OF JUDGMENT.
26l
in colour. The skin was loose and flabby, and
the eyes dull and a little bloodshot. But perhaps
the greatest alteration was in the dress. Dick
wore an old light tweed shooting-coat of his, and
a pair of loose trousers of blue serge; while, in¬
stead of the formally tied black neckloth his father
had worn for a quarter of a century, he had a
large scarf round his neck of some crude and
gaudy colour; and the conventional chimney-pot
hat had been discarded for a shabby old wide-
brimmed felt wideawake.
Altogether, is was by no means the costume
which a British merchant, with any self-respect
whatever, would select, even for a country visit.
And thus they met, as perhaps, never, since
this world was first set spinning down the ringing
grooves of change, met father and son before!
CHAPTER XIV.
AN ERROR OF JUDGMENT.
"The Survivorship of a worthy Man in his Son is a Pleasure
scarce inferior to the Hopes of the Continuance of his own
Life."—Spectator.
Du bist ein Knabe—sei es immerhin
Und fahre fort, den Frohlichen zu spielen.
Schiller, Don Carlos.
Paul was the first to break a very awkward
silence. "You young scoundrel!" he said, with
262
VICE VERSA.
suppressed rage. "What the devil do you mean
by laughing like that? It's no laughing matter,
let me tell you, sir, for one of us!"
"I can't help laughing," said Dick; "you do
look so queer!"
"Queer! I may well look queer. I tell you
that I have never, never in my whole life, spent
such a perfectly infernal week as this last!"
"Ah!" observed Dick, "I thought you wouldn't
find it all jam! And yet you seemed to be
enjoying yourself, too," he said with a grin, "from
that letter you wrote."
"What made you come here? Couldn't you
be content with your miserable victory, without
coming down to crow and jeer at me?"
"It isn't that," said Dick. "I—I thought I
should like to see the fellows, and find out how you
were getting on, you know." These, however,
were not his only and his principal motives. He
had come down to get a sight of Dulcie.
"Well, sir," said Mr. Bultitude, with ponderous
sarcasm, "you'll be delighted to hear that I'm
getting on uncommonly well — oh, uncommonly!
Your high-spirited young friends batter me to sleep
with slippers on most nights, and, as a general
thing, kick me about during the day like a con¬
founded football! And last night, sir, I was going
to be expelled; and this morning I'm forgiven, and
sentenced to be soundly flogged before the whole
school! It was just about to take place as you
came in; and I've every reason to believe it is
merely postponed!"
AN ERROR OF JUDGMENT.
263
"I say, though," said Dick, "you must have
been going it rather, you know. I've never been
expelled. Has Chawner been sneaking again?
What have you been up to?"
"Nothing. I solemnly swear—nothing! They're
finding out things you've done, and thrashing me."
"Well," said Dick soothingly, "you'll work
them all off during the term, I daresay. There
aren't many really bad ones. I suppose he's seen
my name cut on his writing-table?"
"No; not that I'm aware of," said Paul.
"Oh, he'd let you hear of it if he had!" said
Dick. "It's good for a whacking, that is. But,
after all, what's a whacking? I never cared for a
whacking."
"But I do care, sir. I care very much, and, I
tell you, I won't stand it. I can't! Dick," he said
abruptly, as a sudden hope seized him. "You, you
haven't come down here to say you're tired of
your folly, have you? Do you want to give it up?"
"Rather not," said Dick. "Why should I?
No school, nothing to do but amuse myself, eat
and drink what I like, and lots of money. It's
not likely, you know."
"Have you ever thought that you're bringing
yourself within reach of the law, sir?" said Paul,
trying to frighten him. "Perhaps you don't know
that there's an offence known as 'false personation
with intent to defraud,' and that it's a, felony.
That's what you're doing at this moment, sir 1"
"Not any more than you arel" retorted Dick.
"I never began it. I had as much right to wish
264
VICE VERSA.
to be you, as you had to wish to be me. You're
just what you said you wanted to be, so you
can't complain."
"It's useless to argue with you, I see," said
Paul. "And you've no feelings. But I'll warn you
of one thing. Whether that is my body or not
you've fraudulently taken possession of, I don't
know; if it is not, it is very like mine, and I tell
you this about it. The sort of life you're leading
it, sir, will very soon make an end of you, if you
don't take care. Do you think that a constitution
at my age can stand sweet wines and pastry, and
late hours? Why, you'll be laid up with gout in
another day or two. Don't tell me, sir. I know
you're suffering from indigestion at this very
minute. I can see your liver (it may be my liver
for anything I know) is out of order. I can see
it in your eyes."
Dick was a little alarmed at this, but he soon
said: "Well, and if I am seedy, I can get Barbara
to take the stone and wish me all right again.
Can't I? That's easy enough, I suppose?"
"Oh, easy enough!" said Paul, with a sup¬
pressed groan. "But, Dick, you don't go up to
Mincing Lane in that suit and that hat? Don't
tell me you do that!"
"When I do go up, I wear them," said Dick
composedly. "Why not? It's a roomy suit, and
I hate a great topper on my head; I've had enough
of that here on Sundays. But it's slow up at
your office. The chaps there aren't half up to
any larks. I made a first-rate booby-trap, though,
AN ERROR OF JUDGMENT. 265
one day for an old yellow buffer who came in to
see you. He was in a bait when he found the
waste-paper basket on his head!"
"What was his name?" said Paul, with forced
calm.
"Something like 'Shells.' He said he was a
very old friend of mine, and I told him he lied."
"Shellack-—my Canton correspondent—a man
I was anxious to be of use to when he came
over!" moaned Mr. Bultitude. "Miserable young
cub, you don't know what mischief you've done!"
"Well, it won't matter much to you now,"
said Dick; "you're out of it all."
"Do you — do you mean to keep me out of
it for ever then?" asked Paul.
"As long as ever I can!" returned Dick
frankly. "It will be rather interesting to see what
sort of a fellow you'll grow into—if you ever do
grow. Perhaps you will always be like that, you
know. This magic is a rum thing to meddle
with."
This suggestion almost maddened Paul. He
made one stride forward, and faced his son with
blazing eyes. "Do you think I will put up with
it?" he said, between his teeth. "Do you suppose
I shall stand calmly by and see you degrading
and ruining me? I may never be my old self
again, but I don't mean to play into your hands
for all that. You can't always keep me here, and
wherever I go I'll tell my tale. I know you,
you clumsy rogue, you haven't the sense to play
your part with common intelligence now. You
266
VICE VERSA.
would betray yourself directly I challenged you
to deny my story. . . . You know you would. . . .
You couldn't face me for five minutes. By Gad!
I'll do it now. I'll expose you before the Doctor
— before the whole school. You shall see if you
can dispose of me quite so easily as you imagine 1"
Dick had started back at first in unmistakable
alarm at this unexpected defiance, probably feeling
his self-possession unequal to such a test; but,
when Paul had finished, he said doggedly: "Well,
you can do it if you choose, I suppose. I can't
stop you. But I don't see what good it would do."
"It would show people you were an impudent
impostor, sir," said Paul sternly, going to the
door as if to call the Doctor, though he shrank
secretly from so extreme and dangerous a measure,
There was a hesitation in his manner, in
spite of the firmness of his words, which Dick
was not likely to miss. "Stop!" he said. "Before
you call them in, just listen to me for a minute.
Do you see this?" And, opening his coat, he pulled
out from his waistcoat pocket one end of his
watch-chain. Hanging to it, attached by a cheap
gilt fastening of some sort, was a small grey
tablet. Paul knew it at once — it was the Garuda
Stone. "You know it, I see," said Dick, as Paul
was about to move towards him—with what object
he scarcely knew himself. "Don't trouble to come
any closer. Well, I give you fair warning. You
can make things very nasty for me if you like.
I can't help that—but, if you do—if you try to
score me oft" in any way, now or at any time—
AN ERROR OF JUDGMENT.
267
if you don't keep it up when the Doctor comes
in—I tell you what I shall do. I shall go straight
home and find young Roly. I shall give him this
stone, and just tell him to say some wish after
me. I don't believe there are many things it
can't do, and all I can say is—if you find yourself
and all this jolly old school (except Dulcie) taken
off somewhere and stuck down all at once thousands
of miles away on a desolate island, or see yourself
turned into a red Indian, or, or a cabhorse, you'll
have yourself to thank for it—that's all. Now
you can have them all up and fire away."
"No," said Paul, in a broken voice, for, wild
as the threat was, he could not afford to despise
it after his experiences of the stone's power.
"I—I was joking, Dick; at least I didn't mean it.
I know of course I'm helpless. It's a sad thing
for a father to say, but you've got the best of
it. ... I give in ... I won't interfere with you.
There's only one thing I ask. You won't try
any more experiments with that miserable stone.
. . . You'll promise me that, at least?"
"Yes," said Dick; "it's all right- I'll play
fair. As long as you behave yourself and back
me up I won't touch it. I only want to stay as
I am. I don't want to hurt you."
"You won't lose it?" said Paul anxiously.
"Couldn't you lock it up? that fastening doesn't
look very safe."
"It wiU do well enough," said Dick, "I got
it done at the watchmaker's round the corner,
268
VICE VERSA.
for sixpence. But I'll have a stronger ring put
in somewhere, if I think of it."
There was a pause, in which the conversation
seemed about to flag hopelessly, but at last Dick
said, almost as if he felt some compunction for
his present unfilial attitude: "Now, you know, it's
much better to take things quietly. It can't be
altered now, can it? And it's not such bad fun
being a boy after all—for some things. You'll
get into it by-and-by, you see if you don't, and
be as jolly as a sandboy. We shall get along
all right together, too. I shan't be hard on you.
It isn't my fault that you happen to be at this
particular school—You chose it! And after this
term you can go to any other school you like—
Eton or Rugby, or anywhere. I don't mind the
expense. Or, if you'd rather, you can have a
private tutor. And I'll buy you a pony, and you
can ride in the Row. You shall have a much
better time of it than I ever had, as long as you
let me go on my own way."
But these dazzling bribes had no influence
upon Mr. Bultitude; nothing short of complete
restitution would ever satisfy him, and he was too
proud and too angry at his crushing defeat to
even pretend to be in the least pacified.
"I don't want your pony," he said bitterly;
"I might as well have a white elephant, and I
don't suppose I should enjoy myself much more
at a public school than I do here. Let's have no
humbug, sir. You're up and I'm down—there's
no more to be said—I shall tell the Doctor
AN ERROR OF JUDGMENT.
269
nothing, but I warn you, if ever the time
comes "
"Oh, of course," said Dick, feeling tolerably
secure, now he had disposed of the main diffi¬
culty. "If you can turn me out, I suppose you
will—that's only fair. I shall take care not to give
you the chance. And, oh, I say, do you want any
tin? How much have you got left?"
Paul turned away his head, lest Dick should
see the sudden exultation he knew it must betray,
as he said, with an effort to appear unconcerned,
"I came away with exactly five shillings, and I
haven't a penny now!"
"I say," said Dick, "you are a fellow; you
must have been going it. How did you get rid of
it all in a week?"
"It went, as far as I can understand," said
Mr. Bultitude, "in rabbits and mice. Some boys
claimed it as money they paid you to get them,
I believe."
"All your own fault," said Dick, "you would
have them drowned. But you'd better have some
tin to get along with. How much do you want?
Will half-a-crown do?"
"Half-a-crown is not much, Dick," said his
father, almost humbly.
"It's—ahem—a handsome allowance for a
young fellow like you," said Dick, rather unkindly;
"but I haven't any half-crowns left. I must give
you this, I suppose."
And he held out a sovereign, never dreaming
what it signified to Paul, who clutched it with
270
VICE VERSA.
feelings too great for words, though gratitude
was not a part of them, for was it not his own
money?
"And now look out," said Dick, "I hear Grim.
Remember what I told you: keep it up."
Dr. Grimstone came in with the air of a man
who has a painful duty to perform; he started
slightly as his eye noted the change in his visitor's
dress and appearance. "I hope," he began gravely,
"that your son has spared me the pain of going
into the details of his misbehaviour; I wish I could
give you a bettef report of him."
Dick was plainly, in spite of his altered cir¬
cumstances, by no means at ease in the school¬
master's presence; he stood, shifting from foot to
foot on the hearth-rug, turning extremely red and
obstinately declining to raise his eyes from the
ground.
"Oh, ah," he stammered at last, "you were
just going to whack him, weren't you, when I
turned up, sir?"
"I found myself forced," said the Doctor,
slightly shocked at this coarse way of putting things,
"forced to contemplate administering to him (/or
his ultimate benefit) a sharp corrective in the pre¬
sence of his school fellows. I distress you, I see,
but the truth must be told. He has no doubt con¬
fessed his fault to you?"
"No," said Dick, "he hasn't, though. What's
he been up to now?"
"I had hoped he would have been more open,
more straightforward, when confronted with the
AN ERROR OF JUDGMENT.
271
father, who has proved himself so often indulgent
and anxious for his improvement; it would have
been a more favourable symptom, I think. Well,
I must tell you myself. I know too well, what a
shock it will be to your scrupulously sensitive
moral code, my dear Mr. Bultitude" (Dick showed
a painful inclination to giggle here); "but I have to
break to you the melancholy truth that I detected
this unhappy boy in the act of conducting a secret
and amorous correspondence with a young lady in
a sacred edifice!"
Dick whistled sharply: "Oh, I say!" he cried,
"that's bad" (and he wagged his head reprovingly
at his disgusted father, who longed to denounce
his hypocrisy, but dared not); "that's bad ... he
shouldn't do that sort of thing you know, should
he? At his age too . . . the young dogl"
"This horror is what I should have expected
from you," said the Doctor (though he was in
truth more than scandalised by the composure
with which his announcement was received). "Such
boldness is indeed characteristic of the dog, an
animal which, as you are aware, was with the
ancients a synonym for shamelessness. No boy,
however abandoned, should hear such words of un¬
equivocal condemnation from a father's lips with¬
out a pang of shame!"
Paul was only just able to control his rage
by a great effort.
"You're right there, sir," said Dick; "he ought
to be well ragged for it . • . he'll break my heart,
if he goes on like this, the young beggar. But
2J2
VICE VERSA.
we mustn't be too hard on him, eh? After all, it's
nature, you know, isn't it?"
"I beg your pardon?" said Dr. Grimstone
very stiffly.
"I mean," explained Dick, with a perilous
approach to digging the other in the ribs, "we did
much the same sort of thing in our time, eh? I'm
sure I did—lots of times 1"
"I can't reproach myself on that head, Air.
Bultitude; and permit me to say, that such a tone
of treating the affair is apt to destroy the effect,
the excellent moral effect, of your most impress¬
ively conveyed indignation just now. I merely
give you a hint, you understand!"
"Oh, ah," said Dick, feeling that he had made
a mistake, "yes, I didn't mean that. But I say,
you haven't given him a—a whopping yet, have
?»»
"I had just stepped out to procure a cane for
that purpose," said the Doctor, "when your name
was announced."
"Well, look here, you won't want to start
again when I'm gone, will you?"
"An ancient philosopher, my dear sir, was
accustomed to postpone the correction of his slaves
until the first glow of his indignation had passed
away. He found then that he could —"
"Lay it on with more science," suggested
Dick, while Paul writhed where he stood. "Per¬
haps so, but you might forgive him now, don't
you think? he won't do it again. If he goes on writ¬
ing any more love-letters, tell me, and I'll come
AN ERKOR OF JUDGMENT. 273
and talk to him; but he's had a lesson, you know.
Let him off this time."
"I have no right to resist such an entreaty,"
said the Doctor, "though I may be inclined my¬
self to think that a few strokes would render
the lesson more permanent. I must ask you to
reconsider your plea for his pardon."
Paul heard this with indescribable anxiety; he
had begun to feel tolerably sure that his evil hour
was postponed sine die, but might not Dick be
cruel and selfish enough to remain neutral, or even
side with the enemy, in support of his assumed
character?
Luckily he was not. "I'd rather let him off,"
he said awkwardly; "I don't approve of caning
fellows myself. It never did me any good, I know,
and I got enough of it to tell."
"Well, well, I yield. Richard, your father
has interceded for you; and I cannot disregard
his wishes, though I have my own view in the
matter. You will hear no more of this disgraceful
conduct, sir unless you do something to recall it
to my memory. Thank your father for his kind¬
ness, which you so little deserved, and take your
leave of him."
"Oh, there, it's all right 1" said Dick; "he'll
behave himself after this, I know. And oh! I
say, sir," he added hastily, "is-—is Dulcie any¬
where about?"
"My daughter?" asked the Doctor. "Would
you like to see her?"
T
274
VICE VERSA.
"I shouldn't mind," said Dick, blushing furi¬
ously.
"I'm sorry to say she has gone out for a
walk with her mother," said the Doctor. "I'm
afraid she cannot be back for some time It's un¬
fortunate. "
Dick's face fell. "It doesn't matter," he mut¬
tered awkwardly. "She's all right, I hope?"
"She is very seldom ailing, I'm happy to
say; just now she is particularly well, thank you."
"O, is she?" said Dick gloomily, probably
disappointed to find that he was so little missed,
and not suspecting that his father had been ac¬
cepted as a substitute.
"Well, do you mind—could I see the fellows
again for a minute or two—I mean I should rather
like to inspect the school, you know."
"See my boys? Certainly, my dear sir, by-
all means; this way," and he took Dick out to
the schoolroom — Paul following out of curiosity.
"You'll find us at our studies, you see," said the
Doctor, as he opened the first baize door. There
was a suspicious hubbub and hum of voices from
within; but as they entered every boy was bent
over his books with the rapt absorption of the
devoted student — an absorption that was the
direct effect of the sound the door-handle made
in turning.
"Our workshop," said the Doctor airily, look¬
ing round. "My first form, Mr. Bultitude. Some
good workers here, and some idle ones."
AN ERROR OF JUDGMENT.
2/5
Dick stood in the doorway, looking (if the
truth must be told) uncommonly foolish. He had
wanted, in coming there, to enjoy the contrast
between the past and present—which accounts for
a good many visits of "old boys" to the scene
of their education. But, confronted with his former
schoolfellows, he was seized at first with an utterly
unreasonable fear of detection.
The class behaved as classes usually do on
such occasions. The good boys smirked and the
bad ones stared —the general expression being one
of uneasy curiosity. Dick said never a word,
feeling strangely bashful and nervous.
"This is Tipping, my head boy," touching
that young gentleman on the shoulder, and mak¬
ing him several degrees more uncomfortable. "I
expect solid results from Tipping some day."
"He looks as if his head was pretty solid," said
Dick, who had once cut his knuckles against it.
"My second boy, Biddlecomb. If he applies
himself, he too will do me credit in the world."
"How do, Biddlecomb?" said Dick. "I owe
you ninepence—I mean— oh, hang it, here's a
shilling for you! Hallo, Chawner 1" he went on,
gradually overcoming his first nervousness, "how
are you getting on, eh? Doing much in the sneak¬
ing way lately?"
"You know him!" exclaimed the Doctor with
naive surprise.
"No, no; I don't know him. I've heard of
him, you know—heard of him I" Chawner looked
T*
2-6
VICE VERSA.
down his nose with a feeble attempt at a gratified
simper, while his neighbours giggled with furtive
relish.
"Well," said Dick at last, after a look at all
the old familiar objects, "I must be off, you know.
Got some important business at home this evening
to look after. The fellows look very jolly and
content, and all that sort of thing. Enough to
make one want to be a boy again almost, eh?
Good-bye, you chaps—ahem, young gentlemen, I
wish you good morning!"
And he went out, leaving behind him the
impression that "young Bultitude's governor wasn't
half such a bad old buffer."
He paused at the open front door, to which
Paul and the Doctor had accompanied him. "Good¬
bye," he said; "I wish I'd seen Dulcie. I should
like to see your daughter, sir; but it can't be
helped. Good-bye; and you," he added in a lower
tone to his father, who was standing by, inex¬
pressibly pained and disgusted by his utter want
of dignity, "you mind what I told you. Don't
try games with me!"
And, as he skipped jauntily down the steps
to the gateway, the Doctor followed his unwieldy,
oddly-dressed form with his eyes, and, inclining
his head gravely to Dick's sweeping wave of the
hand, asked with a compassionate tone in his
voice, "You don't happen to know, Richard my
boy, if your father has had any business troubles
lately — anything to disturb him?"
THE RUBICON. 277
And Mr. Bultitude's feelings prevented him
from making any intelligible reply.
CHAPTER XV.
THE RUBICON.
My three schoolfellows,
Whom I will trust—as 1 will adders fanged;
They bear the mandate.
PAUL never quite knew how the remainder of
that day passed at Crichton House. He was or¬
dered to join a class which was more or less
engaged with some kind of work: he had a hazy
idea that it was Latin, though it may have been
Greek; but he was spared the necessity of taking
any active part in the proceedings, as Mr. Blink-
horn was not disposed to be too exacting with a
boy who in one short morning had endured a
sentence of expulsion, a lecture, the immediate
prospect of a flogging, and a paternal visit, and,
as before, mercifully left him alone.
His classmates, however, did not show the
same chivalrous delicacy; and Paul had to suffer
many unmannerly jests and gibes at his expense,
frequent and anxious inquiries as to the exact
nature of his treatment in the dining-room, with
sundry highly imaginative versions of the same,
while there was much candid and unbiassed com-
2?S
VICE VERSA.
ment on the appearance and conduct of himself
and his son.
But he bore it unprotesting—or, rather, he
scarcely noticed it; for all his thoughts were now
entirely taken up by one important subject—the
time and manner of his escape.
Thanks to Dick's thoughtless liberality, he had
now ample funds to carry him safely home. It
was hardly likely that any more unexpected claims
could be brought against him now, particularly
as he had no intention of publishing his return to
solvency. He might reasonably consider himself
in a position to make his escape at the very first
favourable opportunity.
When would that opportunity present itself?
It must come soon. He could not wait long for
it. Any hour might yet see him pounced upon
and flogged heartily for some utterly unknown
and unsuspected transgression; or the golden key
which would unlock his prison bars might be lost
in some unlucky moment; for his long series of
reverses had made him loth to trust to Fortune,
even when she seemed to look smilingly once
more upon him.
Fortune's countenance is apt to be so alarm¬
ingly mobile with some unfortunates.
But in spite of the new facilities given him
for escape, and his strong motives for taking ad¬
vantage of them, he soon found to his utter dis¬
may that he shrank from committing himself to
so daring and dangerous a course, just as much
THE RUBICON.
279
as when he had tried to make a confidant of the
Doctor.
For, after all, could he be sure of himself?
Would his ill-luck suffer him to seize the one pro¬
pitious moment, or would that fatal self-distrust
and doubt that had paralysed him for the past
week seize him again just at the crisis?
Suppose he did venture to take the first ir¬
revocable step, could he rely on himself to go
through the rest of his hazardous enterprise? Was
he cool and wary enough? He dared not expect
an uninterrupted run. Had he ruses and expe¬
dients at command on any sudden check?
If he could not answer all these doubts fa¬
vourably, was it not sheer madness to take to
flight at all?
He felt a dismal conviction that his success
would have to depend, not on his own cunning,
but on the forbearance or blindness of others.
The slightest contretemps must infallibly upset him
altogether.
The fact was, he had all his life been en¬
gaged in the less eventful and contentious branches
of commerce. His will had seldom had to come
in contact with others, and when it did so, he
had found means, being of a prudent and cautious
temperament, of avoiding disagreeable personal
consequences by timely compromises or judicious
employment of delegates. He had generally found
his fellow-men ready to meet him reasonably as
an equal or a superior.
But now he must be prepared to see in
28o
vice versa.
everyone he met a possible enemy, who would
hand him over to the tyrant on the faintest sus¬
picion. They were spies to be baffled or
disarmed, pursuers to be eluded. The smallest slip
in his account of himself would be enough to
undo him.
No wonder that, as he thought over all this,
his heart quailed within him.
They say—the paradox-mongers say—that it
requires a far higher degree of moral courage for
a soldier in action to leave the ranks under fire
and seek a less distinguished position towards the
rear, than would carry him on with the rest to
charge a battery.
This may be true, though it might not prove
a very valuable defence at a court-martial; but,
at all events, Mr. Bultitude found, when it came
to the point, that it was almost impossible for
him to screw up his courage to run away.
It is not a pleasant state, this indecision
whether to stay passively and risk the worst or
avoid it by flight; and the worst of it is that,
whatever course is eventually forced upon us, it
finds us equally unprepared, and more liable
from such indecision to bungle miserably in the
sequel.
Paul might never have gained heart to ven¬
ture, but for an unpleasant incident that took place
during dinner, and a discovery he made after it.
They happened to have a particularly unpo¬
pular pudding that day; a pallid preparation of
suet, with an infrequent currant or two embalmed
/
THE RUBICON. 281
in it, and Paul was staring at his portion of this
delicacy disconsolately enough, wondering -how he
should contrive to consume and, worse still, digest
it, when his attention was caught by Jolland, who
sat directly opposite him.
That young gentleman, who evidently shared
the general dislike to the currant pudding, was
inviting Mr. Bultitude's attention to a little con¬
trivance of his own for getting rid of it, which
consisted in delicately shovelling the greater part
of what was on his plate into a large envelope
held below the table to receive it.
This struck Paul as a heaven-sent method of
avoiding the difficulty, and he had just got the
envelope which had held Barbara's letter out of
his pocket, intending to follow Jolland's example,
when the Doctor's voice made him start guiltily
and replace the envelope in his pocket.
"Jolland," said the Doctor, "what have you
got there?"
"An envelope, sir," explained Jolland, who
had now got the remains of his pudding safely
bestowed.
"What is in that envelope?" said the Doctor,
who happened to have been watching him.
"In the envelope, sir? Pudding, sir," said
Jolland, as if it were the most natural thing in
the world to send bulky portions of pudding
by post.
"And why did you place pudding in the
envelope?" inquired the Doctor in his deepest
tone.
VICE VERSA.
Jolland felt a difficulty in explaining that he
had done so because he wished to avoid eating
it, and with a view to interring it later on in the
playground: he preferred silence.
"Shall I tell you why you did it, sir?"
thundered the Doctor. "You did it, because you
were scheming to obtain a second portion—because
you did not feel yourself able to eat both portions
at your leisure here, and thought to put by
a part to devour in secret at a future time. It's
a most painful exhibition of pure piggishness.
There shall be no pocketing at this table, sir.
You will eat that pudding under my eye at once,
and you will stay in and write out French verbs
for two days. That will put an end to any
more guzzling in the garden for a time, at least."
Jolland seemed stupified, though relieved, by
the unexpected construction put upon his conduct,
as he gulped down the intercepted fragments of
pudding, while the rest diligently cleared their
plates with as much show of appreciation as they
could muster.
Mr. Bultitude shuddered at this one more
narrow escape. If he had been detected—as he
must have been in another instant—in smuggling
pudding in an envelope, he might have in¬
cautiously betrayed his real motives, and then, as
the Doctor was morbidly sensitive as to all com¬
plaints of the fare he provided, he would have got
into worse trouble than the unfortunate Jolland, to
say nothing of the humiliation of being detected
in such an act.
THE RUIilCON.
283
It was a solemn warning to him of the
dangers he was exposed to hourly, while he
lingered within those walls; but his position was
still more strongly brought home to him by the
terrible discovery he made shortly afterwards.
He was alone in the schoolroom, for the
others had all gone down into the playground,
except Jolland, who was confined in one of the
class-rooms below, when the thought came over
him to test the truth of Dick's hint about a name
cut on the Doctor's writing-table.
He stole up to it guiltily, and, lifting the
slanting desk which stood there, examined the
surface below. Dick had been perfectly correct.
There it was, glaringly fresh and distinct, not large
but very deeply cut and fearfully legible, "R.
Bultitude." It might have been done that day.
Dick had probably performed it out of bravado,
or under the impression that he was not going to
return after the holidays.
Paul dropped the desk over the fatal letters
with a shudder. The slightest accidental shifting
of it must disclose them—nothing but a miracle
could have kept them concealed so long. When
they did come to light, he knew from what he
had seen of the Doctor, that the act would be
considered as an outrage of the blackest and most
desperate kind. He would most unquestionably
get a flogging for itl
He fetched a large pewter ink-pot, and tried
nervously to blacken the letters with the tip of a
VICE VERSA.
quill, to make them, if possible, rather less ob¬
trusive than they were. All in vain; they only
stood out with more startling vividness when
picked out in black upon the brown-stained deal.
1 le felt very like a conscience-stricken murderer
trying to hide a corpse that wouldn't be buried.
He gave it up at last, having only made a
terrible mess with the ink.
That settled it. He must fly. The flogging
must be avoided at all hazards. If an
opportunity delayed its coming, why, he must do
without the opportunity — he must make one. For
good or ill, his mind was made up now for
immediate flight.
All that afternoon, while he sat trying to
keep his mind upon long sums in Bills of Parcels,
which disgusted him, as a business man, by the
glaring improbability of their details, his eye
wandered furtively down the long tables to where
the Doctor sat at the head of the class. Every
chance movement of the principal's elbow filled
him with a sickening dread. A hundred times
those rudely carved letters seemed about to start
forth and denounce him.
It was a disquieting afternoon for Paul.
Put the time dragged wearily on, and still
the desk loyally kept its secret. The dusk drew
on and the gasburners were lit. The younger
boys came up from the lower class-room and were
sent out to play; the Doctor shortly afterwards
dismissed his own class to follow them, and Paul
and his companions had the room to themselves.
TI1E RUBICON.
285
He sat there on the rough form with his slate
before him, hearing half-unconsciously the shouts,
laughter, and ring of feet coming up from the
darkness outside, and the faint notes of a piano,
which filtered through the double doors from
one of the rooms, where a boy was practising
Haydn's "Surprise," from Hamilton's exercise
book, a surprise which he rendered as a mildly
interjectional form of astonishment.
All the time Paul was racked with an intense
burning desire to get up and run for it then,
before it became too late; but cold fits doubt and
fear preserved him from such lunacy—he would
wait, his chance might come before long.
His patience was rewarded; the Doctor came
in looking at his watch, and said, "I think these
boys have had enough of it, Mr. Tinkler, eh?
You can send them out now till tea-time."
Mr. Tinkler, who had been entangling himself
frightfully in intricate calculations upon the black
to ird, without making a single convert, was only
too glad to take advantage of the suggestion, and
Paul followed the rest into the playground with a
sense of relief.
The usual "chevy" was going on there, with
more spirit than usual, perhaps, because the dark¬
ness allowed of practical jokes and surprises, and
offered great facilities for paying off old grudges
with secrecy and despatch, and as the Doctor had
come to the door of the greenhouse, and was look¬
ing on, the players exerted themselves still more,
till the prison to which most of one side had been
VICE VERSA.
consigned by being run down and touched by
their fleeter enemies was filled with a long line
of captives holding hands and calling out to be
released.
Paul, who had run out vaguely from his base,
was promptly pursued and made prisoner by an
unnecessarily vigorous thumb in the back, after
which he took his place at the bottom of the line
of imprisoned ones.
But the enemy's spirit began to slacken: one
after another of the players still left to the opposite
side succeeded in outrunning pursuit and touching
the foremost prisoner for the time being, so as
to set him free by the rules of the game. The
Doctor went in again, and the enemy relapsed
as usual into total indifference, so that Paul,
without exactly knowing how, soon found himself
the only one left in gaol, unnoticed and apparently
forgotten.
lie could not see anything through the dark¬
ness, but he heard the voices of the boys disput¬
ing at the other side of the playground; he looked
round; at his right was the indistinct form of a
large laurel bush, behind that he knew was the
playground gate. Could it be that his chance had
come at last?
He slipped behind the laurel and waited, hold¬
ing his breath; the dispute still went on; no one
seemed to have noticed him, probably the dark¬
ness prevented all chance of that; he went on tip¬
toe to the gate —it was not locked.
He opened it very carefully a little way;
THE RUBICON.
287
it was forbearing enough not to creak, and the
next moment he was outside, free to go where he
would!
Escape, after all, was simple enough when he
came to try it; he could hardly believe at first
that he really was free at last; free with money
enough in his pocket to take him home, with the
friendly darkness to cover his retreat; free to go
back and confront Dick on his own ground, and,
by force or fraud, get the Garuda Stone into his
own hands once more.
As yet he never doubted that it would be
easy enough to convince his household, if neces¬
sary, of the truth of his story, and enlist them
one and all on his side ; all that he required, he
thought, was caution: he must reach the house
unobserved, and wait and watch, and the deuce
would be in it if the stone were not safe in his
pocket again before twelve hours had gone by.
All this time he was still within a hundred
yards or so of the playground wall; he must de¬
cide upon some particular route, some definite
method of ordering his flight; to stay where he
was any longer would clearly be unwise, yet, where
should he go first?
If he went to the station at once, how could
he tell that he should be lucky enough to catch
a train without having to wait long for it, and
unless he did that, he would almost certainly be
sought for first on the station platform, and might
be caught before a train was due.
At last, with an astuteness he had not sus-
288
VICE VERSA.
pected himself of possessing, which was probably
the result of the harrowing experiences he had
lately undergone, he hit upon a plan of action.
"I'll go to a shop," he thought, "and change
this sovereign, and ask to look at a time-table
—then, if I find I can catch a train at once, I'll
run for it; if one is not due for some time, I
can hang about near the station till it comes in."
With this intention he walked on towards
the town till he came to a small terrace of shops,
when he went into the first, which was a stationer's
and toy-dealer's, with a stock in trade of cheap
wooden toys and incomprehensible games, draw¬
ing slates, penny packets of stationery and cards
of pen and pencil-holders, and a particularly stuffy
atmosphere; the proprietor, a short man with a
fat white face with a rich glance all over it, and
a fringe of ragged brown whisker meeting under
his chin, was sitting behind the counter posting
up his ledger.
Paul looked round the shop in search ot
something to purchase, and at last said, more nerv¬
ously than he expected to do, "I want a pencil-
case, one which screws up and down." He thought
a pencil-case would be an innocent, unsuspicious
think to ask for. The man set rows of cards con¬
taining pencil-cases of every imaginable shape on
the counter before him, and when Mr. Bultitude
had chosen one, the stationer asked if there would
be anything else, and if he might send it for
him. "You're one of Dr. Grimstone's young gen-
THE RUBICON.
289
tlemen up at Crichton House, aren't you, sir?" he
added.
A guilty dread of discovery made Paul anxious
to deny this at once. "No," he said; "Oh no; no
connection with the place. Ah, could you allow me
to look at a time-table?"
"Certainly, sir; expectin' some one to-night
or to-morrow p'raps. Let me see," he said, con¬
sulting a table which hung behind him. "There's
a train from Pancras comes in in half an hour
from now, 6.5 that is; there's is another doo at
8.15, and one at 9.30. Then from Liverpool Street
they run—"
"Thank you," said Mr. Bultitude, "but—but I
want the up-trains."
"Ah," said the man, with a rather peculiar
intonation, "I thought maybe your par or your
mar was comin' down. Ain't Dr. Grimstone got
the times the trains go?"
"Yes," said Paul desperately, without very
well knowing what he said, "yes, he has, but
ah, not for this month, he — he sent me to
inquire."
"Did he though?" said the stationer. "I thought
you wasn't one of his young gentlemen?"
Mr. Bultitude saw what a fearful trap he had
fallen into and stood speechless.
"Go along with you 1" said the little stationer
at last, with a not unkindly grin. "L.or bless you,
I knew your face the minnit you come in. To go
and tell me a brazen story like that! You're a
young pickle, you are!"
u
290
VICE VERSA.
Mr. Bultitude began to shuffle feebly towards
the door. "Pickle, eh?" he protested in great dis¬
composure. "No, no. Heaven knows I'm no pickle.
It's of no consequence about those trains. Don't
trouble. Good evening to you."
"Stop," said the man, "don't be in such a
hurry now. You tell me what you want to know
straightforward, and I don't mean to say as I
won't help you so far as I can. Don't be afraid
of my telling 110 tales. I've bin a schoolboy
myself in my time, bless your 'art. I shouldn't
wonder now if I couldn't make a pretty good
guess without telling at what you're after. You've
bin a catchin' of it hot, and you want to make a
clean bolt of it. I ain't very far off, now, am I?"
"No," said Paul; for something in the man's
manner inspired confidence. "I do want to make
a clean bolt of it. I've been most abominably
treated."
"Well, look here, I ain't got no right to
interfere; and if you're caught, I look to you not
to bring my name in. I don't want to get into
trouble up at Crichton House and lose good
customers, you see. But I like the looks of you,
and you've always dealt 'ere pretty regular. I
don't mind if I give you a lift. Just see here.
You want to get off to London, don't you? What
for is your business, not mine. Well, there's a
train, express, stops at only one station on the
way, in at 5.50. It's twenty minnits to six now.
If you take that road just oppersite, it'll bring
you out at the end of the Station Road; you can
THE RUBICON.
2yl
do it easy in ten minnits and have time to spare.
So cut away, and good luck to you!"
"I'm vastly obliged to you," said Paul, and
he meant it. It was a new experience to find
anyone offering him assistance. He left the close
little shop, crossed the road, and started off in
the direction indicated to him at a brisk trot.
His steps rang out cheerfully on the path
ironbound with frost. He was almost happy
again under the exhilarating glow of unusual
exercise and the excitement of escape and regained
freedom.
He ran on, past a series of villa residences
enclosed in varnished palings and adorned with
that mediaeval abundance of turrets, balconies, and
cheap stained-glass, which is accepted nowadays
as a guarantee of the tenant's culture, and a satis¬
factory substitute for effective drainage. After
the villas came a church, and a few yards farther
on the road turned with a sharp curve into the
main thoroughfare leading to the station.
He was so near it that he could hear the
shrill engine whistles, and the banging of trucks
on the railway sidings echoed sharply from the
neighbouring houses. He was saved, in sight of
haven at lastl
Full of delight at the thought, he put on a
still greater pace, and turning the corner without
looking, ran into a little party of three, which
was coming in the opposite direction.
Fate's vein of irony was by no means worked
out yet. As he was recovering from the collision,
U*
292
VICE VERSA.
and preparing to offer or accept an apology, as
the case might be, he discovered to his horror
that he had fallen amongst no strangers.
The three were his old acquaintances, Coker,
Coggs, and the virtuous Chavvner—of whom he
had fondly hoped to have seen the last for ever!
The moral and physical shock of such an
encounter took all Mr. Bultitude's remaining breath
away. He stood panting under the sickly rays
of a street-lamp, the very incarnation of helpless,
hopeless dismay.
"Hallo!" said Coker, "it's young Bultitude!"
"What do you mean by cannoning into a
fellow like this?" said Coggs. "What are you up
to out here, eh?"
"If it comes to that," said Paul, casting about
for some explanation of his appearance, "what are
you up to here?"
"Why," said Chawner, "if you want to know,
Dick, we've been to fetch the 'St. James' Gazette'
for the Doctor. He said I might go if I liked,
and I asked for Coker and Coggs to come too;
because there was something I wanted to tell
them, very important, and I have told them,
haven't I, Corny?"
Coggs growled sulkily; Coker gave a tragic
groan, and said: "I don't care when you tell,
Chawner. Do it to-night if you like. Let's talk
about something else. Bultitude hasn't told us
yet how he came out here, after us?"
His last words suggested a pretext to Paul,
of which he hastened to make use. "Oh," he
THE RUBICON.
293
said, "I? I came out here, after you, to say that
Dr. Grimstone will not require the 'St. James'
Gazette.' He wants the 'Globe' and, ah, the
'Echo' instead."
It did not sound a very probable combination;
but Paul used the first names that occurred to
him, and, as it happened, aroused no suspicions,
for the boys read no newspapers.
"Well, we've got the other now," said Coker.
"We shall have to go back and get the fellow at
the bookstall to change it, I suppose. Come on,
you fellows 1"
This was at least a move in the right
direction; for the three began at once to retrace
their steps. But, unfortunately, all these ex¬
planations had taken time, and before they had
gone many yards Mr. Bultitude was horrified to
hear the station-bell ring loudly, and immediately
after a cloud of white steam rose above the station
roof as the London train clanked cumbrously in,
and was brought to with a prolonged screeching
of brakes.
The others were walking very slowly. At
the present pace it would be almost impossible
to reach the train in time. He looked round at
them anxiously. "H-hadn't we better run, don't
you think?" he asked.
"Runl" said Coker scornfully. "What for?
I'm not going to run. You can, if you like."
"Why, ah, really," said Paul briskly, very
grateful for the permission; "do you know, I think
I will 1"
294
VICE VERSA.
And run he did, with all his might, rushing
headlong through the gates, threading his way
between the omnibuses and under the Roman
noses of the mild fly-horses in the enclosure, until
at length he found himself inside the little booking-
office.
He was not too late; the train was still at
the platform, the engine getting up steam with a
dull roar. Rut he dared not risk detection by
travelling without a ticket. There was time for
that, too. No one was at the pigeonhole but one
old lady.
But, unhappily, the old lady considered taking
a ticket as a solemn rite to be performed with all due
caution and deliberation. She had already catechised
the clerk upon the number of stoppages during her
proposed journey, and exacted earnest assurances
from him that she would not be called upon to
change anywhere in the course of it; and as Paul
came up she was laying out the purchase-money
for her ticket upon the ledge and counting it,
which, the fare being high and the coins mostly
halfpence, seemed likely to take some time.
"One moment, ma'am, if you please," cried
Mr. Bultitude, panting and desperate. "I'm pressed
for time."
"Now you've gone and put me out, little
boy," said the old lady fussily. "I shall have to
begin all over again. Young man, will you take
and count the other end and see if it adds up
right? There's a halfpenny wrong somewhere; I
know there is."
THE RUBICON.
295
"Now then," shouted the guard from the
platform. "Any more going on?"
"I'm going on!" said Paul. "Wait for me.
First single to St. Pancras, quick!"
"Drat the boy!" said the old lady angrily.
"Do you think the world's to give way for you!
Such impidence! Mind your manners, little boy,
can't you! You've made me drop a threepenny
bit with your scrougingl"
"First single, five shillings," said the clerk,
jerking out the precious ticket.
"Right!" cried the guard at the same instant.
"Stand there, will you!"
Paul dashed towards the door of the booking-
office which led to the platform; but just as he
reached it a gate slammed in his face with a sharp
click, through the bars of it he saw, with hot eyes,
the tall, heavy carriages which had shelter and
safety in them jolt heavily past, till even the red
lamp in the last van was quenched in the darkness.
That miserable old woman had shattered his
hopes at the very moment of their fulfilment. It
was fate again!
As he stood, fiercely gripping the bars of the
gate, he heard Coggs' hateful voice again.
"Hallo! so you haven't got the 'Globe' and
the other thing after all, then; they've shut you
out?"
"Yes," said Mr. Pultitude in a hollow voice;
"they've shut me out!"
296
VICE VERSA.
CHAPTER. XVI.
HARD PRESSED.
Mark the poor wretch, to overshoot his trouble-,
How he outruns the wind, and with what care
He cranks and crosses with a thousand doubles:
The many musets through the which he goes
Are like a labyrinth to amaze his foes.
As soon as the gate was opened, Paul went through
mechanically with the others on the platform, and
waited at the bookstall while they changed the
paper. He knew well enough that what had seemed
at the time a stroke of transcendental cunning
would now only land him in fresh difficulties, if
indeed it did not lead to the detection of his
scheme. But he dared not interfere and prevent
them from making the unlucky exchange. Some¬
thing seemed to tie his tongue, and in sullen leaden
apathy he resigned himself to whatever might be
in store for him.
They passed out again by the booking-office.
There was the old lady still at the pigeon-hole,
trying to persuade the much enduring clerk to re¬
store a lucky sixpence she had given him by
mistake, and was quite unable to describe. Mr.
Bultitude would have given much just then to go
up and shake her into hysterics, or curse her
bitterly for the mischief she had done; but he re¬
frained, either from an innate chivalry, or from
HARD PRESSED.
2 97
a feeling that such an outburst would be ill-
judged.
So, silent and miserable, with slow step and
hanging head, he set out with his gaolers to
render himself up once more at his house of bond¬
age — a sort of involuntary Regulus, without the
oath.
"Dickie, you were very anxious to run just
now," observed Chawner, after they had gone some
distance on their homeward way.
"We were late for tea — late for tea," ex¬
plained Paul hastily.
"If you think the tea worth racing like that
for, I don't" said Coggs viciously; "it's muck."
"You don't catch me racing, except for some¬
thing worth having," said Coker.
One more flash of distinct inspiration came
to Paul's aid in the very depths of his gloom. It
was, in fact, a hazy recollection from English
history of the ruse by which Edward I., when a
prince, contrived to escape from his captors at
TJover Castle.
"Why—why," he said excitedly, "would you
race if you had something worth racing for, hey?
would you now?"
"Try us!" said Coker emphatically.
"What do you call 'something'?" inquired
Chawner suspiciously.
"Well," said Air. Bultitude; "what do you
say to a shilling?"
"You haven't got a shilling," objected Coggs.
"Here's a shilling, see," said Paul, producing
298
VICE VERSA.
one. "Now then, I'll give this to any boy I see
get into tea first!"
"Bultitude thinks he can run," said Coker>
with an amiable unbelief in any disinterestedness.
"He means to get in first and keep the shilling
himself, I know."
"I'll back myself to run him any day," put
in Coggs.
"So will I," added Chawner.
"Well, is it agreed?" Paul asked anxiously.
"Will you try?"
"All right," said Chawner, "You must give
us a start to the next lamp-post, though. You
stay here, and when we're ready we'll say 'off!"
They drew a line on the path with their feet
to mark Paul's starting point, and went on to
the next lamp. After a moment or two of anxious
waiting he heard Coggs shout, all in one breath,
"One-two-three-off!" and the sound of scampering
feet followed immediately.
It was a most exciting and hotly contested
race. Paul saw them for one brief moment in
the lamplight. He saw Chawner scudding down
the path like some great camel, and Coker squaring
his arms and working them as if they were wings.
Coggs seemed to be last.
He ran a little way himself just to encourage
them, but, as the sound of their feet grew fainter
and fainter, he felt that his last desperate ruse
had taken effect, and with a chuckle at his own
cleverness, turned round and ran his fastest in the
HARD PRESSED.
299
opposite direction. He felt little or no interest
in the result of the race.
Once more he entered the booking-office and,
kneeling on a chair, consulted the time-board that
hung on the wall over the sheaf of texts and the
missionary box.
The next train was not until 7.25. A whole
hour and twenty-five minutes to waitl What was
he to do? Where was he to pass the weary time
till then? If he lingered on the platform he would
assuredly be recaptured. His absence could not
remain long undiscovered; and the station would
be the first place they would search for him.
And yet he dared not wander away from
the neighbourhood of the station. If he kept to
the shops and lighted thoroughfares he might be
recognised or traced. If, on the other hand, he
went out farther into the country (which was ut¬
terly unknown to him) he had no watch, and it
would be only too easy to lose his way, or mis¬
calculate time and distance in the darkness.
To miss the next train would be absolutely
fatal.
He walked out upon the platform, and on
past the refreshment and waiting rooms, past the
weighing machine, the stacked trucks and the
lamp-room, meeting and seen by none—even the
boy at the bookstall was busy with bread and
butter and a mug of tea in a dark corner, and
never noticed him.
He went on to the end of the platform where
the planks sloped gently down to a wilderness of
3°°
VICE VERSA.
sheds, coaling stages and sidings; he could just
make out the bulky forms of some tarpaulined
cattle-vans and open coal-trucks standing on the
lines of metal which gleamed in the scanty gas¬
lights.
It struck him that one of these vans or trucks
would serve his purpose admirably, if he could
only get into it, and very cautiously he picked
his way over the clogging ballast and rails, till
he came to a low narrow strip of platform be¬
tween two sidings.
He mounted it and went on till he came to
the line of trucks and vans drawn up alongside;
the vans seemed all locked, but at the end he
found an empty coal-waggon in which he thought
he could manage to conceal himself and escape
pursuit till the longed-for 7.25 train should arrive
to relieve him.
He stepped in and lay down in one corner
of it, listening anxiously for any sound of search,
but hearing nothing more than the dismal dirge
of the telegraph wires overhead, he soon grew
cold and stiff, for his enforced attitude was far
from comfortable, and there was more coal-dust
in his chosen retreat than he could have wished.
Still it was secluded enough; it was not likely
that it would occur to anyone to look for him
there. Ten days ago Mr. Paul Bultitude would
have found it hard to conceive himself lying down
in a hard and grimy coaltruck to escape his son's
schoolmaster, but since then he had gone through
too much that was unprecedented and abnormal
HARD PRESSED.
301
to see much incongruity in his situation—it was
all too hideously real to be a nightmare.
But even here he was not allowed to remain
undisturbed; after about half an hour, when he
was beginning to feel almost secure, there came
a sharp twanging of wires beneath, and two short
strokes of a bell in the signal-box hard by.
He heard someone from the platform, pro¬
bably the station-master, shout, "Look alive, there,
Ing, Pickstones, some of you. There's those
three trucks on the A siding to go on to Slops-
bury by the 6.30 luggage—she'll be in in another
five minutes."
There were steps as if some persons were
coming out of a cabin opposite—they came nearer
and nearer: "These three, ain't it, Tommy?" said
a gruff voice, close to Paul's ear.
"That's it, mate," said another, evidently
Tommy's—"get 'em along up to the points there.
Can't have the 6.30 standing about on this 'ere
line all night 'cos of the Limited. Now then, all
together, shove! they've got the old 'orse on at
the other end."
And to Paul's alarm he felt the truck in
which he was begin to move ponderously on the
greasy metals, and strike the next with its buffers
with a jarring shock and a jangling of coupling
chains.
He could not stand this; unless he revealed
himself at once, or managed to get out of this
delusive waggon, the six-whatever-it-w'as train would
be up and carry him off to Slopsbury, a hundred
3°2
VICE VERSA.
miles or so farther from home; they would have time
to warn Dick—he would be expected—ambushes
laid for him, and his one chance would be gone
for ever!
There was a whistle far away on the down
line, and that humming vibration which announces
an approaching train: not a moment to lose—he
was afraid to attempt a leap from the moving
waggons, and resolved to risk all and show
himself.
With this intention he got upon his knees,
and putting his head above the dirty bulwark,
looked over and said softly, "Tommy, I say,
Tommy 1"
A porter, who had been laboriously employed
below, looked up with a white and scared face,
and staggered back several feet; Mr. Bultitude in
a sudden panic ducked again.
"Bill!" Paul heard the porter say hoarsely,
"I'll take my bible oath I've never touched a
drop this week, not to speak of—but I've got 'em
again, Bill, I've got em again!"
"Got what agin?" growled Bill. "What's the
matter now?"
"It's the jumps, Bill," gasped the other, "the
'orrors—they've got me and no mistake. As I'm
a livin' man, as I was a shovin' of that there
truck, I saw a imp—a gashly imp, Bill, stick its
hugly 'ed over the side and say, 'Tommy,' it ses,
jest like that—it ses, 'Tommy, I wants you!' [
dursn't go near it, Bill. ,1'H get leave, and go
'ome and lay up—it glared at me so 'orrid, Bill,
HARD PRESSED.
303
and grinned—ugh I I'll take the pledge after this
'ere, I will—I'll go to chapel Sundays reg'larl"
"Let's see if there ain't something there first,"
said the practical Bill. "Easy with the oss up
there. Now then," here he stepped on the box
of lhe wheel and looked in. "Shin out of this,
whatever y'are, we don't contrack to carry no
imps on this line—Well, if ever I — Tommy, old
man, it's all right, y'aint got 'em this time—'ere's
yer imp!"
And, reaching over, he hauled out the wretched
Paul by the scruff of his neck in a state of utter
collapse, and deposited him on the ground before
him.
"That ain't your private kerridge, yer know,
that ain't—there wasn't no bed made up there
for you, that I know on. You ain't arter no
good, now; you're a wagabone! that's about your
size, I can see—what d'yer mean by it, eh?"
"Shet yer 'ed, Bill, will yer," said Tommy,
whose relief probably softened his temper, "this
here's a young gent."
"Young gent, or no young gent," replied
Bill sententiously, "he's no call to go 'idin' in
our waggins and givin' 'ard-workin' men a turn.
'Old im tight, Tommy—here's the luggage down
on us."
Tommy held him fast with a grip of iron,
while the other porters coupled the trucks, and
the luggage train lumbered away with its load.
After this the men slouched up and stood
round their captive, staring at him curiously.
3°4
VICE VERSA.
"Look here, my men," said Paul, "I've run
away from school. I want to go on to town by
the next train, and I took the liberty of hiding
in the truck, because the schoolmaster will be up
here very soon to look for me—you understand?"
"I understand," said Bill, "and a nice young
party you are "
"I, I don't want to be caught," said Paul.
"Naterally," assented Tommy sympathetically.
"Well, can't you hide me somewhere where
he won't see me? Come, you can do that?"
"What do you say, Bill?" asked Tommy.
"What'll the Guvnor say?" said Bill dubiously.
"I've got a little money," urged Paul. "I'll
make it worth your while."
"Why didn't you say that afore?" said Bill;
"the Guv'nor needn't know."
"Here's half-a-sovereign between you," said
Paul, holding it out.
"That's something like a imp," said Tommy
warml) ; "if all bogeys acted as 'andsome as this
'ere, I don't care how often they shows theirselves.
We'll have a supper on this, mates, and drink
young Delirium Trimminses' jolly good 'ealth.
You come along <>' me, young shaver, I'll stow
you away right enough, and let you out when
yer train comes in."
He led Paul on to the platform again and
opened a sort of cupboard or closet. "That's
where we keeps the brooms and lamp-rags, and
them," he said; "it ain't what you may call tidy,
but if I lock you in no one won't trouble you."
HARD PRESSED.
305
It was perfectly dark, and the rags smelt
unpleasantly, but Mr. Bultitude was very glad of
this second ark of refuge, even though he did
bruise his legs over the broom-handles; he was
gladder still by-and-by, when he heard a rapid
heavy footfall outside, and a voice he knew only
too well, saying, "I want to see the station-master.
Ha, there he is. Good evening, station-master,
you know me—Dr. Grimstone, of Crichton House.
I want you to assist me in a very unpleasant
affair-—the fact is, one of my pupils has had the
folly and wickedness to run away."
"You don't say so!" said the station-master.
"It's only too true, I'm sorry to say; he
seemed happy and contented enough, too; it's a
black ungrateful business. But I must catch him,
you know; he must be about here somewhere, I
feel sure. You don't happen to have noticed a
boy who looked as if he belonged to me? They
can't tell me at the booking-office."
How glad Paul was now he had made no
inquiries of the station-master.
"No," said the latter, "I can't say I have,
sir, but some of my men may have come across
him. I'll inquire—here, Ing, I want you; this
gentleman here has lost one of his boys, have
you seen him?"
"What sort of a young gentleman was he to
look at?" Paul heard Tommy's voice ask.
"A bright intelligent-looking boy," said the
Doctor, "medium height, about thirteen, with
auburn hair."
V
30 6
VICE VERSA.
"No, I ain't seen no intelligent boys with
median 'eight," said Tommy slowly, "not least¬
ways, to speak to positive. What might he 'ave
on, now, besides his 'oburn 'air?"
"Black cloth jacket, with a wide collar," was
the answer; "grey trousers, and a cloth cap with
a leather peak."
"Oh," said Tommy, "then I see 'im."
" When — Where ?"
"'Bout arf an 'our since."
"Do you know where he is now?"
"Well," said Tommy, to Paul's intense horror,
for he was listening, quaking, to every word of
this conversation, which was held just outside his
cupboard door. "I dessay I could give a guess
if I give my mind to it."
"Out with it, Ing, now, if you know; no
tricks," said the station-master, who had apparently
just turned to go away. "Excuse me, sir, but
I've some things in there to see after."
When he had gone, the Doctor said rather
heatedly, "Come, you're keeping something from
me, I will have it out of you. If I find you have
deceived me, I'll write to the manager and get
you sent about your business—you'd better tell me
the truth."
"You see," said Tommy, very slowly and re¬
luctantly, "that young gent o' yourn was a gent."
"I tried my very best to render him so," said
the Doctor stiffly, "here is the result—how did you
discover he was one, pray?"
HARD PRESSED.
307
"'Cos he acted like a gent," said Tommy;
"he took and give me a 'arf-suffering."
"Well, I'll give you another," said the Doctor,
"if you can tell me where he is."
"Thankee, sir, don't you be afraid—you're a
gent right enough, too, though you do 'appen to
be a schoolmaster."
"Where is the unhappy boy?" interrupted the
Doctor.
"Seems as if I was a roundin' on 'im, like,
don't it a'most, sir?" said Tommy, with too evident
symptoms of yielding in his voice. Paul shook
so in his terror that he knocked down a broom
or two with a clatter, which froze his blood.
"Not at all," said the Doctor, "not at all,
my young fellow; you're—ahem—advancing the
cause of moral order."
"Oh, ah," said Tommy, obviously open to
conviction. "Well, if I'm a doin' all that, I can't
go fur wrong, can I? And arter all, we mayn't
like schools or schoolmasters, not over above, but
we can t get on without 'em, I s'pose. But, look
ye here, sir—if I goes and tells you where you
can get hold of this here boy, you won't go and
wallop him now, will ye?"
"I can make no bargains," said the Doctor;
"I shall act on my own discretion."
"That's it," said Tommy, unaccountably re¬
lieved, "spoke like a merciful Christian gen'leman;
if you don't go actin' 011 nothing more but your
discretion, you can't hurt him much, I take it
V*
5o8
VICE VERSA.
Well then, since you've spoke out fair, I don't
mind putting you on his track like."
If the door of the cupboard had not been
locked, Paul would undoubtedly have burst out
and yielded himself up, to escape the humiliation
of being sold like this by a mercenary and treach¬
erous porter. As it was, he had to wait till the
inevitable words should be spoken.
"Well, you see," went on Tommy, very slowly,
as if struggling with the remnants of a conscience,
"it was like this here — he comes up to me and
says — your young gen'leman, I mean — says he,
'Porter, I wants to 'ide, I've run away.' And I
says to him, says I, 'It's no use your 'anging
about 'ere,' I says, ' 'cause, if you do, your guv nor
(meanin' no offence to you, sir, '11 be comin' up
and ketchin' of you on the 'op.' 'Right you are,
porter,' says he to me, 'what do you advise?' he
says. 'Well,' I says, 'I don' know as I'm right
in givin' you no advice at all, havin' run away
from them as has the care on you,' I says; 'but
if I was a young gen'leman as didn't want to be
ketched, I should just walk on to Dufferton; it
ain't on'y three mile or so, and you'll 'ave time
for to do it before the up-train comes along there '
'Thankee, porter,' he says, 'I'll do that,' and away
he bolts, and for anything I know, he's 'arf way
there by this time."
"A fly!" shouted the Doctor excitedly, when
Tommy had come to the end of his veracious ac¬
count. "I'll catch the young rascal now—who has
a good horse? Davis, I'll take you. Five shillings
HARD PRESSED.
309
if you reach Dufferton before the up-train. Take
the
The rest was lost in the banging of the fly-
door and the rumble of wheels; the terrible man
had been got safely off on a wrong scent, and
Paul fell back amongst the lumber in his closet,
faint with the suspense and relief.
Presently he heard Tommy's chuckling whisper
through the keyhole; "Are you all right in there,
sir? he's safe enough now orf on a pretty dance.
You didn't think I was goin' to tell on ye, did
ye now? I ain't quite sech a cur as that comes
to, particular when a young gent saves me from
the 'orrors, and gives me a 'arf-sufifering. I'll see
you through, you make yourself easy about that."
Half an hour went slowly byr for Mr. Bultitude
in his darkness and solitude. The platform gra¬
dually filled, as he could tell by the tread of feet,
the voices, and the scent of cigars, and at last,
welcome sound, he heard the station bell ringing
for the up-train.
It ran in the next minute, shaking the cup¬
board in which Paul crouched, till the brushes
rattled. There was the usual blind hurry and con¬
fusion outside as it stopped. Paul waited im¬
patiently inside. The time passed, and still no
one came to let him out. He began to grow
alarmed. Could Tommy have forgotten him? Had
he been sent away by some evil chance at the
critical moment? Two or three times his excited
fancy heard the fatal whistle sound for departure.
Would he be left behind after all?
VICE VERSA.
But the next instant the door was noiselessly
unlocked. "Couldn't do it afore," said honest
Tommy. "Our guv'nor would have seen me.
Now's your time. Here's a empty first-class coach
I've kept for ye. In with you now."
He hoisted Paul up the high footboard to an
empty compartment, and shut the door, leaving
him to sink down on the luxurious cushions in
speechless and measureless content. But Tommy
had hardly done so before he reappeared and
looked in. "I say," he suggested, "if I was you,
I'd get under the seat before you gets to Duffer-
ton, otherways your guv'nor '11 be spottin' you.
I'll lock yoy in."
"I'll get under now; someone might see me
here," said Paul; and, too anxious for safety to
thank his preserver, he crawled under the low,
blue-cushioned seat, which left just room enough
for him to lie there in a very cramped and un¬
comfortable position. Still he need not stay there
after the train had once started, except for five
minutes or so at Dufferton.
Unfortunately he had not been long under
the seat before he heard two loud imperious voices
just outside the carriage door.
"Porter! guard! Hi, somebody! open this
door, will you; it's locked."
"This way, sir," he heard Tommy's voice say
outside. "Plenty of room higher up."
"I don't want to go higher up. I'll go here.
Just open it at once, I tell you."
The door was opened reluctantly, and two
HARD PRESSED.
311
middle-aged men came in. "Always take the
middle of a train," said the first. "Safest in any
accident, y'know. Never heard of a middle carriage
of a train getting smashed up, to speak of."
The other sat heavily down just over Paul,
with a comfortable grunt, and the train started;
Paul feeling naturally annoyed by this intrusion,
as it compelled him to remain in seclusion for the
whole of the journey. "Still," he thought, "it is
lucky that I had time to get under here before
they came in; it would have seemed odd if I had
done it afterwards." And he resigned himself to
the conversation which followed.
"What was it we were talking about just
now?" began the first. "Let me see. Ah! I
remember. Yes; it was a very painful thing—very,
indeed, I assure you."
There is a certain peculiar and uncomfortable
suspicion that attacks most of us at times, which
cannot fairly be set down wholly to self-consciousness
or an exaggerated idea of our own importance.
I mean the suspicion that a partly-heard conversation
must have ourselves for its subject. As often as
not, of course, it proves utterly unfounded, but
once in a way, like most presentiments, it finds
itself unpleasantly fulfilled.
Mr. Bultitude, though he failed to recognise
either of the voices, was somehow persuaded that
the conversation had something to do with himself,
and listened with eager attention.
"Yes," the speaker continued; "he was never,
according to what I hear, a man of any extra-
312
VICE VERSA.
ordinary capacity, but he was always spoken of as
a man of standing in the City, doing a safe
business, not a risky one, and so on, you know.
So, of course, his manner, when I called, shocked
me all the more."
"Ahl" said the other. "Was he violent or
insulting, then?"
"No, no! I can only describe his conduct as
eccentric—what one might call reprehensibly
eccentric and extravagant I didn't call exactly in
the way of business, but about a poor young
fellow in my house, who is, I fear, rather far gone
in consumption, and, knowing he was a Life
Governor, y'know, I thought he might give me a
letter for the hospital. Well, when I got up to
Mincing Lane
Paul started. It was as he had feared then;
they were speaking of him 1
"When I got there, I sent in my card with
a message that, if he was engaged or anything, I
would take the liberty of calling at his private
house, and so on. But they said he would see me.
The clerk who showed me in said: 'You'll find
him a good deal changed, if you knew him, sir.
We're very uneasy about him, here,' which
prepared me for something out of the common.
Well, I went into a sort of inner room, and there
he was, in his shirt-sleeves, busy over some
abomination he was cooking at the stove, with the
office-boy helping him! I never was so taken
aback in my life. I said something about calling
another time, but Bultitude "
HARD PRESSED.
313
Paul groaned. The blow had fallen. Well,
it was better to be prepared and know the worst.
"Bultitude says, just like a great awkward
schoolboy, y'know, 'What's your name? How
d'ye do? Have some hardbake, it's just done?'
Fancy finding a man in his position cooking toffee
in the middle of the day, and offering it to a
perfect stranger!"
"Softening of the brain—must be," said the
other.
"I fear so. Well, he asked what I wanted,
and I told him, and he actually said he never did
any business now, except sign his name where his
clerks told him. He'd worked hard all his life,
he said, and he was tired of it. Business was,
I understood him to say, 'all rot!'
"Then he wouldn't promise me votes or give
me a letter or anything, without consulting his
head clerk; he seemed to know nothing whatever
about it himself, and when that was over, he
asked me a quantity of frivolous questions which
appeared to have a sort of catch in them, as far
as I could gather, and he was exceedingly angry
when I wouldn't humour him."
"What kind of questions?"
"Well, really I hardly know. I believe he
wanted to know whether 1 had rather be a bigger
fool than I looked or look a bigger fool than I
was, and he pressed me quite earnestly to repeat
some foolishness after him, about 'being a gold
key,' when he said 'he was a gold lock.' I was
3'4
VICE VERSA.
very glad to get away from him, it was so
distressing."
"They tell me he has begun to speculate, too,
lately," said the other. "You see his name about
in some very queer things. It's a very pitiful
affair altogether."
Paul writhed under his seat with shame. How
could he, even if he succeeded in ousting Dick
and getting back his old self, how could he ever
hold up Ins head again after this?
Why, Dick must be mad. Even a schoolboy
would have had more caution when so much
depended on it. Put none would suspect the real
cause of the change. These horrible tales were
no doubt being circulated everywhere!
The conversation fell back into a less personal
channel again after this; they talked of "risks," of
someone who had only been "writing" a year and
was doing seven thousand a week, of losses they
had been "on," and of the uselessness of "writing
five hundred on everything," and while at this
point the train slackened and stopped—they had
reached Dufferton.
There was an opening of doors all along the
train, and sounds as of some inquiry and answer
at each. The voices became audible at length,
and, as he had expected, Paul found that the
Doctor, not having discovered him on the platform,
was making a systematic search of the train,
evidently believing that he had managed to slip in
somewhere unobserved.
It was a horrible moment when the door of
IIARI) PRESSED.
315
his compartment was flung open and a stream of
ice-cold air rushed under the blue cloth which,
fortunately for Paul, hung down almost to the
floor.
Someone held a lantern up outside, and by
its rays Paul saw from behind the hanging the
upper half of Dr. Grimstone appear, very pale and
polite, at the doorway, hie remained there for
some moments without speaking, carefully
examining every corner of the compartment.
The two men on the seats drew their wraps
about them and shivered, until at length one said
rather testily—"Get in, sir; kindly get in if you're
coming on, please. This draught is most un¬
pleasant!"
"1 do not propose to travel by this train,
sir," said the Doctor; "but as a person entrusted
with the care of youth, permit me to inquire
whether you have seen (or it may be assisted
to conceal) a small boy of an intelligent appear¬
ance "
"Why should we conceal small boys of in¬
telligent appearance about us, pray?" demanded
the man who had described his visit to Mincing
Lane. "And may we ask you to shut that door,
and make any communications you wish to
make through the window, or else come in and
sit down?"
"That's not an answer to my question, sir,"
retorted the Doctor. "I notice you carefully de¬
cline to say whether you have seen a boy. I
consider your manner suspicious, sir; and I shall
3*6
VICE VERSA.
insist on searching this carriage through and through
till I find that boy!"
Mr. Bultitude rolled himself up close against
the partition at these awful words.
"Guard, guard!" shouted the first gentleman.
"Come here. Here's a violent person who will
search this carriage for something he has lost. I
won't be inconvenienced in this way without any
reason whatever! He says we're hiding a boy
in here!"
"Guard!" said the Doctor, quite as angrily,
"I insist upon looking under these seats before
you start the train. I've looked through every
carriage and he must be in here. Gentlemen, let
me pass, I'll get him if I have to travel in this
compartment to town with you!"
"For peace and quietness sake, gentlemen,"
said the guard, "let him look round, just to ease
his mind. Lend me your stick a minute, sir,
please. I'll turn him out if he's anywhere about
this here compartment!"
And with this he pulled Dr. Grimstone down
from the footboard and mounted it himself; after
which he began to rummage about undtr the seats
with the Doctor's heavy stick.
Every lunge found out some tender part in
Mr. Bultitude's person and caused him exquisite
torture; but he clenched his teeth hard to prevent
a sound, while he thought each fresh dig must
betray his whereabouts.
"There," said the guard at last; "there really
ain't no one there, sir, you see. I've felt every-
HARD PRESSED.
317
where and—Hello, I certainly did feel something
just then, gentlemen!" he added, in an undertone,
after a lunge which took all the breath out of
Paul's body. All was lost now!
"You touch that again with that confounded
stick if you dare!" said one of the passengers.
"That's a parcel of mine. I won't have you
poking holes through it in that way. Don't tell
that lunatic behind you, he'll be wanting it opened
to see if his boy's inside! Now perhaps you'll let
us alone!"
"Well, sir," said the guard at last to the
Doctor, as he withdrew, "he ain't in there. There's
nothing under any of the seats. Your boy '11 be
comin' on by the next train, most likely—the 8.40.
We're all behind. Right!"
"Good night, sir," said the first passenger as
he leant out of the window, to the baffled school¬
master on the platform. "You've put us to all this
inconvenience for nothing, and in the most offen¬
sive way too. I hope you won't find your boy till
you're in a better temper, for his sake."
"If I had you out on this platform, sir,"
shouted the angry Doctor, "I'd horsewhip you for
that insult. I believe the boy's there and you know
it. I—"
But the train swept off and, to Paul's joy and
thankfulness, soon left the Doctor, gesticulating
and threatening, miles behind it.
"What a violent fellow for a schoolmaster,
eh:" siid one of Paul's companions, when they
were fairly off again. "I wasn't going to have
VICE VERSA.
him turning the cushions inside out here; we
shouldn't have settled down again before we
got in 1"
"No; and if the guard hasn't, as it is, injured
that Indian shawl in my parcel. I shall be
Why, bless my soul, that parcel's not under the
seat after all! It's up in the rack. I remember
putting it there now."
"The guard must have fancied he felt some¬
thing; and yet- Look here, Goldicutt; just feel
under here with your foot. It certainly does seem
as if something soft was—eh?"
Mr. Goldicutt accordingly explored Paul's ribs
with his boot for some moments, which was very
painful.
"Upon my word," he said at last, "it really
does seem very like it It's not hard enough for
a bag or a hat-box. It yields 'distinctly when you
kick it. Can you fetch it out with your umbrella
do you think ? Shall we tell the guard at the
next—? Lord, it's coming out of its own ac¬
cord. It's a dog! No, my stars—it's the boy,
after alll"
For Paul, alarmed at the suggestion about the
guard, once more felt inclined to risk the worst
and reveal himself. Begrimed with coal, smeared
with whitewash, and covered with dust and flue,
he crawled slowly out and gazed imploringly up
at his fellow-passengers.
After the first shock of surprise they lay back
in their seats and laughed till they cried.
"Why, you young rascal!" they said, when
HARD PRESSED.
319
they recovered breath, "you don't mean to say
you've been under there the whole time?"
"I have indeed," said Paul. "I—I didn't like
to come out before."
"And are you the boy all this fuss was
about? Yes? And we kept the schoolmaster off
without knowing it! Why, this is splendid, ca¬
pital! You're something like a boy, you little
dog, you! This is the best joke I've heard for
many a day!"
"I hope," said Paul, "I haven't inconvenienced
you. I could not help it, really."
"Inconvenienced us? Gad, your schoolmaster
came very near inconveniencing us and you too.
But there, he won't trouble any of us now. To
think of our swearing by all our gods there was
no boy in here, and vowing he shouldn't come
in, while you were lying down there under the
seat all the time! Why, it's lovely! The boy's
got pluck and manners too. Shake hands, young
gentleman, you owe us no apologies. I haven't
had such a laugh for many a day!"
"Then you—you won't give me up?" faltered
poor Paul.
"Well," said the one who was called Goldicutt,
and who was a jovial old gentleman with a pink
face and white whiskers, "we're not exactly going
to take the trouble of getting out at the next
station, and bringing you back to Dufferton, just
to oblige that hot-tempered master of yours, you
know, he hasn't been so particularly civil as to
deserve that."
320
VICE VERSA.
"But if he were to telegraph and get someone
to stop me at St. Pancras?" said Paul nervously.
"Ah, he might do that, to be sure—sharp
boy this—well, as we've gone so far, I suppose
we must go through with the business now and
smuggle the young scamp past the detectives, eh,
Travers?"
The younger man addressed assented readily
enough, for the Doctor had been so unfortunate
as to prejudice them both from the first by his
unjustifiable suspicions, and it is to be feared they
had no scruples in helping to outwit him.
Then they noticed the pitiable state Mr.
Bultitude was in, and he had to give them a fair
account of his escape and subsequent adventures,
at which even their sympathy could not restrain
delighted shouts of laughter—though Paul himself
saw little enough in it all to laugh at; they asked
his name, which he thought more prudent, for
various reasons, to give as "Jones," and other
details, which I am afraid he invented as he went
on, and altogether they reached Kentish Town in
a state of high satisfaction with themselves and
their protege.
At Kentish Town there was one more danger
to be encountered, for with the ticket collector
there appeared one of the station inspectors.
"Beg pardon, gentlemen," said the latter, peering
curiously in, "but does that young gent in the
corner happen to belong to either of you?"
The white-whiskered gentleman seemed a
little flustered at this downright inquiry, but the
HARD PRESSED.
321
other was more equal to the occasion. "Do you
hear that, Johnny, my boy," he said, to Paul
(whom they had managed during the journey to
brush and scrape into something approaching
respectability), "they want to know if you belong
to me. I suppose you'll allow a son to belong to
his father to a certain extent, eh?" he asked the
inspector.
The man apologised for what he conceived
to be a mistake. "We've orders to look out for
a young gent about the size of yours, sir," he
explained; "110 offence meant, I'm sure," and he
went away satisfied.
A very few minutes more and the train rolled
into the terminus, under the same wide arch
beneath which Paul had stood, helpless and be¬
wildered, a week ago.
"Now my advice to you, young man," said
Mr. Goldicutt, as he put Paul into a cab, and
pressed half-a-sovereign into his unwilling hand,
"is to go straight home to Papa and tell him all
about it. I daresay he won't be very hard on
you—here's my card, refer him to me if you
like. Good-night, my boy, good-night, and good
luck to you. Gad, the best joke I've had for
I "
years!
And the cab rolled away, leaving them
standing chuckling on the platform, and, as Paul
found himself plunging once more into the welcome
roar and rattle of London streets, he forgot the
difficulties and dangers that might yet lie before
him in the thought that at last he was beyond
\V
322
VICE VERSA.
the frontier, and, for the first time since he had
slipped through the playground gate, he breathed
freely.
CHAPTER XVII.
A PERFIDIOUS ALLY.
But homeward hone what home? had he a home'
His home lie walk'd;
Then clown the long street having slowly stolen,
His heart foreshadowing all calamity.
His e>es upon the stone*, he reached his home.
PAUL had been careful, whilst in the hearing of
his friends, to give the cabman a fictitious address,
but as soon as he reached the Pluston Road, he
stopped the man and ordered him *o put him
down at the church near the south end of West-
bourne Terrace, for he dared not drive up openly
to his own door.
At last he found himself standing safely on
the pavement, looking down the long line of
yellow lamps of his own terrace, only a few
hundred yards from ho tie.
Put though his purpose was now within easy
reach, his spirits were far from high; his anxiety
had returned with tenfold power; he felt no
eagerness or exultation, on the contrary, the task
he had set himself had never before seemed so
hopeless, so insurmountable.
A PERFIDIOUS ALLY.
323
He stood for some time by the railing of the
church, which was lighted up for evening service,
listening blankly to the solemn drone of the
organ within, unable to summon up resolution to
move from the spot and present himself to his
unsuspecting family.
It was a cold night, with a howling wind,
and high in the blue black sky fleecy white clouds
were coursing swiftly along; he obliged himself
to set out at last, and walked down the flags
toward his house, shivering as much from ner-
vousnesss as cold.
There was a dance somewhere in the terrace
that evening, a large one; as far as he could see
there were close ranks of carriages with blazing
lamps, and he even fancied he could hear the
shouts of the link-boys and the whistles of the
commissionaires.
As he came nearer, he had a hideous suspi¬
cion, which soon became a certainty, that the
entertainment was at his own house; worse still,
it was of a kind and on a scale calculated to
shock and horrify any prudent householder and
father of a family.
The balcony above the portico was positively
hung with gaudy Chinese lanterns, and there were
even some strange sticks and shapes up in one
corner that looked suspiciously like fireworks.
Fireworks in Westbourne Teirace! What would
the neighbours think or do?
Between the wall which separates the main
road from the terrace and the street front there
w*
324
VICE VERSA.
were no less than four piano-organs, playing, it
is to be feared, by express invitation; and there
was the usual crowd of idlers and loungers standing
about by the awning stretched over the portico,
listening to the music and loud laughter which
came from the brilliantly lighted upper rooms.
Paul remembered then, too late, that Barbara
in that memorable letter of hers had mentioned
a grand children's party as being in contemplation.
Dick had held his tongue about it that morning;
and he himself had not thought it was to be so
soon.
For an instant he felt almost inclined to turn
away and give the whole thing up in sick despair
—even to return to Rodwell Regis and brave the
Doctor's anger; for how could he hope to explain
matters to his family and servants, or get the
Garuda Stone safely into his hands again before
all these guests, in the whirl and tumult of an
evening party?
And yet he dared not, after all, go back to
Crichton House—that was too terrible an alter¬
native, and he obviously could not roam the world
to any extent, a runaway schoolboy to all ap¬
pearance, and with less than a sovereign in his
pocket 1
After a short struggle, he felt he must make
his way in, watch and wait, and leave the rest
to chance. It was his evil fate, after all, that-
had led him on to make his escape on this night
of all others, and had allowed him to come
through so much, only to be met with these un-
A PERFIDIOUS ALLY.
325
foreseen complications just when he might have
imagined the worst was over.
He forced his way through the staring crowd,
and went down the steps into the area; for he
naturally shrank from braving the front door, with
its crowd of footmen and hired waiters.
He found the door in the basement open,
which was fortunate, and slipped quietly through
the pantry, intending to reach the hall by the
kitchen stairs. But here another check met him.
The glass door which led to the stairs happened
to be shut, and he heard voices in the kitchen,
which convinced him that if he wished to escape
notice he must wait quietly in the darkness until
the door was opened for him, whenever that
might be.
The door from the pantry to the kitchen
was partly open, however, and Mr. Bultitude could
not avoid hearing everything that passed there,
although every fresh word added to his uneasiness,
until at last he would have given worlds to escape
from his involuntary position of eavesdropper.
There were only two persons just then in
the kitchen: his cook, who, still in her working
dress, was refreshing herself after her labours over
the supper with a journal of some sort, and the
housemaid, who, in neat gala costume, was en¬
gaged in fastening a bow more securely in her
mob-cap.
"They haven't give me a answer yet, Eliza,"
said the cook, looking up from her paper.
I
326
VICE VERSA.
"Lor, cook!" said Eliza, "you couldn't hardly
expect it, seeing you only wrote on Friday."
"No more I did, Eliza. You see it on'y be¬
gan to come into my mind sudden like this last
week. I'm sure I no more dreamt . But
they've answered a lady who's bin in much the
same situation as me aperiently. You just 'ark
to this a minute." And she proceeded to read
from her paper: Lady Bird.—You ask us f 1 >
what are the signs by which you may recognise
the first dawnings oi your lover's affection. On
so delicate a matter we are naturally averse from
advising you; your own heart must be your best
guide. But perhaps we may mention a few of
the most usual and infallible symptoms' —What
sort of a thing is a symptim, Eliza r"
"A symptim, cook," explained Eliza, "is a
somethink wrong with the inside. Her at my
last place in Cadog in Square had them uncommon
bad. She was what the}' call aisthetical, pore
young thing. Them infallible ones are always the
worst."
"It don't seem to make sense though, Eliza,"
objected cook doubtfull}. "Hear how it goes on:
Infallible symptoms. It you have truly inspired
him with a genuine and lasting passion' idon't
he write beautiful?! 'passion, he will continually
haunt those places in which you are most likely
to be found' (I couldn't tell you the times
master's bin down in my hitching this last week);
'he will appear awkward and constrained in your
presence' 1 anything more awkward than master
A FERF1DI0US ALLY.
32 7
1 never set eyes on. He's knocked down one of
the best porcelain vegetables this very afternoon!)
'lie will beg lor any little favours, some trifle, it
ma)' be, made by your own hand' (master's al¬
ways a-asking if I've got an)- of those doughnuts
to give away); 'and, if granted, he wili treasure
them in secret with pride and rapture' (I don't
think master kep' any ot them doughnuts though,
Eliza. I saw him swaller five; but you couldn't
treasure a doughnut, not to mention I'll make
lnm a pincushion when I've time, and see what
he dots with it). 'If you detect all these indi¬
cations of liking in the person you suspect of
paying his addresses to you, you may safely
reckon upon bringing him to your leet in a very
short space of time. (2) Yes, Fullers' earth will
make them exquisitely white.'"
"There, Eliza!" said cook, with some pride,
when she had finished; "if it had been meant for
me it couldn't have been clearer. Ain't it written
nice? And on'y to think of my bringing master
to my feet. It seems almost too much for a cook
to expect!"
"1 wouldn't say so, cook; I wouldn't. Have
some proper pride. Don't let him think he's only
to ask and have! Why, in the 'Eondon Journal'
last week there was a ('look as married a governess;
and 1 should 'ope as a cook ranked above a go¬
verness. Nor yet master ain't a dook; he's only
in the City! But are you sure he's not a-trifling
with your affections, cook? He's bin very affable
and pleasant with all of us lately. "
328
VICE VERSA.
"It ain't for me to speak too positive, Eliza,"
said cook, almost bashfully, "nor to lay bare the
feelings of a bosom, beyond what's right and
proper. You're young yet , Eliza, and don't un¬
derstand these things — leastways, it's to be hoped
not (Eliza having apparently tossed her head); but
do you remember that afternoon last week as
master stayed at home a-playin' games with the
children? I was a-goin' upstairs to fetch my
thimble, and there, on the bedroom landing was
master all alone, with one of Master Dick's toy-
guns in his 'and, and a old slouch 'at on his head.
" 'Have you got a pass, cook?' he says, and
my 'art came right up into my mouth, he looked
that severe and lofty at me. I thought he was
put out about somethink.
"I said I didn't know as it was required, but
I could get one, I says, not knowing what he
was alludin' to all the same.
"But he says, quite soft and tender-like ihere
Paul shivered with shame , 'No, you needn't do
that, cook, there ain't any occasion for it; only,'
he says, 'if you haven't got no pass, you'll have
to give me a kiss, you know, cook!' I thought I
should have sunk through the stairs, I was that
overcome. I saw through his rouge with half
an eye."
"Why, he said the same to me," said Eliza,
"only I had a pass, as luck had it, which Miss
Barbara give me. I'd ha' boxed his ears if he'd
tried it, too, master or no master!"
"You talk light, Eliza," said the cook senti-
A PERFIDIOUS ALLY.
329
mentally, "but you weren't there to see. It wasn't
only the words, it was the way he said it, and
the 'ug he gave me at the time. It was as good
as a proposial. And, I tell you, whatever you
may say—and mark my words — I ave 'opes!"
"Then, if I was you, cook," said Eliza," "I'd try
if I could get him to speak out plain in writing;
then, whatever came of it, there'd be as good as
- five hundred pounds in your pockets."
"Love-letters 1" cried the cook, "why, if that's
all, Lord love you, Eliza- Why, William, how
you made me jump! I thought you was up seein'
to the supper table."
"The pastrycook's man is looking after all
that, Jane," said Boaler's voice. "I've been up
outside the droring-room all this time, lookin' at
the games goin' on in there. It's as good as a
play to see the way as master is a unbend in' of him¬
self, and such a out and out stiff-un as he used
to be, too! But it ain't what I like to see in a
respectable house. I'm glad I give warning. It
doesn't do for a man in my position to com¬
promise his character by such goings on I never
see anything like it in any families I lived with
before. Just come up and see for yourself. You
needn't mind about cleanin' of yourself—they won't
see you."
So the cook allowed herself to be persuaded
by Boaler, and the two went up to the hall, and,
to y.r 1'ultitude's intense relief, forgot to close
the glazed door which cut him off from the
staircase.
33°
VICE VERSA.
As he followed them upstairs at a cautious
interval, and thought over what he had just so
unwillingly overheard, he felt as one who had just
been subjected to a moral showerbath. "That
dreadful woman!" he groaned. "Who would get
such horrible ideas into her head? 1 shall never
be able to look either of those women in the face
again: they will both have to go—and she made
such excellent soup, too. 1 do hope that miser¬
able Dick has not been fool enough to write to
her—but no, that's too absurd."
But more than ever he began to wish that
he had stayed in the playground.
When he reached the hall he stood there for
some moments in anxious deliberation over his
best course of proceeding. His main idea was to
lie in wait somewhere for Dick, and try the result
of an appeal to his better feelings to acknowledge
his outcast parent and abdicate gracefully.
If that failed, and there was ever}- reason to
expect that it would fail, he must threaten to
denounce him before the whole party. It would
cause a considerable scandal no doubt, and be a
painful thing to his own feelings, but still he must
do it, or frighten Dick by threataning to do it,
and at all hazards he must contrive during the
interview to snatch or purloin the magic stone;
without that he was practically helpless.
He looked round him; the stud}' was piled
up with small boys' hats and coats, and in one
corner was a kind of refined bar, where till lately
a trim housemaid had been dispensing coffee and
A PERFIDIOUS ALLY.
331
weak lemonade; she might return at an)' moment,
he would not be safe there.
Nor would the dining-room be more secluded,
for in it there was an elaborate supper being laid
out by the waiters which, as far as he could see
through the crack in the door, consisted chiefly
of lobsters, trifle, and pink champagne. He felt
a grim joy at the sight, more than he would suffer
for this night's festivities.
As he stole about, with a dismal sense of the
unfitness of his sneaking about his own house in
this guilty fashion, he became gradually aware of
the scent of a fine cigar, one of his own special
Cabanas. He wondered \\ ho had the impudence
to trespass on his cigar-chest; it could hardly be
one of the children.
He traced the scent to a billiard-room which
he had built out at the side of the house, which
was a corner one, and going down to the door
opened it sharply and walked in.
Comfortably imbedded in the depths of a long
well-padded lounging chair, with a spirit case and
two or three bottles of soda water at his elbow,
sat a man who was lazily glancing through the
"Field" with his feet resting 011 the mantel-piece,
one 011 each side of the blazing fire. He was a man
of about the middle size, with a face rather bronzed
and reddened by climate, a nose slightly aquiline
and higher in colour, quick black eyes with an
uneasy glance in them, bushy black whiskers, more
like the antiquated "Dundreary" type than modern
fashion permits, and a wide flexible mouth.
332
VICE VERSA.
Paul knew him at once, though he had not seen
him for some years; it was Paradine, his disreputable
brother-in-law—the "Uncle Marmaduke" who, by
importing the mysterious Garuda Stone, had brought
all these woes upon him; he noticed at once that
his appearance was unusually prosperous, and that
the velvet smoking coat he wore over his evening
dress was new and handsome. "No wonder," he
thought bitterly, "the fellow has been living on
me for a week!" He stood by the cue-rack look¬
ing at him for some time, and then he said with
a cold ironic dignity that (if he had known it)
came oddly from his boyish lips: "I hope you are
making yourself quite comfortable?"
Marmaduke put down his cigar and stared:
"Uncommonly attentive and polite of you to in¬
quire," he said at last, with a dubious smile, which
showed a row of very white teeth, "whoever you
are. If it will relieve your mind at all to know,
young man, I'm happy to say I am tolerably
comfortable, thanks."
"I, I concluded as much," said Paul, nearly
choked with rage.
"You've been very nicely brought up," said
Uncle Marmaduke, "I can see that at a glance.
So you've come in here, like me, eh? because the
children bore you, and you want a quiet gossip
over the world in general? Sit down then, take
a cigar, if you don't think it will make you very
unwell. I shouldn't recommend it myself, you
know, before supper—but you're a man of the
world and know what's good for you. Come along,
A PERFIDIOUS ALLY.
333
enjoy yourself till you find yourself getting quetr
—then drop it."
Mr. Bultitude had always detested the man—
there was an underbred swagger and familiarity in
his manner that made him indescribably offensive;
just now he seemed detestable, and yet Paul by
a strong effort succeeded in controlling his temper.
Me could not afford to make enemies just
then, and objectionable as the man was, his as¬
tuteness made him a valuable ally; he deter¬
mined, without considering the risk of making
such a confidant, to tell him all and ask his ad¬
vice and help.
"Don't you know me, Paradine?"
"I don't think I have the privilege—you're
one of Miss Barbara's numerous young friends, I
suppose? and yet, now I look at you, you don't
seem to be exactly got up for an evening party,
there's something in your voice, too, I ought to
know."
"You ought," said Paul, with a gulp. "My
name is Paul Bultitude!"
"To be sure!" cried Marmaduke. "By Jove,
then, you're my young nephew, don't you know;
I'm your long-lost uncle, my boy, I am indeed
(Pll excuse you from coming to my arms, how¬
ever; I never was good at family embraces). But,
I say, you little rascal, you've never been asked
to these festivities, you ought to be miles away,
fast asleep in your bed at school. What in the
name of wonder are you doing here?"
"Pve — left school," said Paul.
334
VICE VERSA.
"So I perceive, sulky because they left you
out of all this, eh? Thought you'd turn up in
the middle of the banquet, like the spectre bride¬
groom— 'the worms they crawled in, and the
worms they crawled out, eh?' Well, I like your
pluck, but, ahem—I'm afraid you'll find they've
rather an unpleasant way of laying your kind of
apparitions."
"Never mind about that," said Paul hurriedly;
"I have something I must tell you —I've no time
to lose—I'm a desperate man!"
"You are," Paradine assented with a loud
laugh, "oh, you are indeed! 'a desperate man.'
Capital! a stern chase, eh? the schoolmaster close
behind with the birch? It's quite exciting, you
know, but, seriously, I'm very much afraid, you'll
catch it!"
"If," began Mr. Bultitude in great embarrass¬
ment, "if I was to tell you that I was not myself
at all—but somebody else, a in fact, an entirely
different person from what I seem to you to be—
I suppose you would laugh?"
"I beg your pardon," said his brother-in-law
politely, "I don't think I quite catch the idea?"
"When I assure you now, solemnly, as I stand
here before you, that I am not the miserable boy
whose form I am condemned to—to wear, you'll
suv it is incredible?"
"Not at all—by no means, I quite believe
you. Only really it's a mere detail), but I should
rather like to know, if you're not that particular
A PERFIDIOUS ALLY.
335
boy, what other boy you may happen to be?
You'll forgive my curiosity."
"I'm not a boy at all—I'm your own un¬
happy brother-in-law, Paul! You don't believe me,
I see?"
"Oh, pardon me, it's perfectly clear 1 you're
not your own son, but your own father—it's a
little confusing at first, but no doubt common
enough. I'm glad you mentioned it, though."
"Go on," said Paul bitterly, "make light of
it — you fancy you are being very clever, but you
will find out the truth in time!"
"Not without external assistance, I'm afraid,"
said Paradine calmly. "A more awful little liar
for your age I never saw—don't you think you
can lie pretty well yourself?"
"I'm tired of this," said Paul. "Only listen
to reason and common sense!"
"Only give me a chance."
"I tell you," protested Paul earnestly, "it's
the sober, awful truth—I'm not a boy, it's years
since I was a boy—I'm a middle-aged man, thrust
into this, this humiliating form!"
"Don't say that," murmured the other; "it's
an excellent fit—very becoming, I assure you."
"Do you want to drive me mad with your
clumsy jeers?" cried Paul. "Look at me. Do I
speak, do I behave, like an ordinary schoolboy?"
"I really hope not—for the sake of the rising
generation," said Uncle Marmaduke, chuckling at
his own powers of repartee.
"You are very jaunty to-day—you look as if
33*5
VICE VERSA.
you were well off," said Paul slowly. "I remember
a time when a certain bill was presented to me,
drawn by you, and appearing to be accepted
(long before I ever saw it by me. I consented
to meet it for my poor Maria's sake, and because
to disown my signature would have ruined you
for life. Do you remember how you went down
on your knees in my private room and swore you
would reform and be a credit to your family yet?
You weren't quite so well off, or so jaunty then,
unless I am very much mistaken."
These words had an extraordinary effect
upon Uncle Marmaduke; he turned ash)" white,
and his quick eyes shifted restlessly as he half
rose from his chair and threw away his unfinished
cigar.
"You young hound!" he said, breathing hard
and speaking under his breath. "How did you
get hold of that—that lying story? Your father
must have let it out! Why do you bring up
bygones like this? You—you're a confounded,
disagreeable little prig! Who told you to play
an ill-natured trick of this sort on an uncle, who
ma)- have been wild and reckless in his youth—
was in fact but who never, never misused his
relation towards you as—as an uncle?"
"How did I get hold of the story?" said
Paul, observing the impression he had made. "Do
you think if I were really a boy of thirteen I
should know as much about you as I do? Do
you want to know more? Ask, if you darel
Shall I tell you how it was you left your army
A PERFIDIOUS ALLY.
337
coach without going up for examination ? Will
you have the story of your career in my old
friend Parkinson's counting-house, or the real
reason of your trip to New York, or what it was
that made your father add that codicil, cutting
you off with a set of engravings of the 'Rake's
Progress,' and a guinea to pay for framing them?
I can tell you all about it, if you care to hear."
"No!" shrieked Paradine, "I won't listen. When
you grow up, ask your father to buy you a
Society journal. You're cut out for an editor of
one. It doesn't interest me."
"Do you believe my story or not?" asked
Paul.
"I don't know. Who could believe it?" said
the other sullenly. "How can you possibly account
for it?"
"Do you remember giving Maria a little
sandal-wood box with a small stone in it?" said
Paul.
"I have some recollection of giving her
something of that kind. A curiosity, wasn't it?"
"I wish I had never seen it. That infernal
stone, Paradine, has done all this to me. Did no
one tell you it was supposed to have any magic
power?"
"Why, now I think of it, that old black
rascal, Bindabun Doss, did try to humbug me
with some such story; said it was believed to be
a talisman, but the secret wis lost. I thought
it was just his stingy way of trying to make the
X
338
VICE VERSA.
rubbish out as something priceless, as it ought
to have been, considering all I did for the old
ruffian."
"You told Maria it was a talisman. Bindabun
what's-his-name was right. It is a talisman of
the deadliest sort. I'll soon convince you, if you
will only hear me out."
And then, in whitehot wrath and indignation,
Mr. Bultitude began to tell the story I have
already attempted to sketch here, dwelling bitterly
on Dick's heartless selfishness and cruelty, and
piteously on his own incredible sufferings, while
Uncle Marmaduke, lolling back in his armchair
with an attempt (which was soon abandoned) to
retain a smile of amused scepticism on his face,
heard him out in complete silence and with all
due gravity.
Indeed, Paul's manner left him no room for
further unbelief. His tale, wild and improbable
as it was, was too consistent and elaborate for
any schoolboy to have invented, and, besides,
the imposture would have been so entirely pur¬
poseless.
When his brother-in-law had come to the
end of his sad history, Paradine was silent for
some time. It was some relief to know that the
darkest secrets of his life had not been ferreted
out by a phenomenally sharp nephew; but the
change in the situation was not without its draw¬
backs—it remained to be seen how it might affect
himself. He already saw his reign in Westbourne
A PERFIDIOUS ALLY.
339
Terrace threatened with a speedy determination,
unless he played his cards well.
"Well," he said at last, with a swift, keen
glance at Paul, who sat anxiously waiting for his
next words; "suppose I were to say that I think
there may be something in this story of yours,
what then ? What is it you want me to do for
?n
_
"Why," said Paul, "with all you owe to me,
now you know the horrible injustice I have had
to bear, you surely don't mean to say that you
won't help me to right myself?"
"And if I did help you, what then?"
"Why, I should be able to recover all I have
lost, of course," said Mr. Bultitude. He thought
this brother-in-law had grown very dull.
"Ah, but I mean, what's to become of me?"
"You?" repeated Paul (he had not thought of
that). "Well, hum, from what I know and what
you know that I know about your past life, you
can't expect me to encourage you to remain
here?"
"No," said Uncle Marmaduke. "Of course
not; very right and proper."
"But," said Paul, willing to make all reasonable
concessions, "anything I can do to advance your
prospects —such as paying your passage out to
New York, you know, and so on—I should be
very ready to do,"
"Thank youl" said the other.
"And even, if necessary, provide you with a
X*
34°
VICE VERSA.
small fund to start afresh upon. Honestly," said
Paul, "you will not find me difficult to deal
with."
"It's a dazzling proposition," remarked Paradine
drily. "You have such an alluring way of putting
things. But the fact is, you'll hardly believe it,
but Pm remarkably well off here. I am indeed.
Your son, you know, though not you (except as
a mere matter of form), really makes, as they say
of the marmalade in the advertisements, an admirable
substitute. 1 doubt, 1 do assure you, whether
you yourself would have received me with quite
the same warmth and hospitality I have met with
from him."
"So do I," said Paul; "very much."
"Just so; for, without your admirable business
capacity and extraordinary firmness of character,
you know, he has, if you'll excuse my saying so,
a more open, guileless nature, a more entire and
touching faith in his fellow-man and brother-in-
law, than were ever yours."
"To say that to me," said Paul hotly, "is
nothing less than sheer impudence."
"My dear Paul (it does seem deuced o Id to
be talking to a little shrimp like you as grown¬
up brother-in-law. I shall get used to it presently,
I daresay I flatter myself I am a man of the
world. We're dealing with one another now, as
the lawyers have it, at arm's length. Just put your¬
self in my place (you're so remarkably good at
putting yourself in other people's places, you know .
A PERFIDIOUS ALLY.
341
Look at the thing from my point of view. Ac¬
cidentally dropping in at your offices to negotiate
(if I could) a small temporary loan from anyone
I chanced to meet on the premises, I find myself,
to my surprise, welcomed with effusion into what
I then imagined to be your arms. More than that,
I was invited here for an indefinite time, all my
little eccentricities unmentioned, overlooked. I was
deeply touched (it struck me, I confess, at one
time that you must be touched too), but I made
the best use of my opportunities. I made hay
while the sun shone."
"Do you mean to make me lose my temper?"
interrupted Paul. "It will not take much more."
"I have no objection. I find men as a rule
easier to deal with when they have once lost their
temper, their heads so often go too. But to re
turn: a man with nerve and his fair share of
brains, like myself, only wants a capitalist (he need
not be a millionaire) at his back to conquer the
world. It's not by any means my first campaign,
and I've had reverses, but I see victory in my
grasp, sir, in my grasp at last!"
Paul groaned.
"Now you-—it's not your fault, I know, a
mere defect of constitution; but you, as a specu
lator, were, if I may venture to put it so, not
worth your salt; no boldness, 110 dash, all caution
But vour promising son is a regular whale on
speculation, and I may tell you that we stand in
together in some little ventures that would very
342
VICE VERSA.
probably make your hair stand on end—you
wouldn't have touched them. And yet there's
money in every one of them."
"I daresay there is," said Paul savagely; "I
won't have any of my money in them."
"You don't know much about these things,
you see," said Marmaduke; "I tell you I have my
eye on some fine openings for capital."
"Your pockets always were very fine openings
for capital," retorted Paul.
"Ha, ha, deuced sharp that! But, to come
to the point, you were always a sensible practical
kind of a fellow, and you must see, that, for me
to back you up and upset this young rascal who
has stepped into your slippers, might be morally
meritorious enough, but, treating it from a purely
pecuniary point of view, it's not business."
"I see," said Mr. Bultitude heavily; "then you
side against me."
"Did I ever say I would side against you?
Let us hear first what you propose to do."
Paul, upon this, explained that, as he believed
the Stone still retained its power of granting one
wish to any other person who happened to get
hold of it, his idea was to get possession of it
somehow from Dick, who probably would have it
about him somewhere, and then pass it on to
some one whom he could trust not to misuse it
so basely.
"A good idea that, Paul, my boy," said Pa-
radine, smiling; "but you don't imagine our young
A PERFIDIOUS ALLY.
343
friend would be quite such an idiot as not to see
your game! Why, he would pitch the Stone in
the gutter and stamp it to powder, rather than
let you get hold of it."
"He's quite capable of it," said Paul; "in-fact,
he threatened to do worse than that. I doubt if
I shall ever be able to manage it myself; but
what am I to do? I must try, and I've no time
to lose about it either."
"I tell you this," said Marmaduke, "if you
let him see you here, it's all up with you. What
you want is some friend to manage this for you,
someone he won't suspect. Now, suppose I were
willing to risk it for you?"
"You!" cried Paul, with involuntary distrust.
"Why not?" said Marmaduke, with a touch
of feeling. "Ah, I see, you can't trust me. You've
got an idea into your head that I'm a thorough¬
paced rascal, without a trace of human feeling
about me. I daresay I deserve it, I daresay I
do; but it's not generous, my boy, for all that.
I hope to show you your mistake yet, if you give
me the chance. You allow yourself to be preju¬
diced by the past, that's where you make your
mistake I only put before you clearly and plainly
what it was I was giving up in helping you. A
fellow may have a hard cynical kind of way of
putting things, and yet take my word for it, Paui,
I have a heart as tender as a spring chicken under¬
neath. I believe I'm something like that myself.
I tell you I'm sorry for you. I don't like to see a
family man of your position in such a regular
344
VICE VERSA.
deuce of a hole. I feel bound to give you a lift
out of it, and let my prospects take their own
chance. I leave the gratitude to you. When I've
done, kick me down the doorsteps if you like. I
shall go out into the world with the glow of self-
approval (and rapid motion i warming my system.
Take my advice, don't attempt to tackie Dick
yourself. Leave him to me."
"If I could only make up my mind to trust
you!" muttered Paul.
"The old distrust," cried Marmaduke; "you
can't forget. You won't believe a poor devil like
me can have any gratitude, any disinterestedness
left in him. Never mind, I'll go. I'll leave it to you.
I'll send Dick in here, and we shall see whether
he's such a fool as you think him."
"No," said Paul, "no; I feel you're right; that
would never do."
"It would be for my advantage, I think," said
the other, "but you had better take me while I
am in a magnanimous mood, the opportunity may
never occur again. Come, am I to help you or
not? Yes or no?"
"I must accept," said Paul reluctantly; "1 can't
find Boaler now, and it might take hours to make
him see what I wanted. I ll trust to your honour.
What shall I dor"
"Do? Get away from this, he'll be coming
in here very soon to me. Run away and play
with the children or hide in the china closet—any¬
thing but stay here."
RUN TO EARTH.
345
"I—I must be here while you are managing
him," objected Paul.
"Nonsense!" said Paradine angrily. "I tell
you it will spoil all, unless you — who's that? it's
his step—too late now—dash it all! Behind that
screen, quick—don't move for your life till I tell
you you may come out!"
Mr. Bultitude had no choice; there was just
time to set up an old folding screen which stood
in a corner of the room and slip behind it before
the door opened.
It might not be the highest wisdom to trust
everything to his new ally in this manner; but what
else could he do, except stand by in forced
inactivity while the momentous duel was being
fought out? Just then, at all events, he saw no
other course.
CHAPTER XVIII.
RUN TO EARTH.
"The is noon in this hous schuld bynde me this night." — The
Cokes Tale of Ganulyn.
DlCK burst open the door of the billiard-room
rather suddenly, and then stood holding on to the
handle and smiling down upon his relative in a
happy and affectionate but rather weak manner.
"So here you are!" he said. "Been lookin'
for you everywhere. What's good of shutting
34-6
VICE VERSA.
'self in here? Come up and play gamesh. No?
Come in and have shupper. I've had shupper."
"So I perceive," observed Uncle Marmaduke;
and the fact was certainly obvious enough.
"Tell y' what I did," giggled the wretched
Dick. "You know I never did get what I call
regular good blow out—always someone to shay
'had quite 'nough' 'fore I'd begun. So I thought
this time I would have a tuck-in till—till I felt
tired, and I—he-he-he—I got down 'fore anybody
elsh and helped myshelf. Had first go-in. No one
to help to thingsh. No girlsh to bother. It was
prime! When they've all gone up again you and
me '11 go in and have shome more, eh?"
"You're a model host," said his uncle.
"It's a good shupper," Dick went on. "I
ought to know. I've had some of everything.
It'sh almost too good for kids. But it'sh a good
thing I went in first. After I'd been in a little
time I saw a sponge-cake on the table, and when
I tried it, what d'ye think I found ? It was as full
inside of brandy-an-sherry as it could be. All it
could do to shtand! I saw d'rectly it washn't in
condition come to table, and I said, 'Take it away!
take it away! It'sh drunk; it'sh a dishgraceful
sight for children!" But they wouldn't take it
away; sho I had to take it away. But you can't
take away a whole tipshy-cake!"
"I am quite sure you did your best,"
murmured Paradine.
"Been having such gamesh upstairs!" said
Dick, with another giggle. "That lil' Dolly
RUN TO EARTH.
347
Merridew's jolly girl. Not sho nice as Dulcie,
though. Why didn' we invite Dulcie? I wanted
them to invite Dulcie. Here, you, let'sh go up
and let off fireworksh on balcony, eh? Let'sh have
jolly lark!"
"No, no," said his uncle. "You and I are too
old for that sort of thing. You should leave the
larks to the young fellows."
"How do you know I'm too old for sorter-
thing?" said Dick, with an offended air.
"Well, you're not a young man any longer,
you know. You ought to behave like the steady
old buffer you look."
"Why?" demanded Dick; "why should I
behave like shteady ole buffer, when I don' feel
shteady ole buffer? What do you want shpoil fun
for? Tell you I shall do jus' zackly wharriplease.
And, if you shay any more, I'll punch y* head!"
"No, no," said his uncle, slightly alarmed at
this intimation. "Come, you're not going to
quarrel with me, I'm sure!"
"All ri'," said Dick. "No; I won' quarrel.
Don' wanter quarrel anybody."
"That's right," said Paradine. "I knew you
were a noble fellow!"
"Sho I am," said Dick, shaking hands with
effusion. "So are you. Nearly ash noble 'sh me.
There, you're jolly good fellow. I say, I've goo'
mind tell you something. I say, I've goo' mind
tell you something. Make you laugh. But I
won't; not now."
VICE VERSA.
"Oh, you can tell me," said Marmaduke.
"No secrets between friends; you know."
"Shan't tell you now," said Dick. "Keep
shecret little longer."
"Do you know, my friend, that there's some¬
thing very odd about you I've noticed lately?
Something that makes me almost fancy sometimes
you're not what you pretend to be."
Dick sat down heavily on one of the leather
benches placed against the wall.
"Eh, what shay?" he gasped. "Say
tharragain."
"You look to me," said Marmaduke slowly,
"like someone excellently made up for the part of
heavy father, without a notion how to play it.
Dick, you young dog, you see I know you! You
can't take me in with all this. You'd better tell
me all about it."
Dick seemed almost sobered by this shock.
"You've found me out," he repeated dully.
"Then it s all up. If you've found me out, every¬
body elsh can find me out!"
"No, no; it's not so bad as that, my boy.
I've better eyes than most people, and then I had
the privilege of knowing your excellent father
rather well once upon a time. You haven't
studied his little peculiarities closely enough; but
you'll improve. By the way, where is your ex¬
cellent father all this time?"
"He's all right," said Dick, beginning to
chuckle. "He he. He's at school, he is!"
"At school! You mean to say you've put
RUN TO EARTH.
349
him to school at his time of life! He's rather old
for that sort of thing, isn't he ? They don't take
him on the ordinary terms, do they?"
"Ah," said Dick, "that'sh where it is. He
isn't old, you see, now, to look at. I took care
of all that!"
"Not old to look at! Then how on earth
I should like to know how you managed all that.
What have you been doing to the poor old
gentleman ?"
"That'sh my affair," said Dick. "An' if I
don't tell you, you won' find that out anyway!"
"There's only one way you could have done
it," said Paradine, pretending to hesitate. "It
must have been done by some meddling with
magic. Now what Let me see—yes— —
Surely the Stone I brought your poor mother
from India was given to me as a talisman of some
sort? You surely can't have been sharp enough
to get hold of that!"
"How did you know?" cried Dick sharply.
"Who told you?"
"I am right then? Well, you are a clever
fellow. I should like to know how you did it,
now ?"
"Did it with the Shtone," said Dick, evidently
discomposed by such unexpected penetration, but
unable to prevent a little natural complacency.
"All my own idea. No one helped me. It—it
washn't sho bad for me, wash it?"
"I5ad; it was capital!" cried Marmaduke en¬
thusiastically. "It was a stroke of genius! And
35°
VICE VERSA.
so my Indian Stone has done all this for you.
Sounds like an Arabian Night, by Jove! By-the-
by, you don't happen to have it about you, do
you? I should rather like to look at it again. It's
a real curiosity after this."
Paul trembled with anxiety. Would Dick be
induced to part with it? If so, he was saved 1 But
Dick looked at his uncle's outstretched hand, and
wagged his head with tips)' cunning.
"I dareshay you would," he said, "but I'm
not sho green as all that. Don't let that Stone
out of my hands for anyone."
"Why, I only wanted to look at it for a
minute or two," said Marmaduke; "I wouldn't
hurt it or lose it."
"You won' get chance," said Dick.
"Oh, very well," said I'aradine carelessly,
"just as you please, it doesn't matter; though
when we come to talk things over a little, you
may find it better to trust me more than that."
"Wha' do you mean?" said Dick uneasily.
"Well, I'll try to explain as well as I can,
my boy (drink a little of this soda water first,
it's an excellent thing after supper); there, you're
better now, aren't you? Now, I've found you out,
as you see; but only because I knew something
of the powers of this Stone of yours, and guessed
the rest. It doesn't at all follow that other people,
who know nothing at all, will be as sharp; if
you're more careful about your behaviour in fu¬
ture—unless, unless, young fellow " and here
he paused meaningly.
RUN TO EARTII.
351
"Unless what?" asked Dick suspiciously.
"Unless I chose to tell them what I've found
out."
"What would you tell them?" said Dick.
"What? Why, what I know of this talisman;
tell them to use their eyes; they wouldn't be
very long before they found out that something
was wrong. And when one or two of your
father's friends once get hold of the idea, your
game will be very soon over—you know that as
well as I do."
"But," stammered Dick, "you wouldn't go
and do beastly mean thing like that? I've not
been bad fellow to you."
"The meanness, my dear boy, depends en¬
tirely upon the view you take of it. Now, the
question with me, as a man of honour (and I may
tell you an over-nice sense of honour has been a
drawback I've had to struggle against all my life),
the question with me is this: Is it not my plain
duty to step in and put a stop to this topsy¬
turvy state of things, to show you up as the
barefaced young impostor you are, and restore
my unhappy brother-in-law to his proper position?"
"Very well expressed," thought Paul, who
had been getting uncomfortable; "he has a heart,
as he said, after all!"
"How does that seem to strike you?" added
Paradine.
"It shtrikes me as awful rot," said Dick, with
refreshing candour.
"It's the language of conscience, but I don't
352
VICE VERSA.
expect you to see it in the same light. I don't
mind confessing to you, either, that I'm a poor
devil to whom money and a safe and respectable
position (all of which I have herei are great con¬
siderations. But whenever I see the finger of
duty and honour, and family affection all beckon¬
ing me along a particular road, I make a point
of obeying their monitions—occasionally. I don't
mean to say that I never have bolted down a
back way, instead, when it was made worth my
while, or that I never will."
"I wonder what he's driving at now," thought
Paul.
"1 don't know about duty and honour, and
all that," said Dick; "my head aches, it's the
noise they're making upstairs. Are you goin'
to tell?"
"The fact is, my dear boy, that when one
has had a keen sense of honour in constant use
for several years, it's like most other articles, apt
to become a little the worse for wear. Mine is
not what it used to be, Dicky ,that's your name,
isn't it?). Our powers fail as we grow old."
"I don' know what you're talking about!"
said Dick helplessly. "Do tell me what you mean
to do?"
"Well then, your head's clear enough to un¬
derstand this much, I hope," said Paradine a little
impatiently, "that, if I did my duty and exposed
you, you wouldn't be able to keep up the farce
for a single hour, in spite of all your personal
advantages — you know that, don't you?"
RUN TO EARTH.
353
"I shpose I know that," said Dick feebly.
"You know too, that if I could be induced—
mind, I don't say I can—to hold my tongue and
stay on here and look after you and keep you
from betraying ) ourself by any more of these
schoolboy follies, there's not much fear that any¬
one else will ever find out the secret—"
"Which are you going to do then?" said
Dick.
"Suppose I say that I like you, that you have
shown me more kindness in a single week than
ever your respectable father has since I first made
his acquaintance. Suppose I say that I am willing
to let the sense of honour and duty, and all the
rest of it, go overboard together; that we two to¬
gether are a match for Papa, wherever he may be
and whatever he chooses to say and do?"
There was a veiled defiance in his voice that
seemed meant for more than Dick, and alarmed
Mr. Bultitude; however, he tried to calm his un¬
easiness and persuade himself that it was part of
the plot.
"Will you say that?" cried Dick excitedly.
"On one condition, which 111 tell you by-
and-by. Yes, I'll stand by you, my boy, I'll coach
you till I make you a man of business every bit
as good as your father, and a much better man
of the world. I'll show you how to realise a co¬
lossal fortune if you only take my advice. And
we'll pack Papa off to some place abroad where
he'll have no holidays and give no trouble!"
Y
354
VICE VERSA.
"No," said Dick firmly; "I won't have that.
After all, he'? my governor."
"Do what you like with him then, he can't
do much harm. I tell you, I'll do all this, on one
condition—it's a very simple one—"
"What is it?" asked Dick.
"This. You have, somewhere or other, the
Stone that has done all this for you—you may
have it about you at this very moment—ah!" (as
Dick made a sudden movement towards his white
waistcoat) "I thought so! Well, I want that Stone.
You were afraid to leave it in my hands for a
minute or two just now; you must trust me with
it altogether."
Paul was relieved; of course this was merely an
artifice to recover the Garuda Stone, and Marma-
duke was not playing him false after all—he waited
breathlessly for Dick's answer.
"No," said Dick, "I can't do that; I want
it too."
"Why, man, what use is it to you? it only
gives you one wish, you can't use it again."
Dick mumbled something about his being ill,
and Barbara wishing him well again.
"1 suppose I can do that as well as Barbara,"
said his uncle. "Come , don't be obstinate, give
me the Stone; it's very important that it should
be in safe hands
"No," said Dick obstinately; he was fumbling
all the time irresolutely in his pockets; "I mean
to keep it myself."
"Very well then, I have done with you. To-
RUN TO EARTH.
355
morrow morning I shall step up to Mincing Lane,
and then to your father's solicitor. I think his
offices are in Bedford Row, but I can easily find
out at your father's place. After that, young
man, you'll have a very short time to amuse your¬
self in, so make the best of it."
"No, don't leave me, let me alone for a mi¬
nute," pleaded Dick, still fumbling.
At this a sudden suspicion of his brother-in
law's motives for wishing to get the Stone into
his own hands overcame all Paul's prudence. If he
was so clever in deceiving Dick, might he not be
cheating him, too, just as completely? He could
wait no longer, but burst from behind the screen
and rushed in between the pair.
"Go back!" screamed Paradine. "You infernal
old idiot, you've ruined everything 1"
"I won't go back," said Paul. "I don't be¬
lieve in you. I'll hide no longer. Dick, I forbid
you to trust that man."
Dick had risen in horror at the sudden ap¬
parition, and staggered back against the wall,
where he stood staring stupidly at his unfortunate
father with fixed and vacant eyes.
"Badly as you've treated me, I'd rather trust
you than that shifty, plausible fellow there. Just
look at me, Dick, and then say if you can let
this cruelty go on. If you knew all I've suffered
since I have been among those infernal boys, you
would pity me, you would indeed. ... If you send
me back there again, it will kill me. . . . You
know as well as I do that it is worse for me than
V
356
VICE VERSA.
ever it could be for you. ... You can't really
justify yourself because of a thoughtless wish of
mine, spoken without the least intention of being
taken at my word. Dick, I may not have shown
as much affection for you as I might have done,
but I don't think I deserve all this. Be gene¬
rous with me now, and I swear you will never
regret it."
Dick's lips moved; there really was something
like pity and repentance in his face, muddled and
dazed as his general expression was by his recent
over-indulgence, but he said nothing.
"Give papa the Stone by all means," sneered
Paradine. "If you do, he will find someone to
wish the pair of you back again, and then, back
you go to school again, the laughing-stock of
everybody, you silly young cub!"
"Don't listen to him, Dick," urged Paul. "Give
it to me, for Heaven's sake; if you let him have
it, he'll use it to ruin us all."
But Dick turned his white face to the rival
claimants, and said, getting the words out with
difficulty: "Papa, I'm shorry. It is a shame. If
I had the Shtone, I really would give it you,
upon my word-an'-honour 1 would. But—but,
now I can't ever give it up to you. It'sh gone.
Dosht!"
"Lost!" cried Marmaduke. "When, where?
When do you last recollect seeing it? you must
know!"
"In the morning," said Dick, twirling his
RUN TO EARTH.
357
chain, where part of the cheap gilt fastening still
hung.
"No; afternoon. I don't know," he added
helplessly.
Paul sank down on a chair with a heartbroken
groan; a moment ago he had felt himself very
near his goal, he had regained something of his
old influence over Dick, he had actually managed
to touch his heart—and now it was all in vain I
Paradine's jaw fell; he, too, had had his
dreams of doing wonderful things with the talis¬
man after he had cajoled Dick to part with it.
Whether the restoration of his brother-in-law formed
any part of his programme it is better, perhaps,
not to inquire. His dreams were scattered; the
Stone might be anywhere, buried in London mud,
lying on railway ballast, or ground to powder by
cartwheels. There was little chance, indeed, that
even the most liberal rewards would lead to dis¬
covery. He swore long and comprehensively.
As for Mr. Bultitude, he sat motionless in
his chair, staring in dull, speechless reproach at
the conscience-stricken Dick, who stood in the
corner blinking and whimpering with an abject
penitence, odd and painful to see in one of his
portly form. The children had now apparently
finished supper, for there were sounds above as
of dancing, and "Sir Roger de Coverley," with
its rollicking, never-wearying repetition, was dis¬
tinctly audible above the din and laughter. Once
before, a week ago that very day, had that heartless
piano mocked him with its untimely gaiety.
358
VICE VERSA.
But things were not at their worst even yet,
for, while they sat like this, there was a sharp,
short peal at the house-bell, followed by loud and
rather angry knocking, for, carriages being no
longer expected, the servants and waiters had
now closed the front-door, and left the passage
for the supper-room.
"The visitors' bell!" cried Paul, roused from
his apathy; and he rushed to the window which
commanded a side-view of the portico; it might
be only a servant calling for one of the children,
but he feared the worst, and could not rest till
he knew it.
It was a rash thing to do, for as he drew
the blind, he saw a large person in a heavy
Inverness cloak standing on the steps, and (which
was worse) the person saw him and recognised
him 1
With fascinated horror, Mr. Bultitude saw the
Doctor's small grey eyes fixed angrily on him,
and knew that he was hunted down at last.
He turned to the other two with a sort of
ghastly composure; "It's all over now," he said.
"I've just seen Dr. Grimstone standing on my
doorstep; he has come after me."
Uncle Marmaduke gave a malicious little
laugh: "I'm sorry for jou, my friend," he said,
"but I really can't help it."
"You can," said Paul; "you can tell him
what you know. You can save me."
"Very poor economy that," said Marmaduke
airily. "I prefer spending to saving, always did.
RUN TO EARTH.
359
I have my own interests to consider, my dear
Paul."
"Dick," said poor Mr. Bultitude, disgusted at
this exhibition of selfishness, "you said you were
sorry just now. Will you tell him the truth?"
But Dick was quite unnerved, he cowered
away, almost crying; "I daren't, I daren't," he
stammered; "I—I can't go back to the fellows
like this. I'm afraid to tell him. 1-—I want to
hide somewhere."
And certainly he was in no condition to
convince an angry schoolmaster of anything what¬
ever, except that he was in a state very unbecoming
to the head of a family.
It was all over; Paul saw that too well, he
dashed frantically from the fatal billiard-room, and
in the hall met Boaler preparing to admit the
visitor.
"Don't open the doorl" he screamed. "Keep
him out, you mustn't let him in. It's Dr. Grim-
stone."
Boaler, surprised as he naturally was at his young
master's unaccountable appearance and evident
panic, nevertheless never moved a muscle of his
face; he was one of those perfectly bred servants,
who, if they chanced to open the door to a ghoul
or a skeleton, would merely inquire, "What name,
if you please?"
"I must go and ask your Par, then, Master
Dick; there's time to 'ook it upstairs while I'm
gone. I won't say nothing," he added com¬
passionately.
360
VICE VERSA.
Paul lost no time in following this suggestion,
but rushed upstairs, two or three steps at the
time, stumbling at every flight, with a hideous
nightmare feeling that some invisible thing behind
was trying to trip up his heels.
He rushed blindly past the conservatory,
which was lit up by Chinese lanterns and crowded
with "little Kate Greenaway" maidens crowned
with fantastic headdresses out of the crackers, and
comparing presents with boylovers; he upset
perspiring waiters with glasses and trays, and
scattered the children sitting on the stairs, as he
bounded on in his reckless flight, leaving crashes
of glass behind him
He had no clear idea of what he meant to
dc; he thought of barricading himself in his bed¬
room and hiding in the wardrobe; he had desperate
notions of getting on to the housetop by means
of a step-ladder and the sky light ab we the nursery
landing; on one point he was resolved—he would
not be retaken alive!
Never before in this commonplace London
world of ours was an unfortunate householder
hunted up his own staircase in this distressing
manner; even his terror did not blind him to the
extreme ignominy and injustice of his position.
Ami below he heard the bell ringing more
and more impatiently, as the Doctor still remained
on the wrong side of the door In another minute
he must be admitted—and then!
Who will not sympathise with Mr. Bultitude
as he approaches the crisis of his misfortunes? I
THE RECKONING.
361
protest, for my own part, that as I am compelled
to describe him springing from step to step in
wild terror, like a highly respectable chamois
before some Alpine marksman, my own heart
bleeds for him, and I hasten to end my distressing
tale, and make the rest of it as little painful as
I may with honesty.
CHAPTER XIX.
THE RECKONING.
Monrt. The father is victorious.
Belf. Let us haste
To gratulate his conquests.
1st Capt. We to mourn
The fortune of the son.
Massinger. The Unnatural Combat.
POOR Mr. Bultitude, springing wildly upstairs in a
last desperate effort to avoid capture, had now
almost reached his goal. Just above him was the
nursery landing, with its little wooden gate, and
near it, leaning against the wall, was the pair of
kitchen steps, with which he had hopes of reaching
the roof, or the cistern loft, or some other safe
and inaccessible place. Better a night spent on
the slates amongst the chimney-pots than a bed
in that terrible No. 6 Dormitory!
But here, too, fate was against him. He was
not more than half-a-dozen steps from the top,
362
VICE VERSA.
when, to his unspeakable horror, lie saw a small
form in a white frock and cardinal-red sash come
running out of the nursery, and begin to descend
slowly and cautiously, clinging to the banisters
with one chubby little hand.
It was his youngest son, Roly, and as soon
as he saw this, he lost hope once and for all; he
could not escape being recognised, the child would
probably refuse to leave him, and even if he did
contrive to get away from him, it would be hope¬
less to make Roly understand that he was not to
betray his hiding place.
So he stopped on the stairs, aghast at this
new misfortune, and feeling himself at the end of
all his resources. Roly knew him at once, and
began to dance delightedly up and down on the
stair in his little bronze shoes. "Buzzer Dicky,"
he cried, "dear buzzer Dicky, turn 'ome to
party!"
"It's not brother Dicky," said Paul miserably;
"it's all a mistake."
"Oh, but it is though," said Roly; "and you
don't know what Roly's found."
"No, no," said Paul, trying to pass i^vhich,
as Roly persisted in leaping joyously from side
to side of the narrow stair, was difficulty, "you
shall show me another time. I'm in a hurry, my
boy, I've got an appointment."
"Roly's got something better than that,"
observed the child.
Mr. Bultitude, in spite of his terror, was too
much afraid of hurting him by brushing roughly
THE RECKONING.
363
past to attempt such a thing, so he tried diplomacy.
"Well, what has Roly found, a cracker?"
"No, no, better than a cwacker—you guess."
"I can't guess," said Paul; "never mind, I don't
wan't to know."
"Well then," said Roly, "there." And he
slowly unclosed a fat little fist, and in it Paul saw,
with a revulsion of feeling that turned him dizzy
and faint, the priceless talisman itself, the identical
Garuda Stone, with part of the frail gilt ring still
attached to it.
The fastening had probably given way during
Master Dick's uproarious revels in the drawing-
room, and Roly must have picked it up on the
carpet shortly afterwards.
"Isn't it a pitty sing?" said Roly, insisting that
his treasure should be duly admired.
"A very pretty thing," said his father, hoarse
and panting; "but it's mine, Roly, it's mine!"
And he tried to snatch it, but Roly closed
his fist over it and pouted. "It isn't yours," he
said, "it's Roly's. Roly found it."
Paul's fears rose again; would he be wrecked
in port after all? His ears, unnaturally strained,
caught the sound of the front door being
opened, he heard the Doctor's deep voice boom¬
ing faintly below, then the noise of persons as¬
cending.
"Roly shall have it then," he said perfidiously,
"if he will say after me what I tell him. Say,
'I wish Papa and Brother Dick back as they were
before,' Roly."
364
VICE VERSA.
"Ith it a game?" asked Roly, his face clear¬
ing and evidently delighted with his eccentric
brother Dick, who had run all the way home from
school to play games with him on the staircase.
"No — yesl" cried Paul, "it's a very funny
game; only do what I tell you. Now say, 'I wish
Papa and Brother Dick back again as they were
before.' I'll give you a sugar-plum if you say it
nicely."
"What sort of sugar-plum?" demanded Roly,
who inherited business instincts.
"Any sort you like best!" almost shrieked
Paul; "oh, do get on!"
"Lots of sugar-plums then. 'I with'—I forget
what you told me—oh, 'I with Papa and '
there'th thomebody tummin up sthairs!" he broke
off suddenly; "it'th nurth tummin to put me to
bed. I don't want to go to bed yet."
"And you shan't go to bed!" cried Paul, for
he too thought he heard someone. "Never mind
nurse, finish the—the game."
—'Papa and Buzzy Dicky back again as—as
they were before,' repeated Roly at last. "What
a funny—ow, ow, it'th Papa! it'th Papa! and he
told me it wath Dicky. I'm afraid. Whereth
Dicky gone to? I want Bab, take me to Bab."
For the Stone had done its work once more,
and this time with happier results; with a supreme
relief and joy, which 110 one who has read this
book can fail to understand, Mr. Bultitude felt that
he actually was his old self again.
Just when all hope seemed cut off and relief
THE RECKONING.
365
was most unlikely, the magic spell that had caused
him such intolerable misery for one hideous week
was reversed by the hand of his innocent child.
He caught Roly up in his arms and kissed
him as he had never been kissed in his whole life
before, at least by his father, and comforting
him as well as he could , for the poor child
had naturally received rather a severe shock, he
stepped airily down the staircase, which he had
mounted with such different emotions five minutes
before.
On his way he could not resist going into
his dressing-room and assuring himself by a
prolonged examination before the cheval-glass
that the Stone had not played him some last
piece of jugglery; but he found everything quite
correct; he was the same formal, precise and
portly old gentleman, wearing the same morning
dress even as on that other Monday evening, and
he went on with greater confidence.
He took care, however, to stop at the first
window, when he managed, after some coaxing, to
persuade Roly to give up the Garuda Stone. As
soon as he had it in his hands again, he opened
the window wide and flung the dangerous talisman
far out into the darkness. Not till then did he
feel perfectly secure.
He passed the groups of little guests gathered
about the conservatory, and lower down he met
Boaler, the nurse, and one or two servants and
waiters, rushing up in a state of great anxiety and
flurry; even Boaler's usual composure seemed
366
VICE VERSA.
shaken. "Please, sir," he asked, " the schoolmaster
gentleman, Master Dick— he've run upstairs, haven't
you seen him?"
Paul had almost forgotten Dick in his new
happiness; there would be a heavy score to settle
with him; he had the upper hand once more, and
yet, somehow, he did not feel as much righteous
wrath and desire for revenge as he expected
to do.
"Don't be alarmed," he said, waving them
back with more benignity than they thought he
had in him. "Master Dick is safe enough. I know
all about it. Where is Dr. Grimstone? In the
library, eh? very well, I will see him there."
And leaving Roly with the nurse, he went
down to the library; not, if the truth must be
told, without a slight degree of nervousness, un¬
reasonable and unaccountable enough now, but
quite beyond his power to control.
He entered the room, and there, surrounded
by piles of ticketed hats and coats, under the pale
light of one gas-burner, he saw the terrible man
before whom he had trembled for the last seven
horrible days.
A feeling of self-defence made Paul assume
rather more than his old stiffness as he shook
hands. "I am very glad to see you, Dr. Grimstone,"
he said, "but your coming at this time forces me
to ask if there is any unusual reason for, for my
having the—a —pleasure of seeing you here?"
"I am exceedingly distressed to have to say
that there is," said the Doctor solemnly, "or I
THE RECKONING.
367
should not have troubled you at this hour. Try
to compose yourself, my dear sir, to bear this
blow."
"I will," said Paul, "I will try."
"The fact is then, and I know how sad a
story it must be for a parent's ear, but the fact
is, that your unhappy boy has had the inconceivable
rashness to quit my roof." And the Doctor
paused to watch the effect of his announcement.
"God bless my soul!" cried Paul. "You
don't say so!"
"I do indeed; he has, in short, run away.
But don't be alarmed, my dear Mr. Bultitude, I
think I can assure you he is quite safe at the
present moment" ("Thank Heaven, he is!" thought
Paul, thinking of his own marvellous escape).
"I should certainly have recaptured him before
he could have left the railway station, where he
seems to have gone at once, only, acting on in¬
formation (which I strongly suspect now was
intentionally misleading), I drove on to the station
on the up-line, thinking to find him there. He
was not there, sir, I believe he never went there
at all; but, guessing how matters were, I searched
the train, carriage by carriage, compartment by
compartment, when it came up."
"I am very sorry you should have had so
much trouble," said Paul, with a vivid recollection
of the exploring stick; "and so you found him?"
"No, sir," said the Doctor passionately, "I
did not find him, but he was there; he must have
been there! but the shameless connivance of two
368
VICE VERSA.
excessively ill-bred persons, who positively refuse
to allow me access to their compartment, cause
him to slip through my fingers."
Mr. Bultitude observed, rather ungratefull)
that, if this was so, it was a most improper thin
for them to do.
"It was, indeed, but it is of no consequenc
fortunately. I was forced to wait for the ne>
train, but that was not a very slow one and so
was able to come on here before a very late hoi
and acquaint you with what had taken place."
"Thank you very much," said Paul.
"It's a painful thing to occur in a school,
observed the Doctor after a pause.
"Most unfortunate," agreed Paul, coughing.
"So apt to lead persons who are not acquainte
with the facts to imagine that the boy was unhapp
under my care," continued the Doctor.
"In this case, I assure you, I have no doubts,
protested Paul with politeness and ^seldom a po<
sible combination) perfect truth.
"Very kind of you to say so, really, it's
great mystery to me. I certainly, as I felt it m
duty to inform you at the time, came very nea
inflicting corporal punishment upon him this morr
ing—very near. But then he was pardoned o
your intercession; and, besides, the boy woul
never have run away for fear of a flogging."
" Oh , no , perfectly absurd!" agreed Par
again.
"Such a merry, high-spirited lad, too," saf
the Doctor, sincerely enough; "popular with hi
THE RECKONING.
369
schoolfellows; a favourite (in spite of his faults)
with his teachers."
"No, was he though?" said Paul with more
surprise, for he had not been fortunate enough to
reap much vicarious benefit from his son's popu¬
larity, as he could not help remembering.
"All this, added to the comforts (or, may I
say, the luxuries?) he enjoyed under my super¬
vision, does make it seem very strange and un¬
grateful in the boy to take this sudden and ill-
considered step."
"Very, indeed; but do you know, Dr. Grim-
stone, I can't help thinking—and pray do not
misunderstand me if 1 speak plainly—that, per¬
haps, he had reasons for being unhappy you can
have no idea of?"
"He would have found me ready to hear
any complaints and prompt to redress them, sir,"
said the Doctor. "But, now I think of it, he
certainly did appear to have something on his
mind which he wished to tell me; but his manner
was so strange and he so persistently refused to
come to the point, that I was forced to discourage
him at last."
"You did discourage him, indeed 1" said Paul
inwardly, thinking of those attempted confidences
with a shudder. "Perhaps some of his school¬
fellows may have—eh?" he said aloud.
"My dear sir," exclaimed the Doctor, "quite
out of the question!"
"Do you think so?" said Paul, not being able
to resist the suggestion. "And yet, do you know,
z
370
VICE VERSA.
some of them did not appear to me to look ver;
—very good-natured, now."
"A more manly, pleasant, and gentlemanh
set of youths never breathed 1" said the Doctor
taking up the cudgels for his boys, and, to d<
him justice, probably with full measure of belie
in his statement. "Curious now that they shoulc
have struck you so differently!"
"They certainly did strike me very differently,'
said Paul. "But I may be mistaken."
"You are, my dear sir. And, pardon me
but you had no opportunity of testing you
opinion."
"Oh, pardon me," retorted Paul grimly,
had indeed!"
"A cursory visit," said the Doctor, "a forma
inspection—you cannot fairly judge boys by that
They will naturally be reserved and constrainec
in the presence of an elder. But you should ob
serve them without their knowledge—you want tc
know them, my dear Air. Bultitude, you want tc
go among them!"
It was the very last thing Paul did want —
he knew them quite well enough, but it was ol
no use to say so, and he merely assented po¬
litely.
"And now," said the Doctor, "with regard to
your misguided boy? I have to tell you that he
is here, in this very house. I tracked him here,
and, ten minutes ago, saw him with my own
eyes at one of your windows."
THE RECKONING.
371
"Here!" cried Faul, with a well-executed start;
"you astonish me!"
"It has occurred to me within the last minute,"
said the Doctor, "that there may be a very simple
explanation of his flight. I observe you are giving
a—a juvenile entertainment on a large scale."
"I suppose I am," Paul admitted. "And so
you think ?"
"I think that your son, who doubtless knew
of your intention, was hurt at being excluded from
the festivities, and, in a fit of mad wilful folly, re¬
solved to be present at them in spite of you."
"My dear Doctor," cried Paul, who saw the
conveniences of this theory, "that must be it, of
course—that explains it all!"
"So grave an act of insubordination," said
the Doctor, "an act of double disobedience—to
your authority and mine—deserves the fullest pu¬
nishment. You agree with me, I trust?"
The memory of his wrongs overcame Mr.
Eultitude for the moment: "Nothing can be too
bad for the little scoundrel!" he said, between
his teeth.
"He shall have it, sir, I swear to you; he
shall be made to repent this as long as he lives.
This insult to me (and of course to you also)
shall be amply atoned for. If you will have the
goodness to deliver him over to my hands, I will
carry him back at once to Rodwell Regis, and
to-morrow, sir, to-morrow, I will endeavour to
awaken his conscience in a way he will remember!"
The Doctor was more angry than an impar-
z*
372
VICE VERSA.
tial lover of justice might perhaps approve of,
but then it must be rem -inhered that he had seen
himself completely outwitted and his authority set
at nought in a very humiliating fashion.
However, his excessive wrath cooled Paul's
own resentment instead of inflaming it; it made
him reflect that, after all, it was he who had the
best right to be angry.
"Well," he said, rather coldly, "we must
find him first, and then consider what shall be
done to him. If you will allow me I will ring
and "
But before he could lay his hand upon the
bell the library door opened, and Uncle Marma
duke made his appearance, dragging with him the
unwilling Dick: the unfortunate boy was effectually
sobered now, pale and trembling and besmirched
with coal-dust—in fact, in very much the same
plight as his ill-used father had been in only three
hours ago.
There was a brazen smile of triumph on
Mr. Paradine's face as he met Paul's eyes with a
knowing wink, which the latter did not at all
understand.
Such audacity astonished him, for he could
hardly believe that I'aradine, after his perfidious
conduct in the billiard-room, could have the clumsy
impudence to try to propiti ite him now.
"Here he is, my boy," shouted Paradine;
"here's the scamp who lias given us all this trouble!
He came into the billiard-room just now and told
me who he was, but I would have nothing to do
THE RECKONING.
373
with him of course. Not my business, as I told
him at the time. Then—(I think I have the
pleasure of seeing Dr. Grimstone? just so) well,
then >ou, sir, arrived—and he made himself scarce.
But when I saw him in the act of making a bolt
up the area, where he had been taking shelter
apparently in the coal-cellar, I thought it was
time to interfere, and so I collared him. I have
much pleasure in handing him over now to the
proper authorities."
And, letting Dick go, he advanced towards
his brother-in-law, stiil with the same odd expres¬
sion of having a secret understanding with him,
which made Paul's blood boil.
"Stand where you are, sir," said Paul to his
son. "No, Dr. Grimstone, allow me—leave him
to me for the present, please."
"That's much better," whispered Paradine ap¬
provingly; "capital. Keep it up, my boy; keep it
up! Papa's as quiet as a lamb now. Go on."
Then Paul understood; his worthy brother-in-
law had not been present at the last transformation
and was under a slight misapprehension: he evi¬
dently imagined that he had by this last stroke
made himself and Dick masters of the situation—
it was time to undeceive him
"Have the goodness to leave my house at
once, will you!" he said sternly.
"You young fool!" said Marmaduke, under
his breath, "after all I have done for you, too!
Is this your gratitude? You know you can't get
on without me. Take care what you're about!"
374
VICE VERSA.
"If you can't see that the tables are turned
at last," said Paul slowly, "you're a duller knave
than I take you to be."
Marmaduke started back with an oath: "It's
a trick," he said savagely; "you want to get rid
of me."
"I certainly intend to," said Paul. "Are you
satisfied? Do you want proofs—shall I give them
—I did just now in the billiard-room?"
Paradine went to Dick and shook him angrily:
"You young idiot!" he said, in a furious aside,
"why didn't you tell me? What did you let me make
a fool of myself like this for, eh?"
"I did tell you," muttered Dick, "only you
wouldn't listen. It just serves you right!"
Marmaduke soon collected himself after this
unexpected shock: he tried to shake Paul's hands
with an airy geniality. "Only my little joke,"
he said laughing; "ha, ha, I thought I should take
you in! . . . I've been working for you all the
time—but it wouldn't have done to let you see
my line."
"No," said Paul; "it was not a very straight
one, as usual."
"Well," said Marmaduke, "I shouldn't have
stopped Master Dick there if I hadn't been on your
side, should I now? I knew you'd come out of
it all right, but I had a difficult game to play,
don't you know? I don't wonder that you didn't
follow me just at first."
"You've lost your game," said Paul; "it's
THE RECKONING.
3/5
no use to say any more. So now, perhaps,
you'll go?"
"Go, eh?" said Paradine, without showing
much surprise at the failure of so very forlorn a
a hope, "oh, very well, just as you please, of
course. Let your poor wife's only brother go from
your doors without a penny in the world—but I
warn you that a trifle or so laid out in stopping
my mouth would not be thrown away. Some
editors would be glad enough of a sensation from
real life just now, and 1 could tell some very odd
tales about this little affair!"
"Tell them, if a character for sanity is of no
further use to you," said Paul. "Tell them to
anyone you can get to believe you — tell the
crossing-sweeper and the policemen, tell your
mother, tell the horse-marines — it will amuse
them. Only, you shall tell them on the other side
of my front door. Shall I call anyone to show
you out?"
Paradine saw his game was really played out,
and swaggered insolently to the door: "Not on
my account, I beg," he said. "Goodbye, Paul,
my boy, no more dissolving views! Good-bye,
my young friend Richard, it was good fun while
it lasted, eh? like the Servian crown—always a
pleasant reminiscence! Good-evening to you, Doc¬
tor. By the way, for educational purposes let me
recommend a 'Penang lawyer' — buy one as you
go back for the boys—to show them you've been
thinking of them!"
And having little luggage to impede him,
376
VICE VERSA.
the front door closed upon him shortly afterwards,
— this time for ever.
When he had gone, Dick looked imploringly
at his father and then at the Doctor, who, until
Paradine's parting words had lashed him into fury
again, had been examining the engravings on the
walls with a studied delicacy during the recent
painful scene, and was now leaning against the
chimney-piece with his arms folded and a se¬
pulchral gloom on his brow.
"Richard," said Mr. Bultitude, in answer to
the look, "you have not done much to deserve
consideration at my hands."
"Or at mine!" added the Doctor ominously.
"No," said Dick, "I know I haven't. I've
been a brute. I deserve a jolly good licking."
"You do," said his father, but in spite of
his indignation, the broken-down look of the boy,
and the memory of his own sensations when
waiting to be caned that morning, moved him to
pity. And then Dick had shown some compunction
in the billiard-room: he was not entirely lost to
feeling!
"Well," he said at last, "you've acted very
wrongly. Because I thought it best that you
should not—ahem, leave your studies for this
party, you chose to disobey me and alarm your
master by defying my orders and coming home
by stealth—that was your object, I presume?"
"Y—yes," said Dick, looking rather puzzled,
but seeing that he was expected to agree; "that
was it."
THE RECKONING.
377
"You know as well as I do what good cause
I have to be angry; but, if I consent to overlook
your conduct this time, if I ask Dr. Grimstone to
overlook it too" (the Doctor made an inarticulate
protest, while Dick stared incredulous\ "will you
undertake to behave better for the future—will
you?"
Dick's voice broke at this, and his eyes swam
—he was effectually conquered. "Oh, I will!" he
cried, "I will, really. I never meant to go so
far when I began."
"Then, Dr. Grimstone," said Paul, "you will
do me a great favour if you will take no further
notice of this. You see the boy is sorry, and I
am sure he will apologise to you amply for the
grave slight he has done you. And, by the way
—I should have mentioned it before—but he will
have to leave your care at the end of the term
for a public school—I intend to send him to
Harrow, so he will require some additional pre¬
paration, perhaps: I may leave that in your
hands?"
Dr. Grimstone looked deeply offended, but
he only said, "I will see to that myself, my dear
sir. I am sorry you did not tell me this earlier.
But, may I suggest that a large public school has
its pitfalls for a boy of your son's disposition.
And I trust this leniency may not have evil con¬
sequences, but I doubt it—I greatly doubt it."
As for Dick, he ran to his father, and hung
gratefully on to his arm with a remorseful hug,
378
VICE VERSA.
a thing he had never dared to do, or thought of
attempting, in his life till then.
"Papa," he said in a choked voice, "you're
a brick! I don't deserve any of it, but I'll never
forget this as long as I live."
Mr. Bultitude, too, felt something spring up
in his heart which drew him towards the boy in
an altogether novel manner, but no o 'e will say
that either was the worse for it.
"Well," he said mildly, "prove to me that I
have made no mistake. Go back to Crichton
House now, work and play well, and try to keep
out of mischief for the rest of the term. I trust
to you," he added, in a lower tone, "while you
remain at Rodwell Regis, to keep my—my con¬
nection with it a secret; you owe that at least to
me. You may probably have—ahem, some in¬
conveniences to put up with—inconveniences you
are not prepared for. You must bear them as
your punishment."
And soon afterwards a cab was called, and
Dr. Grimstone prepared to return to Rodwell Regis,
with the deserter, by the last train.
As Paul shook hands through the cab window
with his prodigal son, he repeated his warning.
"Mind," he said, "you have been at school all this
past week; you have runaway to attend this party
you understand? Good-bye, my boy, and here's
something to put in your pocket, and, and another
for Jolland; but he need not know it comes from
me." And when Dick opened his hand afterwards,
he found two half-sovereigns in it.
THE RECKONING.
379
So the cab rolled away, and Paul went up
to the drawing-room, where, although he certainly
allowed the fireworks on the balcony and in the
garden to languish forgotten on their sticks, he
led all the other revels up to an advanced hour
with a jovial abandofi quite worthy of Dick, and
none of his little guests ever suspected the change
of host.
When it was all over, and the sleepy children
had driven oft", Paul sat down in an easy chair
by the bright fire which sparkled frostily in his
bedroom, to think gratefully over all the events
of the day—events which were beginning already
to take an unreal and fantastic shape.
Bitterly as he had suffered, and in spite of
the just anger and thirst for revenge with which
he had returned, I am glad to say he did not re¬
gret the spirit of mildness that had stayed his
hand when his hour of triumph came.
His experiences, unpleasant as they had been,
had had their advantages: they had drawn him
and his family closer together.
In his daughter Barbara, as she wished him
good-night (^knowing nothing, of course, of the
escape), he had suddenly become aware of a girlish
freshness and grace he had never looked for or
cared to see before. Roly, after this too, had a
claim upon him he could never wish to forget,
and even with the graceless Dick there was a
warmer and more natural feeling on both sides—
a strange result, no doubt, of such unfilial behaviour,
but so it was.
VICE VERSA.
Mr. Bultitude would never after this consider
his family as a set of troublesome and thankless
incumbrances; thanks to Dick's offices during the
interregnum, they would henceforth throw off" their
reserve and constraint in their father's presence,
and in so doing, open his eyes to qualities of
which lie had hitherto been in contented ignorance.
It would be pleasanter perhaps to take leave
of Mr. Bultitude thus, as he sits by his bedroom
fire in the first flush of supreme and unalloyed
content.
But I feel almost bound to point out a fact
which few will find any difficulty in accepting,
namely, that, although the wrong had been
retrieved without scandal or exposure, for which
Paul could not be too thankful, there were many
consequences which could not but survive it.
Neither father nor son found himself exactly
in the same position as before their exchange of
characters.
It took Mr. Bultitude considerable time and
trouble to repair all the damage his son's boyish
excesses had wrought both at Westbourne Terrace
and in the City. He found the discipline of his
clerks' room and counting-house sorely relaxed,
and his office-boy in particular attempted a tone
towards him of such atrocious familiarity that he
was indignantly dismissed, much to his astonish¬
ment, the very first day. And probably Paul will
never quite clear himself of the cloud that hangs
THE RECKONING.
3Sl
over a man of business who, in the course of
however well regulated a career, is known to have
been at least once "a little odd."
And his home too, was distinctly demoralised:
his cook was an artist, unrivalled at soups and
entrees; but he had to get rid of her notwith¬
standing.
It was only too evident that she looked upon
herself as the prospective mistress of his household,
and he did not feel called upon as a parent to
fulfil any expectations which Dick's youthful cup¬
board love had unintentionally excited.
For some time, as fresh proof of Dick's
extravagances came home to him, Paul found it
cost him no little effort to restrain a tendency to
his former bitterness and resentment, but he valued
the new understanding between himself and his
son too highly to risk losing it again by any open
reproach, and so with each succeeding discovery
the victory over his feelings became easier.
As for Dick, he found the inconveniences at
which his father had hinted anything but imaginary,
as will perhaps be easily understood.
It was an unpleasant shock to discover that
in one short week his father had contrived some¬
how to procure him a lasting unpopularity. Me
was obviously looked upon by all, masters and
boys, as a confirmed coward and sneak. And
although some of his companions could not fairly
reproach him on the latter score, the imputation
was particularly galling to Dick, who had always
treated such practices with sturdy contempt.
382
VICE VERSA.
] Ie was sorely tempted at times to right him¬
self by declaring the real state of the case; but he
remembered his promise and his father's un¬
expected clemency, and his gratitude always kept
him silent.
He never quite understood how it was that
the whole school seemed to have an impression
that they could kick and assault him generally with
perfect impunity; but a few very unsuccessful ex¬
periments convinced them that this was a popular
error on their part.
Although, however, in everything else he did
gradually succeed in recovering all the ground his
father had lost him, yet there was one respect in
which, I am sorry to say, he found all his efforts
to retrieve himself hopeless.
His pretty princess, with the grey eyes and
soft brown hair, cruelly refused to have anything
more to do with him. For Dulcie's pride had
been wounded by what she considered his shame¬
less perfidy on that memorable Saturday by the
parallel bars, and the last lingering traces ot
affection had vanished before Paul's ingratitude on
the following Monday, and she never forgave him.
She did not even give him an opportunity of
explaining himself, never by word or sign up to
the last day of the term showing that she was
even aware of his return. What was worse, in
her resentment she transferred her favour to Tip¬
ping, who became her humble slave for a too
brief period: after which he was found wanting in
polish, and was ignominiously thrown over for the
THE RECKONING.
3^3
shy new boy Kiffin, whose head Dick found a
certain melancholy pleasure in punching in con¬
sequence.
This was Dick's punishment, and a very real
and heavy one he found it. He is at Harrow
now, where he is doing fairly well; but I think
there are moments even yet when Dulcie's charm¬
ing little face, her pretty confidences, and her
chilling disdain, are remembered with something
as nearly resembling a heartache as a healthy un¬
sentimental boy can allow himself.
Perhaps, if some day he goes back once more
to Crichton House "to see the fellows," this time
with the mysterious glamour of a great public
school about him, he may yet obtain forgiveness,
for she is getting horribly tired of Kiffin, who,
to tell the truth, is something of a milksop.
As for the Garuda Stone, I really cannot say
what has become of it. Perhaps it was dashed
to pieces on the cobble-stones of the stables be*
hind the terrace, and a good thing too. Perhaps
it was not, and is still in existence, with all its
dangerous power as ready for use as ever it v;..-;
and in that case the best I can wish my readers
is, that they may be mercifully preserved from
finding it anywhere, or if they are unfortunate
enough to come upon it, that they at least be more
careful with it than Air. Paul Bultitude, by whose
melancholy example I trust they will take timely
warning.
And with these ve:y sincere wishes I beg to
bid them a reluctant farewell.
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