The Master of the Shell Part 10

Arthur was staking high, and would have been sadly disconcerted had his kinsman taken him at his word.

"Is your arm really hurt, Oakshott?" inquired the master.

"Oh no; not much," said Digby, wincing dramatically, and putting on an air of determined defiance to an inward agony. "I dare say I can manage, after a rest. We had taken some of the books out, so I only had the bookcase and three shelf-loads of books on the top of me! That wasn't so much!"

"How much have you written?" demanded the master.

"Two pages, please, sir."

"This time I will let that do."

"Thanks, awfully!" broke in Arthur; "you're a brick! Dig'll never do it again, will you, Dig?"

"I could do it, you know, if you really wanted," said Dig, feeling up and down his wounded limb.

"That will do!" said Mark, who had already begun to have a suspicion that he had been "done." "Clear up this mess, and don't let me hear any more noise overhead."

When he had gone, the friends embraced in a gust of jubilation.

"No end of a notion of yours!" said Dig. "That leaves the lines for the doctor and the others for Ainger. He'll keep. We'll have him in to tea and dose him with marmalade, and square him up. But, there, I must do the doctor's lines, or I shall catch it!"

And so, despite his wounded arm, he set to work, aided by his friend, and worked off about half the penalty, by which time his arm and elbow were very sore indeed. Dimsdale, who came in later, was bribed with an invitation to jam breakfast in the morning, to help with the remainder, and the same inducement prevailed upon Tilbury. So that by a fine co- operative effort Dig stood clear with the doctor before night was over, and considered himself ent.i.tled to a little rest, which he forthwith proceeded to take.

The breakfast-party next morning was a great success on the whole. It was a little marred by the fact that whereas covers were laid for four, just fourteen guests turned up. This was partly Arthur's fault, for, having sallied forth with an invitation in his pocket to anyone who would help his friend out with a few lines, he had dropped them about in a good many other quarters. He had secured the attendance of Simson and Maple of the Sh.e.l.l, and of Bateson and Jukes of the Babies, and, with a view to ingratiate himself with some of his neighbours on the first floor, he had bidden to the banquet Wake, Ranger, Wignet, and Sherriff of the Fifth, and actually prevailed upon Stafford to lend the dignity of a Sixth-form patronage to the _reunion_.

These heroes were naturally a little disgusted on turning up at the rendezvous to find the room crowded, with scarcely standing s.p.a.ce to s.p.a.ce, by a troop of hungry and noisy juniors. The good hosts perspired with the heat of the room, and, as guest after guest crowded in, began to look a little anxious at the modest fare on the table, and speculate mentally on how far one loaf, one pot of jam, four pats of b.u.t.ter, a pint coffee-pot, and three-and-a-half tea-cups would go round the lot.

At length, when Stafford arrived, and could not get in at the door for the crush, despair seized them.

"You kids had better hook it," said Arthur, to half a dozen of the juniors, who had squeezed themselves into a front rank near the table.

"There's not room to-day. Come to-morrow."

Loud were the complaints, not unmingled with threatenings and gibes, of these disappointed Babies.

"What a horrible shame!" exclaimed Jukes, in a very audible voice. "We were here first."

"Do you hear?--cut!" repeated the host.

"Come, along," said Bateson; "what's the use of bothering about a crumb and a half a-piece? I never saw such a skinny spread in all my days."

And in the ten years which comprehended Master Bateson's "days" he had had a little experience of that sort of thing.

The company being now reduced to eight, to wit, Stafford, the four Fifth-form boys, the two hosts, and Dimsdale, a.s.sumed more manageable proportions. There was room at least to move an arm or a leg, and even to shut the door. But when it came to taking seats, it still became evident that the table could by no possibility hold more than six.

Another crisis thereupon arose. Dimsdale was regretfully dismissed, and departed scarlet in the face, promising, as he slammed the door, to show "up" his hosts. These amiable worthies, much distressed, and not a whit cooler that the room was now comparatively empty, smiled feebly at this threat, and arranged to sit on one another's laps, so as to bring the company finally down to the capabilities of the table. But at this juncture Stafford, who had grown tired of waiting, and evidently saw little prospect of conviviality in the entertainment, remembered that he had some work to do before morning school, and rose to leave.

"Why, we've not begun yet," gasped his hosts.

"I really must go. Thanks for asking me. I've enjoyed it so much,"

said the amiable prefect, departing.

"Look here, I say," expostulated Arthur, "you might stay. I'll get some eggs, or a herring, if you'll stop."

But the guest of the morning was beyond reach of these blandishments, and with muttered reflections on human depravity generally, the hosts took a seat at each end of the festive board, and bade the four Fifth- form fellows fall to.

They had already done so. One had cut the loaf, another had meted out the jam, another had poured out the coffee, and another had distributed the b.u.t.ter.

"Have some coffee?" said Wake, pleasantly, to Dig; "very good stuff."

"Thanks," said Dig, trying to look grateful. "I'll wait till there's a cup to spare."

"If you're putting on the eggs," said Ranger, confidentially, to Arthur, "keep mine on an extra fifteen seconds, please. I like them a little hardish."

"Awfully sorry," said Arthur, with a quaver in his voice; "jolly unlucky, but we're out of eggs. Got none in the place."

"Oh, never mind," said Ranger, rea.s.suringly. "The herrings will do quite as well. Stafford may not fancy them, but we do, don't we, you chaps?"

"Rather," said Sheriff, thoughtfully scooping out the last remnants of the jam from the pot.

Arthur looked at the baronet and the baronet looked at Arthur. Things were growing desperate, and at all risks a diversion must be made. What could they do? Dig had a vague idea of creating a scare that Smiley had gone mad; but as the animal in question was at that moment peacefully reposing on the hearth, there seemed little probability of this panic "taking." Then he calculated the possibilities of secretly cutting away one leg of the table, and so covering the defects of the meal by an unavoidable catastrophe. But he had not his penknife about him, and the two table-knives were in use.

Arthur at this point came gallantly and desperately to the rescue.

"I say, you fellows," began he, ignoring the hint about the herrings, "do you want to know a regular lark?"

"Ha, ha!" laughed Oakshott, not having the least idea what his friend was going to say, but anxious to impress upon his guests that the joke was to be a good one.

"What is it?" asked Wignet, who never believed in anyone else's capacities for story-telling.

"Why," said Arthur, getting up a boisterous giggle, "you know Railsford, the new master?"

"Of course. What about him?"

"Well--keep it dark, you know. Shut up, Dig, and don't make me laugh, I say--there's such a grand joke about him."

"Out with it," said the guests, who were beginning to think again about the herrings.

"Well, this fellow--I call him Marky, you know--Mark's engaged to my sister, and--"

"Ha ha ha!" chimed in Dig.

"And--he calls her '_Chuckey_,' I heard him. Oh, my wig!"

This last exclamation was caused by his looking up and catching sight of Railsford standing at the door.

The Master of the Sh.e.l.l had in fact called up in a friendly way to ask how Sir Digby Oakshott's arm was after the accident of the previous night.

CHAPTER SIX.