The Hero of Garside School Part 17

But more by chance than design Arbery laid profane hands on it, and dragging it out with the rest, turned it over and over, something after the style of a porter with the luggage at a railway terminus in the busy season.

b.u.mpety--b.u.mpety! It seemed to Plunger, so far as he had any sensation at all, that he was performing the part of a human catherine-wheel.

"My!" he gasped. "What are the a.s.ses doing with the box? I shall be most frightfully sick if they don't stop it."

b.u.mpety--b.u.mpety--b.u.mpety!

"Oh, oh! What an idiot I was to get inside this coffin; it'll be the death of me!"

Arbery and Leveson gave another jerk to the box even as Plunger was groaning within.

"It--it--it's worse than being on the Great Wheel, or on a pleasure boat when there's a sea on. Oh, my--oh dear! When are the silly fellows going to stop it?" he moaned.

At last they did stop it, almost beneath the identical window on which Moncrief minor had traced Plunger's n.o.ble features.

"That's about the ticket, isn't it, Arbery? My, it's hot work! Didn't think that old box was so heavy. You'd fancy it was stuffed with lead instead of broken bats and rubbish of that sort. Phew!"

Leveson wiped his forehead with his handkerchief.

"Yes; that's the thing. It'll give an extra seat or two, if they're wanted."

"My word! They're going to sit on me," groaned Plunger. His groans were cut short by a loud outburst of laughter from Arbery.

"What's the lunatic laughing at now?" thought Plunger.

"Hold me up, Levy!" Arbery in rising from the box had caught sight of the caricature of Plunger on the window, and burst into a fit of laughter. "Do you see it--do you see who it's meant for?"

Leveson, for answer, likewise broke into a peal of laughter.

"The other lunatic's going it now," Plunger muttered to himself. "Seems to me I've hopped into an asylum instead of a box. There's a screw loose in one of 'em. My! Aren't they going it. Wish I could get a peep out of this beastly timber yard. I'd like to see what they're grinning at. Hark at 'em. They're off again."

At last Leveson stopped.

"See it," he cried. "Who could help it? Jolly good, isn't it? Like the young bounder to a T--the same nose, the same coa.r.s.e wiry thatch, the same eyebrows running away from the forehead into the middle of next week."

The perspiration began to ooze from Plunger. He had an uneasy feeling as to whom they were referring.

"Young bounder!" he repeated. "Coa.r.s.e, wiry thatch, eyebrows running away from the forehead. Leveson thinks that awfully smart, I s'pose?

Still it--it--must be a bit like."

Plunger had the additional pleasure of hearing more laughter at his expense as other scholars of the Fifth entered, and added their criticisms to Leveson's. Plunger's ears tingled as they had never tingled before, for never before had he heard himself so freely criticised. In addition to the not very flattering remarks "the bounders of the Fifth" had to pa.s.s on his features, Plunger had to listen to terse descriptions of himself as "that a.s.s, Plunger," "a mixed pickle,"

"a queer egg," "conceited young biped," and so on.

Plunger made remarks of his own as these pleasant criticisms reached his ears. They were scarcely less vigorous than those descriptive of himself, and were fairly divided between "those bounders of the Fifth"

and "the fellow who had scratched things" on the window. But unfortunately Plunger's eloquence was wasted, as neither the "bounders of the Fifth" nor "the fellow who scratched things on the window" had the advantage of hearing it. His attention was soon turned from himself, however, to the proceedings that were taking place in the shed.

There were about twenty in the Fifth. Nineteen put in an appearance.

Hasluck, as head of the Form, took up his place at the rostrum, while most of the others sat on the boxes which had been arranged for their convenience by Arbery and Leveson, who were known as M.C.'s--masters of ceremonies--of the Form.

"All here?" asked Hasluck, after bringing down his mallet on the box before him.

"All--except Moncrief," answered Leveson.

The absence of Moncrief had been noticed with some surprise by the Form, by none more than Newall.

"Is he coming, does any one know? If so, we'll wait a little longer."

"No; he isn't coming," answered Paul. "He wanted to; but I persuaded him to stop away."

"You persuaded him to stop away," cried Newall. "Why, it's because of him we've come here."

"Excuse me," answered Paul politely. "It's because of me. At any rate, it's for the Form to decide."

"Percival called the Form together. It's for Percival to explain," said Hasluck.

"I'll explain as well as I can," said Paul, taking a step forward, and glancing round at the faces bent eagerly forward to hear him. "There was a slight s.h.i.+ndy, as you all know, on the first day of term, between Newall and Stanley Moncrief."

"s.h.i.+ndy!" interrupted Newall with a scornful sniff. "Is that all you call it?"

"Call it by what name you please; I don't mind," proceeded Paul calmly.

"Newall baited Moncrief's cousin unmercifully, and Moncrief did what any other fellow in the Form worth his salt would have done--interfered. I tried to get between him and Newall to stop the quarrel. You know what happened--Newall was struck."

"Yes, Newall was struck," repeated Newall grimly.

"Yes; but after all Moncrief had a good deal the worst of it. He pa.s.sed the night in Dormitory X--ten times worse punishment than anything Newall got; so he more than wiped out the blow he gave in anger to Newall."

"Oh, stop this humbug," interrupted Newall angrily. "You can see what Percival's up to. He's trying to white-wash Moncrief, who's too big a funk to come here to defend himself."

There were murmurs of a.s.sent from some of those present, who resented Moncrief's absence, and who were not favourably inclined to a tame ending of the quarrel. The more thoughtful section remained silent.

"It would have been better, I think, for Moncrief to have been here,"

said Hasluck. And this view was received with applause.

"If there's any blame for that," said Paul quickly, "blame me. As I've said, I persuaded him to stay away. With Moncrief here and Newall here, it would have been like two barrels of gunpowder. Just a spark, and--phwitt! bang--where should we all have been? There'd have been nothing left of us."

This time Paul carried his audience with him. They were well aware that Moncrief was hasty in temper, and that Newall was no less fiery. So they smiled at Paul's description of what might probably have happened if the two had been present.

"Besides, as I've already pointed out to Newall," continued Paul, "if there's a quarrel at all, it lies between me and him."

"Stuff--gammon--more humbug!" interrupted Newall angrily.

"That's what you think," said Paul, confronting him steadily for a moment. "After all, you only count as one. That's why I've called the Form, who count a good deal more, so that they could give their opinion.

Whatever their opinion is, I'll stand to it."

"You will!" cried Newall. "That's all I want. I know well enough they won't let Moncrief wriggle out of it."

"How do you make out that the quarrel has s.h.i.+fted from Moncrief to you, Percival?" demanded Hasluck. "I can't quite see it."

More murmurs of a.s.sent.