Stalky & Co.

“With your known views on cribbing, too?” purred little Hartopp. “What an immoral compromise!”

“One moment,” said the Reverend John. “I – we – all of us have exercised an absolutely heart-breaking discretion for the last ten days. Now we want to know. Confess – have you known a happy minute since – ”

“As regards my house, I have not,” said Prout. “But you are entirely wrong in your estimate of those boys. In justice to the others – in self-defence – ”

“Ha! I said it would come to that,” murmured the Reverend John.

“ – I was forced to send them back. Their moral influence was unspeakable – simply unspeakable.”

And bit by bit he told his tale, beginning with Beetle’s usury, and ending with the house-prefects’ appeal.

“Beetle in the ro’le of Shylock is new to me,” said King, with twitching lips. “I heard rumors of it – ”

“Before?” said Prout.

“No, after you had dealt with them; but I was careful not to inquire. I never interfere with – ”

“I myself,” said Hartopp, “would cheerfully give him five shillings if he could work out one simple sum in compound interest without three gross errors.”

“Why – why – why!” Mason, the mathematical master, stuttered, a fierce joy on his face, “you’ve been had – precisely the same as me!”

“And so you held an inquiry?” Little Hartopp’s voice drowned Mason’s ere Prout caught the import of the sentence.

“The boy himself hinted at the existence of a deal of it in the house,” said Prout.

“He is past master in that line,” said the chaplain. “But, as regards the honor of the house – ”

“They lowered it in a week. I have striven to build it up for years. My own house-prefects – and boys do not willingly complain of each other – besought me to get rid of them. You say you have their confidence, Gillett: they may tell you another tale. As far as I am concerned, they may go to the devil in their own way. I’m sick and tired of them,” said Prout bitterly.

But it was the Reverend John, with a smiling countenance, who went to the devil just after Number Five had cleared away a very pleasant little brew (it cost them two and fourpence) and was settling down to prep.

“Come in, Padre, come in,” said Stalky, thrusting forward the best chair. “We’ve only met you official-like these last ten days.”

“You were under sentence,” said the Reverend John. “I do not consort with malefactors.”

“Ah, but we’re restored again,” said McTurk. “Mr. Prout has relented.”

“Without a stain on our characters,” said Beetle. “It was a painful episode, Padre, most painful.”

“Now, consider for a while, and perpend, mes enfants. It is about your characters that I’ve called to-night. In the language of the schools, what the dooce have you been up to in Mr. Prout’s house? It isn’t anything to laugh over. He says that you so lowered the tone of the house he had to pack you back to your studies. Is that true?”

“Every word of it, Padre.”

“Don’t be flippant, Turkey. Listen to me. I’ve told you very often that no boys in the school have a greater influence for good or evil than you have. You know I don’t talk about ethics and moral codes, because I don’t believe that the young of the human animal realizes what they mean for some years to come. All the same, I don’t want to think you’ve been perverting the juniors. Don’t interrupt, Beetle. Listen to me. Mr. Prout has a notion that you have been corrupting your associates somehow or other.”

“Mr. Prout has so many notions, Padre,” said Beetle wearily. “Which one is this?”

“Well, he tells me that he heard you telling a story in the twilight in the form-room, in a whisper. And Orrin said, just as he opened the door, ‘Shut up, Beetle; it’s too beastly.’ Now then?”

“You remember Mrs. Oliphant’s ‘Beleaguered City’ that you lent me last term?” said Beetle.

The Padre nodded.

“I got the notion out of that. Only, instead of a city, I made it the Coll. in a fog – besieged by ghosts of dead boys, who hauled chaps out of their beds in the dormitory. All the names are quite real. You tell it in a whisper, you know with the names. Orrin didn’t like it one little bit. None of ‘em have ever let me finish it. It gets just awful at the end part.”

“But why in the world didn’t you explain to Mr. Prout, instead of leaving him under the impression – ?”

“Padre Sahib,” said McTurk, “it isn’t the least good explainin’ to Mr. Prout. If he hasn’t one impression, he’s bound to have another.”

“He’d do it with the best o’ motives. He’s in loco parentis,” purred Stalky.

“You young demons!” the Reverend John replied. “And am I to understand that the – the usury business was another of your house-master’s impressions?”

“Well – we helped a little in that,” said Stalky. “I did owe Beetle two and fourpence at least, Beetle says I did, but I never intended to pay him. Then we started a bit of an argument on the stairs, and – and Mr. Prout dropped into it accidental. That was how it was, Padre. He paid me cash down like a giddy Dook (stopped it out of my pocket-money just the same), and Beetle gave him my note-of-hand all correct. I don’t know what happened after that.”

“I was too truthful,” said Beetle. “I always am. You see, he was under an impression, Padre, and I suppose I ought to have corrected that impression; but of course I couldn’t be quite certain that his house wasn’t given over to money-lendin’, could I? I thought the house-prefects might know more about it than I did. They ought to. They’re giddy palladiums of public schools.”

“They did, too – by the time they’d finished,” said McTurk. “As nice a pair of conscientious, well-meanin’, upright, pure-souled boys as you’d ever want to meet, Padre. They turned the house upside down – Harrison and Craye – with the best motives in the world.”

“They said so. ‘They said it very loud and clear. They went and shouted in our ear,’” said Stalky.

“My own private impression is that all three of you will infallibly be hanged,” said the Reverend John.

“Why, we didn’t do anything,” McTurk replied. “It was all Mr. Prout. Did you ever read a book about Japanese wrestlers? My uncle – he’s in the Navy – gave me a beauty once.”

“Don’t try to change the subject, Turkey.”

“I’m not, sir. I’m givin’ an illustration – same as a sermon. These wrestler-chaps have got sort sort of trick that lets the other chap do all the work. Than they give a little wriggle, and he upsets himself. It’s called shibbuwichee or tokonoma, or somethin’. Mr. Prout’s a shibbuwicher. It isn’t our fault.”

“Did you suppose we went round corruptin’ the minds of the fags?” said Beetle. “They haven’t any, to begin with; and if they had, they’re corrupted long ago. I’ve been a fag, Padre.”

“Well, I fancied I knew the normal range of your iniquities; but if you take so much trouble to pile up circumstantial evidence against yourselves, you can’t blame any one if – ”

“We don’t blame any one, Padre. We haven’t said a word against Mr. Prout, have we?” Stalky looked at the others. “We love him. He hasn’t a notion how we love him.”

“H’m! You dissemble your love very well. Have you ever thought who got you turned out of your study in the first place?”

“It was Mr. Prout turned us out,” said Stalky, with significance.

“Well, I was that man. I didn’t mean it; but some words of mine, I’m afraid, gave Mr. Prout the impression – ”

Number Five laughed aloud.

“You see it’s just the same thing with you, Padre,” said McTurk. “He is quick to get an impression, ain’t he? But you mustn’t think we don’t love him, ‘cause we do. There isn’t an ounce of vice about him.”

A double knock fell on the door.

“The Head to see Number Five study in his study at once,” said the voice of Foxy, the school sergeant.