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twg_000000049600 | wrath; "as if we couldn't smash them without! Look here, I'd give--I'd give sixpence if we could win!" and with this burst of patriotic enthusiasm the speaker hurried away to join Maxton, who, with an old sprung racquet in one hand and the inside of an exploded cricket-ball in the other, was calling to him from the adjoining playing field | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000049601 | to "Come and play tip and run, and bring something that'll do for a wicket." The feelings expressed by "Rats" as regards the result of the match were shared by the whole school, and by none more so than the members of the Third Form. "The Happy Family" turned up to a man, and encamped _en masse_ upon the turf | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000049602 | within twenty yards of the pavilion. Bibbs was the last to arrive on the scene of action, and did so with a bag of sweets in one hand, a n the other, and a piece of paper, pinned by some joker to the tail of his coat, bearing the legend, "Please to kick me"--a request which was immediately responded to | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000049603 | in a most hearty and generous fashion by all present. Kicking the unfortunate Bibbs afforded every one such exquisite enjoyment that an effort was made to prolong the pastime by forcible attempts to fasten the placard on to other members of the company, and a general _melee_, would have followed if the attention of the combatants had not been attracted | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000049604 | in another direction. Ronleigh having won the toss and elected to go in first, the Wraxby men strolled out of the pavilion to take the field. They were a likely-looking lot of fellows--the faded flannel caps and careless way in which they sauntered towards the pitch proclaiming the fact that each one was a veteran player. "That chap with the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000049605 | wicket-keeping gloves in his hand is Partridge, their captain," said Carton; "and that fellow who's putting out the single stump to bowl at is Austin. He does put them in to some tune; you can hardly see the ball, it's so swift." There was a faint _clang_ from the pitch. "See that!" cried Fletcher junior: "that chap Austin's knocked that | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000049606 | single stump out of the ground first ball. My eye, he'll make our fellows sit up, I'll bet." "No, he won't," cried "Rats" excitedly. "Old Ally'll knock him into a cocked hat. He'll soon break his back," added the speaker complaisantly. "Hullo! men in--Parkes and Rowland." There is something in the short space of time preceding the first _clack_ of | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000049607 | the bat at a cricket match which rivals in interest even that exciting moment at football when the centre forward stands hovering over the ball waiting for the whistle to give the signal for the contest to commence. The noisy clatter of "The Happy Family" ceases as the crowd of boys, ranged all down the sides of the field, turn | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000049608 | to watch the opening of the game. It is an ideal day for cricket, with a fresh breeze blowing, just sufficient to temper the hot afternoon sunshine and cause a flutter of cricket-shirts and boundary flags. Rowland takes centre, twists the handle of his bat round and round in his hands, and is heard amid the general hush to say, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000049609 | "No, no trial." Austin glances round at the motionless figures of his comrades, signals to _long-on_ to stand a little deeper, and then delivers the ball. With an easy and graceful forward stroke, the batsman returns it sharply in the direction of the opposite wicket, and an almost imperceptible movement, like the releasing of a spring, takes place among the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000049610 | fielders. So begins the battle. "Twenty up!" had just been called from the pavilion when a sharp catch in the slips disposed of Parkes. "Never mind!" cried "Rats." "Here comes old Ally; he'll make them trot round a bit!" The captain commenced his innings with a heart-warming leg hit, which sent the ball to the boundary, a wave of legs | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000049611 | and arms marking its track as the spectators, with a joyous yell, rolled over one another to escape being hit. For some time cheer followed cheer, and "The Happy Family" clapped until their hands smarted; then suddenly there arose a prolonged "_Oh, oh!_" from all the field. "Hullo! what's the matter?" asked Bibbs, looking up from the book he was | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000049612 | reading. "What's the matter?" shouted Maxton wrathfully, snatching away the volume and banging Bibbs on the head with it. "Why don't you watch the game? Old Ally's bowled off his pads!" It was only too true: the captain's wicket was down, and "The Happy Family," after a simultaneous ejaculation of "_Blow it!_" tore up stalks of grass, and began to | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000049613 | chew them with a stern expression on their faces. This disaster seemed but the forerunner of others. Redfern, the next man, had hardly taken his place at the wicket when a sharp _click_, the glitter of bails twirling in the air, and a Wraxby shout of "Well bowled!" announced his fate; while ten minutes later Rowland, one of the mainstays | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000049614 | of the home team, was caught in a most provoking manner at _cover-point_. "Oh, bother it all!" sighed "Rats; this is nothing but a procession." "Now, Oaks, old chap, do your best for us!" cried Allingford. "All right," returned the other, laughing, as he paused for a moment outside the pavilion to fasten the strap of his batting-glove; "I'm going | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000049615 | to make runs this journey, or die in the attempt." Oaks was undoubtedly a regular Briton, just the sort of fellow to turn the fortunes of a losing game. He walked up to the wicket as coolly as though it were enclosed within a practice net, patted down the ground with the flat of his bat in a manner which | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000049616 | seemed to imply that he had "come to stay," and then proceeded to hit three twos in his first "over." This dashing commencement was but the prelude to a brilliant bit of rapid scoring: twos and threes followed each other in quick succession. Allingford shouted, the crowd roared, while "The Happy Family" gambolled about on one another's chests and stomachs, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000049617 | and squealed with delight. Like the poet's brook, Oaks might have exclaimed, "Men may come, and men may go, but I go on for ever." When Wraxby changed the bowling, he welcomed the new-comer by sending the first ball into the next field, and continued to cut and drive in such a gallant manner that even Bibbs, standing up to | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000049618 | get the full use of his lungs, shouted, "Go 'long!" and "Well hit!" until his face was the colour of a poppy. "I say!" exclaimed Carton, as the eighth wicket fell, "I wish one of these next two chaps would hang on a bit, and give Oaks a chance of getting a few more; it must be nearly eighty up." | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000049619 | "Thurston, you're in!" came from the scorer. The boy named was sitting by himself, on the end of a form close to the telegraph, moodily scraping up the ground with the spikes of his cricket-shoes. He knew that most of his comrades in the eleven would give him the cold shoulder, and so did not mingle with them inside the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000049620 | pavilion. He rose, and prepared to obey the summons. "Let's give him a cheer," said Rats; "he may do something.--Go it, Thurston! Sit tight, and keep the pot boiling!" The big fellow turned his head in the direction of "The Happy Family," and with something of the old good-humoured smile, which had seldom of late been seen upon his face, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000049621 | answered: "All right, my boy, you see if I don't." "Jolly fellow old Thirsty," remarked "Rats," swelling with pride at this friendly recognition. "He can play when he likes, but he hasn't troubled to practise much of late. He used always--Phew! my eye, what an awful crack!" A terrifically swift ball from Austin had risen suddenly from the hard ground. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000049622 | Thurston had no time to avoid it, but turning away his face, received the blow on the back of his head. He dropped his bat, staggered away from the wicket, and fell forward on his knees. To suffer for the cause of the school in a cricket or football match was a thing which, like charity, "covered a multitude of | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000049623 | sins." Allingford hurried out of the pavilion and ran towards the pitch, while Partridge and a few more of the "Wraxby men gathered round their wounded opponent and helped him to his feet. "You'd better come out, Thurston," said the Ronleigh captain; "I'll send the next man in." "No, I'll go on," replied the other, in rather a shaky voice; | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000049624 | "I shall be all right in a minute." It requires something more than ordinary pluck for a batsman to stand up to fast bowling and show good form after having been badly hit. For a time a great deal of determination, and the exercise of a considerable amount of will power, are necessary to conquer the natural inclination to shrink | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000049625 | from a possible repetition of the injury; and those who watched the dogged manner in which Thurston continued to defend his wicket, being themselves practical cricketers, rewarded him with loud shouts of encouragement and praise. Oaks piled on the score with unflagging energy, while the careful play of his companion defied all attempts of the Wraxby bowlers to dissolve the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000049626 | partnership. "Bravo, 'Thirsty!'" shouted the spectators. "Go 'long'--and another!" At length, just as the telegraph operator had received the welcome order, "A hundred up!" the ball shot, and crashed into Thurston's wicket. He came slowly back from the pitch, still holding his hand to the back of his head; and though his individual score had barely run into double figures, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000049627 | he was greeted on all sides with hearty cheers. Payne, the last man, just succeeded in cracking his _duck's-egg_, and the innings closed for . As the fielders came trooping in, a small boy ran past the Third Form encampment exclaiming, "I say, you chaps, old Punch is in the lower road, over by that tree!" Which announcement had no | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000049628 | sooner been made than the greater part of "The Happy Family" sprang to their feet, and went scampering across the field in the direction of the opposite hedge. The cause of this stampede, it must be explained, was the arrival of an itinerant vendor of ice-cream, whose real name, Samuel Jones, had been changed to Punch on account of the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000049629 | prominence of his nasal organ. His presence within the grounds of Ronleigh College was not approved of by the authorities, and his trade with the small boys, who were his particular patrons, was carried on through a gap in the hedge. Punch's establishment ran on four wheels, and was ornamented with a number of daubs representing Union Jacks and Royal | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000049630 | Standards, which formed the framework of an alarming portrait of the Prince of Wales, from which adornment one might be led to suppose that on some previous occasion His Royal Highness had patronized the stall. The ice-cream was shovelled out of a tin receptacle, and pasted in lumps on to the top of very shallow glasses, the standard price for | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000049631 | which was one penny; and there being a scarcity of spoons, the customers usually devoured the delicacy in the same manner as a dog does a saucer of milk. Cynical members of the upper classes at Ronleigh, who had ceased to patronize the stall, charged Punch with not being over-particular in washing the glasses, and of making the "stuff," as | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000049632 | they called it, with cornflour instead of cream. But the small boys were not fastidious; and as each one had two helpings, which they ate as slowly as possible to prolong the enjoyment, they were still refreshing themselves when the home team moved out to field. "Look sharp!" cried "Rats," giving Bibbs's elbow a sudden jerk which caused that worthy | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000049633 | to plaster the end of his nose with the remains of his third ice. "Come on! let's see the beginning." The second half of the game proved, if anything, more exciting than the first. Two wickets fell before appeared on the telegraph. "Oh, we shall lick them easily!" cried "Rats" jubilantly; while Fletcher junior gave vent to his feelings by | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000049634 | handing Bibbs's bag of sweets round to the company. But there were still some hard nuts to be cracked in the Wraxby team, and one soon appeared in Partridge, the captain. Over after over went by, and the score rapidly increased: "Thirty up!"--"Forty up!"--"Fifty up!" Two more wickets were taken; but Partridge seemed to have fairly got his eye in, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000049635 | and gave the home team as much leather-hunting as Oaks had provided for the visitors. To make matters worse, Austin, arriving on the scene sixth man in, appeared to be also possessed with a determination to carry his bat; and though he was eventually run out by a sharp throw-in from square-leg, it was not until eighty runs had been | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000049636 | registered for the Grammar School. The closing scene of the game caused an amount of excitement unparalleled in the history of Ronleigh cricket. As the last man of the Wraxby team went in to bat, the telegraph was changed from to . "Over" had just been called, and the invincible Partridge stepped forward to play, evidently making up his mind | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000049637 | for another boundary hit. Thurston had been put on to bowl at the top end, and stood ready to recommence the attack. "Four to equal, five to beat," sighed "Rats." "Bother it all, they're sure to win." A cricket match needs to be very narrowly watched, or the spectator whose eye has strayed for a moment from the game misses | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000049638 | some fine piece of play. The incident which finished the contest between Ronleigh College and Wraxby Grammar School occupied barely three seconds of time; yet it was remembered and spoken about many years after those concerned in it had passed on to swell the ranks of the "old boys." Partridge commenced the over with a hard, straight drive, and at | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000049639 | the same instant Thurston gave a little jump into the air with his right arm stretched above his head. The ball had passed like lightning between the wickets, and the spectators looked for a moment to see where it had gone; then a wild shriek of joy from "The Happy Family" rent the air,-- "_Caught!_" It was true enough. With | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000049640 | a splendid one-handed catch Thurston had brought the well-fought contest to a close, and secured a victory for Ronleigh College. This brilliant feat, coupled with the gallant manner in which he had continued his innings when hurt, and so enabled Oaks to run up the score, caused the black sheep of the Sixth Form to be regarded as the hero | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000049641 | of the day. Allingford shook him by the hand, and a noisy crowd hoisted him shoulder high and carried him three times round the quadrangle. Thurston certainly had good reason to feel proud of the part he had played in the chief match of the season, and might in years to come have always looked back with pleasure on this | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000049642 | twenty-fourth of July. Unfortunately another event of a sadly different character was destined to make it a red-letter day in his career at Ronleigh. The feeling of respect and good-will which his prowess in the field had awakened in the minds of his former friends afforded him a splendid opportunity for reassociating himself with all that was worthy and honourable | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000049643 | in school life. The chance no sooner presented itself, however, than it was flung away, and was lost for ever. Evening preparation was over, and supper, an informal meal, attendance at which was not compulsory, was in progress. The door of Thurston's study was once more locked on the inside, as it had been when Diggory went to return the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000049644 | match-box to its rightful owner. Fletcher senior, Hawley, and Gull sat on three sides of the small table, while Thurston himself occupied the fourth. "Hang it all!" exclaimed the latter, throwing down a handful of playing cards upon the table, and pushing back his chair. "I shan't play any more to-night; I've got no more tin." "Oh, go on; I'll | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000049645 | lend you some," answered Fletcher. "I don't care whether I win or lose; it's only the game I play for." As a matter of fact, Fletcher nearly always _did_ win, and was mightily displeased on the rare occasions when he lost. "No; I've borrowed enough already," returned the other. "I shan't be able to square up as it is till | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000049646 | next term. It's all very well for fellows like you three, who have rich people, and can write home any time for a fiver; but I'm not so flush of cash.--Look here, Gull, have you got that banjo? Sing us a song." "All right," answered Gull, reaching down and picking a small five-stringed instrument off the floor; "what'll you have?" | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000049647 | "Oh, something with a good swing to it. I feel like kicking up a row." Gull tuned up, struck a few chords, and then launched out into a rattling nigger song with an amount of "go" and clatter sufficient to inspire the hearer with an almost irresistible desire to get up and dance. The three listeners shouted the chorus at | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000049648 | the top of their voices, pounding the table with their fists by way of a sort of drum accompaniment. Gull was just preparing to commence the fourth verse when there was a knock at the study door. "Wait a jiff," said Thurston.--"Who's there? What d'you want?" "Why," came the answer, uttered in rather a drawling tone, "I wish you fellows | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000049649 | wouldn't make so much row. I can't possibly work. Do be quiet." "Oh, go to Bath!" shouted Thurston.--"It's only that old stew-pot Browse," he added. "The beggar's got the next study, and he's cramming up for some 'exam.'--Go on, Gull." The entertainment continued, and waxed more noisy than ever, the performers hammering the table with a ruler and two walking-sticks | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000049650 | to add zest to the choruses. Soon there came another interruption, very different in tone from the mild expostulation of the studious Browse. The door was violently shaken, and from without came the sharp, peremptory order of the school captain,-- "Look here, Thurston, just shut up; we've had enough of this horrible row for one night. Stop it, d'you hear?" | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000049651 | "All right," growled the owner of the study; "keep your hair on, old fellow!" "Sh! steady on, Thirsty," said Fletcher, in a low tone. "Don't go too far, or he'll put a stop to our next merry meeting. I know Allingford, and he's rather a hard wall to run your head against." "That confounded old Browse has gone and sneaked!" | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000049652 | cried the other, with a flush of passion on his face. "Let's wait till Ally's gone, and then make a raid on the old stew-pot." Hawley and Gull sprang to their feet with a murmur of assent; Fletcher shrugged his shoulders and remained silent. "What we'll do is this," continued Thurston. "He sits with his back to the door. I'll | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000049653 | pop in first and throw this tablecloth over his head; then, while I hold him down, you chaps upset the things and put out the light. Then we'll rush out all together, and he won't know for certain who did it." Five minutes later the conspirators crept out into the passage, and tip-toed towards the door of the adjoining study. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000049654 | Fletcher lingered behind, and, instead of following the expedition, stole softly away in the opposite direction. Another moment, and the unfortunate Browse was struggling to rise from his chair, with his head enveloped in the tablecloth. Hawley and Gull, following immediately in rear of their leader, sent the table, with its load of books and writing materials, over with a | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000049655 | crash, threw the chairs into different corners of the room, and were about to scatter the contents of the bookcase over the floor, when Allingford suddenly burst into the room, and stood glaring round like an angry lion. With one swing of his right arm he sent Thurston staggering against the wall, and then, stepping forward without an instant's hesitation, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000049656 | he dealt each of the other marauders a swinging box on the ear. The two Fifth Form boys were big, strong fellows, and for a moment it seemed as though a stand-up fight would ensue. The captain, however, followed up his attack with amazing promptness, and before his antagonists had time to think of resistance he had taken them both | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000049657 | by the shoulders and sent them flying into the passage. "There!" he exclaimed. "I'll teach you gentlemen to come playing pranks on Sixth Form studies. What business have you got here, I should like to know?--As for you," continued the speaker, casting a scornful glance at the originator of the outrage, "I should have thought a fellow who's a prefect | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000049658 | ought to know better than to go rioting with every scamp in the school." Thurston's conduct on the cricket field had clearly proved him to be no coward. He stood his ground, and returned Allingford's angry glances with a look of fierce defiance. He attempted to make some reply, but somehow the words failed him, and turning on his heel | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000049659 | he walked away to his own study. "Confound that fellow Fletcher!" he muttered between his teeth. "He always takes precious good care to sneak away when there's any row on. If it wasn't for that money I owe him, I'd punch his head." Half an hour later there was a sharp rap at the door, and Allingford, Oaks, and Acton | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000049660 | entered the room. "Well," said Thurston, looking up with a frown from the book he was reading, "what d'you want now? I don't remember asking you fellows to come and see me. A chap can't call his study his own nowadays." "No," answered Acton grimly. "If a chap wants to work, a lot of blackguards come and wreck his furniture." | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000049661 | "Look here, Thurston," said the captain coldly, "we've no wish to stay here longer than we can help. We've come simply to tell you this--that after what's happened to-night the prefects are determined that to-morrow morning you send in your resignation to the doctor." "And supposing I don't choose to send in my resignation?" returned the other. "Then," answered the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000049662 | captain calmly, "we shall send it in for you." There was a moment's silence; then Thurston rose from his chair, and closing his book flung it down with a bang upon the table. "All right," he said; "I'll do it. You fellows have been set against me from the first. I know all about it, and before I leave this | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000049663 | place I'll pay you out." "I almost wish we'd left it till after the holidays," said Oaks, as the three prefects walked down the passage. "No," said Allingford firmly; "if we hesitate, and the fellows see it, we're lost. It must be done at once." "Well, perhaps so," answered Oaks; "but I'll tell you this--Thurston means mischief. I wish he | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000049664 | was going to leave. He won't forget this in a hurry, and my belief is we shall hear more about it next term." . THE ELECTIONS. Thurston's resignation, as might have been expected, gave rise to a considerable amount of excitement and conflicting opinion. Nearly every boy in the school saw clearly that he was both unworthy and unfitted to | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000049665 | fulfil the duties of a prefect, but the peculiar circumstances under which he had, as "Rats" put it, been given "notice to quit," caused a large number of his schoolfellows to side with him, and condemn the action of the captain. Only a few of the general public knew exactly what the row had been. The Sixth Form authorities, refusing | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000049666 | to be catechized, would answer no questions; while the other side took good care to spread abroad a very one-sided account of the affair. The Wraxby match was fresh in everybody's mind. "Awfully hard lines I call it," said the cricketers. "He won that game for us; why didn't they let him go on a few days more till the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000049667 | end of the term?" While those young gentlemen, of whom a few are to be found in every school, who cherish a strong dislike to anything in the shape of law and order, were, of course, loud in their expressions of dissatisfaction at the removal of one who always winked at their transgressions. At the commencement of the winter session | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000049668 | it soon became evident that seven weeks of summer holiday had not dispelled the cloud which had overshadowed the close of the previous term. No sooner had the first excitement of meeting and settling down subsided a little than the question of Thurston's deposal cropped up again, and caused an unusual amount of interest to be felt by all Ronleigh | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000049669 | in the forthcoming elections. Every school has its own methods of choosing those who are to fill the posts and offices in connection with its various institutions, and it will be well to describe, in a few words, how this was done at Ronleigh, in order that the reader may follow with greater interest the working out of an important | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000049670 | event in the history of the college. The elections took place twice a year--at the commencement of the summer and winter terms--their chief object being to appoint what was known as the Sports Committee (who had the management of athletics and of the forthcoming cricket or football season), two librarians, and a keeper of the reading-room. In addition to this, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000049671 | when any of the prefects left, fresh ones were chosen in their places. Only members of the Sixth Form were eligible for this office, which was not conferred before the choice of the boys had been confirmed by the sanction of the head-master, and was understood to last for the remainder of the recipient's school life. On the second or | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000049672 | third morning of the term a paper was posted up on the notice-board in the big schoolroom, announcing the fact that the elections would take place two days later, and mentioning exactly what each voter was required to do. Every boy who had been two terms at the school received a voting paper, which he filled up at his leisure | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000049673 | and handed over to the returning officers at a special assembly called for the purpose. At the commencement of this particular winter term the school reassembled on a Tuesday, and on Thursday notice was given that the elections would take place on the following Saturday afternoon. According to the usual custom, when fresh prefects were to be chosen, the names | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000049674 | of all the Sixth Form boys who were not already holding that office were mentioned on the notice, to show who were eligible for the position. Thurston's name did not appear on the list; some one added it in pencil, another hand crossed it out, and an hour or two later it was added again, this time in red ink. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000049675 | This simple action seemed the signal for a general agitation on Thurston's behalf. His friends throughout the school openly proclaimed their intention of voting for him, and exhorted others to do the same. Almost to a man the Sixth and Remove sided with the captain, but Hawley and Gull in the Fifth, Noaks and Mouler in the Upper Fourth, and | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000049676 | other fellows in the lower forms made up their minds to secure Thurston's return, and set to work to carry out their project with a zeal worthy of a better cause. Two fresh prefects were required, and the friends of law and order were unanimous in naming Fielding and Parkes as the most suitable candidates to fill the vacancies. Rival | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000049677 | posters appeared on the double doors leading to the playground:-- REMEMBER THE WRAXBY MATCH, AND VOTE FOR THURSTON. PLUMP FOR PARKES, AND HAVE A PROPER PREFECT. But this method of carrying on the campaign was soon brought into disrepute, owing to the fact that certain juveniles, seeing in this new idea of bill-posting a fresh field for practical joking, began | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000049678 | to adorn the walls of the "grub-room," and other spaces which did not often come under the eye of a master, with placards exhibiting inscriptions which had no bearing on the elections--such irrelevant remarks as, "nooks Two wants kicking !" or, "_Lost_-my wits. (Signed) B. BIBBS," being calculated to occasion a considerable amount of strife and bad blood without serving | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000049679 | any useful purpose. The Lower School was in a fever heat of excitement, and it is quite possible that the little pleasantries which have just been alluded to were occasioned by difference of opinion on the one absorbing topic of the day. The close of the previous holidays had witnessed a general parliamentary election, and with the details of contests | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000049680 | which had taken place in their native towns vividly impressed upon their minds, the younger boys, from the Lower Fourth downwards, threw themselves into the present conflict with an amount of energy and spirit which was not to be found in the more sober and deliberate action of their seniors. The greater number of the old "Happy Family" had now | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000049681 | been removed into the Lower Fourth, and this form in particular was rent with opposing views, and shaken with continued outbursts of hostility between the rival factions. The Triple Alliance were loyal to the old _regime_, and were supported by "Rats," Carton, and several of their old friends. "Acton saved us from getting into a row after that 'coffee-mill' business," | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000049682 | remarked Diggory. "Rowland gave Noaks a dressing down when he hit me in the mouth," said Jack Vance. "And old Ally boxed Mouler's ears when they made me upset that paint," added Mugford. "Rats" declared that he meant to conduct what he called a "house-to-house visitation," and accordingly, beginning at the bottom of the form, the first person he called | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000049683 | upon was Grundy, a great lout of sixteen, who had been at the tail end of the Lower Fourth for the last twelve months. As it happened, Grundy was a strong partisan of the opposite side, and not only refused to vote for Parkes, but, seizing hold of the unfortunate canvasser, proceeded to twist his arms and pinch his ears | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000049684 | for daring to oppose the election of Thurston. Fletcher Two, whose sympathies, as might have been expected, were with his brother's chum, organized open-air meetings in one corner of the field where the big cricket-roller could be used as a platform. But here, again, the love of larking which is so characteristic of the lawless small boy came into evidence, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000049685 | and with that touch of nature which makes the whole world kin, friend and foe alike joined in the spree of interrupting the proceedings. Just when the orator had reached the most important point in his harangue, and was pouring forth a torrent of impassioned eloquence, the platform would begin to move, or the audience would insist on turning the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000049686 | gathering into an imaginary "scrum," and almost crushing the life out of those who happened to be in the middle of the crowd. Poor Bibbs especially became a target for the humour of the electors. According to Fletcher's instructions, he had written out a speech and learned it by heart; but though he was being continually called upon to deliver | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000049687 | it, he never got beyond the opening "Ahem! Gentlemen," before a sudden movement of the platform precipitated him into the arms of his irreverent hearers, or a shout of "Play up at the cocoa-nuts!" followed by a shower of acorns, bits of stick, and pieces of turf, caused him to jump down and hastily seek shelter behind the roller. For | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000049688 | two days, especially in the Lower School, the excitement continued steadily to increase, and small boys being seized in out-of-the-way corners were made to assert at one time that they would vote for Thurston, and at another that they would vote for Parkes or Fielding, and so, in order to escape with a whole skin, were forced to commit perjury | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000049689 | at least a dozen times between the hours of breakfast and tea. One incident, which as far as the Lower Fourth was concerned tended considerably to embitter the contest, is worthy of record as a notable feature of this memorable campaign. The occupants of dormitory No. were rabid Thurstonians; dormitory No. , on the other hand, in which slept the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000049690 | Triple Alliance, Maxton, "Rats," and Carton, were to a man supporters of Parkes and Fielding. On Friday evening the two doors, which were exactly opposite to each other, being left open, the process of undressing was enlivened by a continual fire of abuse and insulting remarks, which might have led to a regular scrimmage between the two parties if the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000049691 | presence of the prefect, patrolling the passage, had not prevented either side from advancing beyond the threshold of their own doorway. "I wouldn't vote for a chap like Thurston, who goes boozing in a common 'pub' like the Black Swan," cried "Rats;" "but that's just the sort of man for you. You're a cheap lot, the whole crew of you!" | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000049692 | "Look here, young 'Rats,'" retorted Fletcher junior from the opposite room, wandering rather wide of the subject in hand. "Why don't you write home and ask your people to buy you a new pair of braces, instead of mending those old ones up with string? You look just like a young street arab, and that's about what you are!" "Don't | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000049693 | you fellows talk about broken braces, and looking like street arabs," cried Diggory, "when only yesterday old Greyling sent Stokes out of class and told him to go down to the lavatory and wash his face. That's a sample of you Thurstonians!" "Look here!" shouted the boy alluded to, springing out of bed, and appearing in his night-shirt at the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000049694 | opposite end of the dormitory. "You know very well that Grundy flipped a pen full of ink over me, and that was why I had to go out and wash my face." "I know you looked altogether a different fellow when you came back," returned Jack Vance: "I hardly knew you!" There was a momentary pause in the discussion, and | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000049695 | Bibbs, thinking this a suitable opportunity for the delivery of his speech, stepped forward, and took up his stand in the doorway. Hardly, however, had he pronounced the opening "Ahem! Gentlemen," when a cake of soap, flung by Maxton, struck him a violent blow in the pit of the stomach, and he was still rolling and groaning on his bed | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000049696 | in the throes of recovering his lost wind when the prefect arrived to turn out the light. The occupants of the two dormitories lay down, but not to sleep. "You mark my word," said Diggory, "as soon as the prefects have gone down to supper those chaps from over the way'll come across and pay us out for throwing that | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000049697 | soap. We'd better put a chair against the door." "Look here!" remarked Fletcher junior to his room-mates. "I shouldn't be at all surprised if Maxton and those other fellows in No. come over and try to rag us; let's lie awake a bit and listen." For half an hour all was quiet and still, and the watchers in No. were | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000049698 | turning over and preparing to go to sleep, when "Rats" started up, exclaiming in a whisper, "They're coming! I heard some one in the passage. There 'tis again! Jump up, you chaps, and let's make a sortie." Now, strange to say, an exactly similar alarm had just been given by Fletcher junior in No. , and the reason was simply | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000049699 | as follows:-- Mr. Greyling, the master of the Lower Fourth, in walking towards his bedroom in slippered feet, was seized with a sneezing fit, and halting just outside the two dormitories, gave vent to his feelings with a loud "Et-chow!" After a moment's pause he sneezed again, and had hardly done so before both doors were suddenly flung open, and | 60 | gutenberg |
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