The important sixth of October—important to the Helstonleigh College boys—did not rise very genially. On the contrary, it rose rather sloppily. A soaking rain was steadily descending, and the streets presented a continuous scene of puddles. The boys dashed through it without umbrellas (I never saw one of them carry an umbrella in my life, and don’t believe the phenomenon ever was seen), their clean surplices on their arms; on their way to attend ten-o’clock morning prayers in the cathedral. The day was a holiday from school, but not from morning service.
The college bell was beginning to ring out as they entered the schoolroom. Standing in the senior’s place, and calling over the roll, was Tom Channing, the acting senior for a few brief hours. Since Gaunt’s departure, the previous day, Tom Channing had been head of the school; it lay in the custom of the school for him so to be. Would his place be confirmed? or would he lose it? Tom looked flurried with suspense. It was not so much being appointed senior that he thought of, as the disgrace, the humiliation that would be his portion, were he deposed from it. He knew that he deserved the position; that it was his by right; he stood first on the rolls, and he had done nothing whatever to forfeit it. He was the school’s best scholar; and—if he was not always a perfect model for conduct—there was this much to be said in his favour, that none of them could boast of being better.
The opinion of the school had been veering round for the last few days in favour of Tom. I do not mean that he, personally, was in better odour with it—not at all, the snow-ball, touching Arthur, had gathered strength in rolling—but in favour of his chances of the seniorship. Not a breath of intimation had the head-master given; except that, one day, in complaining to Gaunt of the neglect of a point of discipline in the school, which point was entirely under the control of the senior boy, he had turned to Tom, and said, “Remember, Channing, it must be observed for the future.”
Tom’s heart leaped within him as he heard it, and the boys looked inquiringly at the master. But the master’s head was then buried in the deep drawer of his desk, hunting for a lost paper. Unless he had spoken it in forgetfulness—which was not improbable—there could be no doubt that he looked upon Tom as Gaunt’s successor. The school so interpreted it, and chose to become, amongst themselves, sullenly rebellious. As to Tom, who was nearly as sanguine in temperament as Hamish, his hopes and his spirits went up to fever heat.—
One of the last to tear through the street, splashing his jacket, and splashing his surplice, was Harry Huntley. He, like all the rest, took care to be in time that morning. There would have been no necessity for his racing, however, had he not lingered at home, talking. He was running down from his room, whither he had gone again after breakfast, to give the finishing brush to his hair (I can tell you that some of those college gentlemen were dandies), when Mr. Huntley’s voice was heard, calling him into the breakfast-room.
“Harry,” said he, “I don’t think that I need enjoin you not to suffer your manner to show triumph towards Tom Channing, should you be promoted over him to-day.”
“I shan’t be, papa. Channing will have the seniorship.”
“How do you know that?”
“Oh, from something Pye let drop. We look upon it that Channing is as good as senior.”
Mr. Huntley remembered the tenor of the private conversation the master had held with him, and believed his son would find himself mistaken, and that he, Harry, would be made senior. That it would be Gerald Yorke, Mr. Huntley did not believe. “At any rate, Harry, take heed to what I say,” he resumed. “Be very considerate and courteous towards your friend Channing, if you should obtain it. Do not let me have to blush for my son’s ill feeling.”
There was a tone in Mr. Huntley’s voice which, to Harry’s ears, seemed to intimate that he did not speak without reason. “Papa, it would not be fair for me to go up over Channing,” he impulsively said.
“No. Comparing your merits together, Channing is the better man of the two.”
Harry laughed. “He is not worse, at all events. Why are you saying this, papa?”
“Because I fancy that you are more likely to be successful than Tom Channing. I wish I may be mistaken. I would rather he had it; for, personally, he had done nothing to forfeit it.”
“If Harry could accept the seniorship and displace Tom Channing, I would not care to call him my brother again,” interrupted Ellen Huntley, with a flashing eye.
“It is not that, Ellen; you girls don’t understand things,” retorted Harry. “If Pye displaces Tom from the scholarship, he does not do it to exalt me; he does it because he won’t have him at any price. Were I to turn round like a chivalrous Knight Templar and say I’d not take it, out of regard to my friend Tom, where would be the good? Yorke would get hoisted over me, and I should be laughed at for a duffer. But I’ll do as you like, papa,” he added, turning to Mr. Huntley. “If you wish me not to take the honour, I’ll resign it in favour of Yorke. I never expected it to be mine, so it will be no disappointment; I always thought we should have Channing.”
“Your refusing it would do no good to Channing,” said Mr. Huntley. “And I should have grumbled at you, Harry, had you suffered Yorke to slip over your head. Every one in his own right. All I repeat to you, my boy, is, behave as you ought to Tom Channing. Possibly I may pay the college school a visit this morning.”
Harry opened his eyes to their utmost width.
“You, papa! Whatever for?”
“That is my business,” laughed Mr. Huntley. “It wants only twenty minutes to ten, Harry.”
Harry, at the hint, bounded into the hall. He caught up his clean surplice, placed there ready for him, and stuck his trencher on his head, when he was detained by Ellen.
“Harry, boy, it’s a crying wrong against Tom Channing. Hamish never did it—”
“Hamish” interrupted Harry, with a broad grin. “A sign who you are thinking of, mademoiselle.”
Mademoiselle turned scarlet. “You know I meant to say Arthur, stupid boy! It’s a crying wrong, Harry, upon Tom Channing. Looking at it in the worst light, he has been guilty of nothing to forfeit his right. If you can help him to the seniorship instead of supplanting him, be a brave boy, and do it. God sees all things.”
“I shall be late, as sure as a gun!” impatiently returned Harry. And away he sped through the rain and mud, never slackening speed till he was in the college schoolroom.
He hung up his trencher, flung his surplice on to a bench, and went straight up, with outstretched hand, to Tom Channing, who stood as senior, unfolding the roll. “Good luck to you, old fellow!” cried he, in a clear voice, that rang through the spacious room. “I hope, with all my heart, that you’ll be in this post for many a day.”
“Thank you, Huntley,” responded Tom. And he proceeded to call over the roll, though his cheek burnt at sundry hisses that came, in subdued tones, from various parts of the room.
Every boy was present. Not a king’s scholar but answered to his name; and Tom signed the roll for the first time. “Channing, acting senior.” Not “Channing, senior,” yet. It was a whim of Mr. Pye’s that on Sundays and saints’ day—that is, whenever the king’s scholars had to attend service—the senior boy should sign the roll.
They then put on their surplices; and rather damp surplices some of them were. The boys most of them disdained bags; let the weather be what it might, the surplices, like themselves, went openly through it. Ready in their surplices and trenchers, Tom Channing gave the word of command, and they were on the point of filing out, when a freak took Pierce senior to leave his proper place in the ranks, and walk by the side of Brittle.
“Halt!” said Channing. “Pierce senior, take your place.”
“I shan’t,” returned Pierce. “Who is to compel me?” he added with a mocking laugh. “We are without a senior for once.”
“I will,” thundered Tom, his face turning white at the implied sneer, the incipient disobedience. “I stand here as the school’s senior now, whatever I may do later, and I will be obeyed. Return to your proper place.”
There ............