"You may not know it," said Wyatt to Mike in the dormitory that night,"but this is the maddest, merriest day of all the glad New Year."Mike could not help thinking that for himself it was the very reverse,but he did not state his view of the case.
"What's up?" he asked.
"Neville-Smith's giving a meal at his place in honour of his gettinghis first. I understand the preparations are on a scale of the utmostmagnificence. No expense has been spared. Ginger-beer will flow likewater. The oldest cask of lemonade has been broached; and a sardine isroasting whole in the market-place.""Are you going?""If I can tear myself away from your delightful society. The kick-offis fixed for eleven sharp. I am to stand underneath his window andheave bricks till something happens. I don't know if he keeps a dog.
If so, I shall probably get bitten to the bone.""When are you going to start?""About five minutes after Wain has been round the dormitories to seethat all's well. That ought to be somewhere about half-past ten.""Don't go getting caught.""I shall do my little best not to be. Rather tricky work, though,getting back. I've got to climb two garden walls, and I shall probablybe so full of Malvoisie that you'll be able to hear it swishing aboutinside me. No catch steeple-chasing if you're like that. They've nothought for people's convenience here. Now at Bradford they've gotstudies on the ground floor, the windows looking out over theboundless prairie. No climbing or steeple-chasing needed at all. Allyou have to do is to open the window and step out. Still, we must makethe best of things. Push us over a pinch of that tooth-powder ofyours. I've used all mine."Wyatt very seldom penetrated further than his own garden on theoccasions when he roamed abroad at night. For cat-shooting the Wainspinneys were unsurpassed. There was one particular dustbin where onemight be certain of flushing a covey any night; and the wall by thepotting-shed was a feline club-house.
But when he did wish to get out into the open country he had a specialroute which he always took. He climbed down from the wall that ranbeneath the dormitory window into the garden belonging to Mr. Appleby,the master who had the house next to Mr. Wain's. Crossing this, heclimbed another wall, and dropped from it into a small lane whichended in the main road leading to Wrykyn town.
This was the route which he took to-night. It was a glorious Julynight, and the scent of the flowers came to him with a curiousdistinctness as he let himself down from the dormitory window. At anyother time he might have made a lengthy halt, and enjoyed the scentsand small summer noises, but now he felt that it would be better notto delay. There was a full moon, and where he stood he could be seendistinctly from the windows of both houses. They were all dark, it istrue, but on these occasions it was best to take no risks.
He dropped cautiously into Appleby's garden, ran lightly across it,and was in the lane within a minute.
There he paused, dusted his trousers, which had suffered on thetwo walls, and strolled meditatively in the direction of the town.
Half-past ten had just chimed from the school clock. He was in plentyof time.
"What a night!" he said to himself, sniffing as he walked.
* * * * *Now it happened that he was not alone in admiring the beauty of thatparticular night. At ten-fifteen it had struck Mr. Appleby, lookingout of his study into the moonlit school grounds, that a pipe in theopen would make an excellent break in his night's work. He hadacquired a slight headache as the result of correcting a batch ofexamination papers, and he thought that an interval of an hour in theopen air before approaching the half-dozen or so papers which stillremained to be looked at might do him good. The window of his studywas open, but the room had got hot and stuffy. Nothing like a littlefresh air for putting him right.
For a few moments he debated the rival claims of a stroll in thecricket-field and a seat in the garden. Then he decided on the latter.
The little gate in the railings opposite his house might not beopen, and it was a long way round to the main entrance. So he took adeck-chair which leaned against the wall, and let himself out of theback door.
He took up his position in the shadow of a fir-tree with his back tothe house. From here he could see the long garden. He was fond of hisgarden, and spent what few moments he could spare from work and gamespottering about it. He had his views as to what the ideal gardenshould be, and he hoped in time to tinker his own three acres up tothe desired standard. At present there remained much to be done. Whynot, for instance, take away those laurels at the end of the lawn, andhave a flower-bed there instead? Laurels lasted all the year round,true, whereas flowers died and left an empty brown bed in the winter,but then laurels were nothing much to look at at any time, and agarden always had a beastly appearan............