Loman makes out the captain promised him the first new boy that came.
I"m awfully sorry."
"Just like Loman"s cheek. I believe he did it on purpose to spite me or you. I say, Greenfield, I"d kick-up a row about it if I were you."
"What"s the use, if the captain says so?" answered Oliver. "Besides, Loman"s a monitor, bad luck to him!"
"Loman"s a fellow I don"t take a great fancy to," said Wraysford. "I wouldn"t care for a young brother of mine to f.a.g to him."
"You are prejudiced, old man," said Oliver. "But I wish all the same Stephen was to f.a.g for you. It"s a pity, but it can"t be helped."
"I"ll speak to the captain, anyhow," growled Wraysford, sitting down to his tea.
All this was not very pleasant for Stephen, who gathered that he was destined to serve a not very desirable personage in the capacity of f.a.g, instead of, as he would have liked, his brother"s friend Wraysford.
However, he did justice to the tea, bad as it was, and the sardines Oliver had brought from Maltby. He was relieved, too, to find that his brother was not greatly exasperated on hearing of the various raids which had been made on his provisions, or greatly disconcerted at Mr Bullinger"s modest request for half a pint of jam.
Then, as the talk fell upon home, and cricket, and other cheerful topics, the small boy gradually forgot his troubles, even down to the Fiji War, and finished up his first evening at Saint Dominic"s in a good deal more cheerful frame of mind than that in which he had begun it.
CHAPTER THREE.
A MORNING WITH A TADPOLE.
It so happened that on the day following Stephen Greenfield"s arrival at Saint Dominic"s, the head master, Dr Senior, was absent.
This circ.u.mstance gave great satisfaction to the new boy when his brother told him of it, as it put off for another twenty-four hours the awful moment when he would be forced to expose his ignorance before that terrible personage.
"You"d better stick about in my room while I"m in school," said Oliver, "and then you can come down to the cricket-field and see the practice.
By the way, some of the fellows may be in to bag my ink; they always run short on Friday; but don"t let them take it, for I shall want it to-night. Ta, ta; give my love to the _mater_ if you"re writing home.
I"ll be back for you after the twelve bell."
And off he went, leaving Stephen to follow his own sweet devices for three hours.
That young gentleman was at no loss how to occupy part of the time. He must write home. So after much searching he unearthed a crumpled sheet of note-paper from one of the drawers, and set himself to his task. As he wrote, and his thoughts flew back to the home and the mother he had left only yesterday, his spirits fell, and the home-sickness came over him worse than ever. What would he not give to change places with this very letter, and go back home!
Here, no one cared for him, every one seemed to despise him. He wasn"t used to those rough public schools, and would never get on at Saint Dominic"s. Ah! that wretched Tenth Fiji War. What _would_ become of him to-morrow when the Doctor would be back? There was no one to help him. Even Oliver seemed determined to let him fight his own battles.
Poor boy! He sat back in his chair and let his mind wander once more back to the snug little home he had left. And, as he did so, his eyes unconsciously filled with tears, and he felt as if he would give anything to escape from Saint Dominic"s.
At this moment the door opened and a small boy entered.
He did not seem to expect to find any one in the room, for he uttered a hurried "Hullo!" as he caught sight of Stephen.
Stephen quickly dashed away a tear and looked up.
"Where"s Greenfield?" demanded the small boy.
"He"s in school," replied Stephen.
"Hullo! what are you blubbering at?" cried the small boy, growing very bold and patronising all of a sudden, "eh?"
Stephen did not answer this home question.
"I suppose you are a new kid, just left your mammy?" observed the other, with the air of a man of forty; "what"s your name, young "un?"
"Stephen Greenfield."
"Oh, my! is it? What form are you in?"
"I don"t know yet."
"Haven"t you been examined?"
"No, not yet."
"Oh, of course; old Senior"s away. Never mind, you"ll catch it to-morrow, blub-baby!"
This last epithet was thrown in in such a very gratuitous and offensive way, that Stephen did not exactly like it.
The small youth, however, finding himself in a bantering mood, pursued his questions with increasing venom.
"I suppose they call you Steenie at home?" he observed, with a sneer that was meant to be quite annihilating.
"No, they don"t," replied Stephen; "mother calls me Steevie."
"Oh, Steevie, does she? Well, Steevie, were you ever licked over the knuckles with a ruler?"
"No," replied Stephen; "why?"
"Because you will be--I know who"ll do it, too, and kick you on the shins, too, if you"re cheeky!"
Stephen was quite at a loss whether to receive this piece of news in the light of information or a threat. He was inclined to believe it the latter; and as he was a rash youth, he somewhat tartly replied, "_You_ won"t!"
The small boy looked astounded--not that he ever contemplated attempting the chastis.e.m.e.nt about which he had talked; but the idea of a new boy defying _him_, one of the chosen leaders of the Tadpoles, who had been at Saint Dominic"s two years, was amazing. He glared at the rash Stephen for half a minute, and then broke out, "Won"t I? that"s all! you see, you pretty little blubber boy! Yow-ow-ow! little sneak! why don"t you cut behind your mammy"s skirt, if you"re afraid? I would cry if I were you. Where"s his bottle? Poor infant! Yow-ow-boo-boo!"
This tornado, delivered with increasing vehemence and offensiveness, quite overpowered Stephen, who stared at the boy as if he had been a talking frog.
That youth evidently seemed to expect that his speech would produce a far deeper impression than it did, for he looked quite angry when Stephen made no reply.
"Wretched little sneak!" the amiable one continued; "I suppose he"ll go peaching to his big brother. Never mind, _we"ll_ pay you out, see if we don"t! Go and kiss your mammy, and tell your big brother what they did to little duckie Steevie, did they then? they shouldn"t! Give him a suck of his bottle! oh, my!" and he finished up with a most withering laugh. Then, suddenly remembering his errand, he walked up to the table, and said, "I want that inkpot!"
Now was Stephen"s time. He was just in the humour for an argument with this young Philistine.
"What for?"
"What"s that to you? give it up!"
"I shan"t give it up; Oliver said it was not to be taken."