Read Ebook: Digby Heathcote: The Early Days of a Country Gentleman's Son and Heir by Kingston William Henry Giles Weir Harrison Illustrator

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--A SCHOOL SUPPER--DIGBY LEARNS FRENCH, AND WISHES THAT HE DID NOT--DIGBY RISES IN HIS SCHOOLFELLOWS' ESTIMATION.

Digby's first half-holiday had been full of stirring events. As the evening drew on, his hunger reminded him of the contents of his play-box. He had not entirely lost his taste for jam and honey since the days when he had made free with Mrs Carter's preserve pots; and it was with some anticipation of pleasure that he proposed to Paul Newland to examine his treasures.

Paul was a thorough schoolboy, so he willingly agreed; but suggested that it would be wise to keep the jam till after tea, when they might have bread to eat with it. "I have two bottles, and we will pour our tea into them," observed Newland. "Cold tea is very nice, you know; and we will stow away as much bread as we can in our pockets. I have some gingerbread and a bottle of ginger-beer remaining; and we shall have a good supply for a feast."

"But I dare say that I have plenty of things more, for I did not see what was put up; only I know that the housekeeper was told to fill my box as full as it could be," answered Digby. "And do you know, I should like to ask some other fellows to join us. Farnham, certainly, and all those who came to my help when that bully attacked me; or, if you like, all who were playing with us just now. I can easily get some more pots of jam, if I want them, I dare say."

"Capital, capital!" exclaimed Paul. "But I don't think it will do to have as many fellows as you propose. I'll just ask those I think you would really like; but would it not be wiser to see what you have got first. I have known boxes broken open, and when the owners have gone to them, they have found only lumps of paper instead of cake, and empty jam and honey pots."

Digby's heart sank somewhat on hearing this; and with no little trepidation and doubt he accompanied Paul to the play-room.

It was a good-sized place, and had been originally used as a schoolroom; a passage led to it from one end of the present schoolroom. A fire was always lighted there on half-holidays in the winter, so that it was a very favourite resort in the evenings, especially in bad weather. It was not the thing to read there, nor were running games allowed. An exception was made in favour of high-cock-o'-lorum and leap-frog, which might be played at the end furthest from the fireplace. There were tables, and benches, and a few strong wooden chairs and stools; and shelves all round on which the boys might keep their boxes, and other treasures, boats, or little theatres, or museums, or anything they were making.

Digby found his box standing by itself, on a spare shelf. The lock looked all right; he produced the key, and opened it--nothing had been touched.

"All right, then," exclaimed Paul. "We ought to get Farnham and two or three other fellows to stand by as guards, or we shall have Scarborough pouncing down on us like a hawk, or Spiller insinuating himself like an eel, and carrying off the spoil, as they will call it. I have seen those two fellows, before now, half clear out the box of a fellow who had just come from home before he has been able to give anything to his friends. There they both come; I thought so. Shut it again, and hide the key in your pocket."

"I say, though, don't you think we might ask Bouverie to come to the feast?" exclaimed Digby, as Paul was running off. "Is he above that sort of thing?"

Paul stopped, and considered.

"He likes jam and cake, I dare say; but I don't think he would take yours, lest it should be said he helped you for the sake of what you have got," he answered. "I'll ask him in your name, though; there can be no harm in doing that."

When Newland was gone, Digby sat down near his box. Scarborough stood at one end of the room, eyeing him, and considering whether or not it would be worth while to indulge himself in the satisfaction of attacking him, and compelling him to give up some of the contents of his box.

Spiller, meantime, also, was playing with a ball, while he reflected how he might most easily obtain the object of his wishes, and get hold of the eatables he doubted not the new boy had brought. Still, as he felt sure that Newland must have warned Digby against him, he knew that he must exert the utmost circumspection and caution. Once more he glided up to Digby, and sat down near him, taking out his knife, and shaping a piece of soft pine into a boat.

"You are not fond of this sort of thing?--it is too sedentary for you, I have no doubt," he observed. "It suits me, as I am not fond of games. I shall be glad to make you a little vessel some day. Perhaps you have got some tools, now, in your box. I could do it much better with them than with a knife."

Digby very nearly laughed in Spiller's face. As to tools, he had never even possessed a hammer; and besides, his eyes having been opened to his companion's character, the object of his remarks were perfectly evident, and he had resolved not to be humbugged by him. However, he said, "Thank you;" for Digby never forgot to be polite even when he lost his temper, which was not often. "But, to tell you the truth, I do not care much about models and little things. I like sailing in a real vessel, or pulling in a real boat, or swimming, or riding; and, therefore, any such thing would be thrown away on me. Still, if you do anything for me when I ask you, I shall be very glad to repay you with a piece of cake, or some jam, or anything I may have which suits your fancy."

This was plain speaking; but Spiller was in no way offended. His wages had been settled, and now he had to consider how he might most conveniently win them. Still his mouth watered for the sweet things; and he wished that he could get paid beforehand.

Digby felt inclined to go to his box, to cut a piece of cake, and to throw it to him, as people sometimes do a penny to an importunate beggar, whom, in their hearts, they believe to be an impostor; but he restrained himself.

Just then, Paul Newland, Farnham, and three or four more boys, of whom, though they were younger than himself, Spiller had an especial dread, made their appearance at the door of the play-room. He knew that his chance of getting anything just then out of Digby was gone, so he sneaked away to a distance, where he sat down to watch their proceedings.

"I have arranged everything," said Newland. "I first gave your message to Bouverie. He is much obliged, but cannot join our party. Then I got Farnham and the other fellows to keep guard while you open your box: and Bouverie told me that if anybody interferes with you, one of us is to run and let him know, and that he will come to your assistance."

"He is a right capital fellow, then," exclaimed Digby. "It is all the better that there should be a few bullies and blackguards, that the good qualities of others may be the better discovered."

Paul answered that he thought Digby's philosophy was very good in theory; but that practically, he would rather dispense both with bullies and blackguards, as he was constantly a sufferer from them.

At length, all arrangements being made, Digby's box of treasures was opened, and found to contain even more good things than even he or any of his friends had anticipated. Everybody at Bloxholme who could think of what boys liked best, had made some suggestion which had been adopted, and the wonder was, that so much had been stowed away in so small a space. Every crevice had been filled with little and big pots of jam, and marmalade, and honey, a tongue, a Dutch cheese, chocolate-paste, anchovies, a pie without gravy, and a fine plum-cake were only some of the eatables,--then there was a hammer and nails, and gimlets, and screws, and a hasp-knife, and a writing-case, and a number of other useful things; enough, as Paul declared, to enable him to set up house by himself, if he wished.

They had only time to put back about two-thirds of the things, which were all they could get into the box, the rest having to be distributed between Newland's and Farnham's boxes, before the bell rang for tea.

One of the party, William Ranger, Digby heard him called, was easily persuaded to stay away from tea, to watch that no burglary was attempted during their absence.

Tea was quickly over; the bottles were filled, and the bread-and-butter stowed away in their pockets, and then, more hungry than ever, they hurried back to the play-room.

Ranger told them that he had placed himself on a bench, pretending to be fast asleep, and that scarcely had they gone, than Spiller glided into the room, and went up to the well-filled box. He had begun to work away at the lock, when up he had jumped and sung out--

"You had better not."

Without making any answer to this, Spiller had sneaked away again. In another minute, who should come in but the bully Scarborough, with a hammer in his hand. He walked straight up to the box, and finding that it was locked, was about to strike it with all his might, when Ranger, though trembling for the consequences to his bones, again cried--

"You had better not."

The words acted like magic, even on the notorious bully, and he betook himself out of the room as fast as he could, having also, probably, lost his share of the provisions in the tea-room.

The supper-party were now able to assemble in peace and tolerable quiet; and a very merry party they were. The supper service was not exactly uniform, for each person had brought his own plate; some were of wood, and others of earthenware, or iron, or tin, while cups differed as much as did knives, and forks, and spoons. The pie, and the tongue, and the cheese, and the cake, and the jams, were all pronounced excellent, and though all the party eat as much as they wanted, helped out with their own bread-and-butter, it was agreed that there was enough for two or three more feasts, helped out a little, perhaps, with some of the contents of the cake-man's basket. The beverages were, however, of a nature almost too simple for dishes so highly flavoured; the strongest was ginger-beer, the others were lemonade, cold tea, milk-and-water, and water alone. It were well if none of them had ever indulged in anything stronger.

It would be absurd to say that the way in which Digby dispersed the eatables in his box did not contribute to make him popular; at the same time, they would not have done so unless his own personal qualities had been calculated to win the regard of his schoolfellows. Ever cheerful, honest and upright, and bold and fearless, he quickly gained the kindly feeling of all the better boys in the school. With the others, he almost instinctively avoided associating. One of his greatest annoyances was Tommy Bray, who seemed never to lose an opportunity of trying to put him out of temper.

Digby, as he had promised, wrote very frequently to Kate. He had not altogether a satisfactory account to give of the school; still, he was happy--very jolly, he described himself--and there were plenty of fellows he liked, more or less, and he was learning a number of new games, and he was getting on very fairly with his lessons. Kate wrote even oftener to him, and told him all she was doing. Among other things, she said that she was learning French, and it would be so nice to be able to talk with him, and that she had persuaded papa to let him learn if he wished it, and so that he must, and she had enclosed the necessary written permission.

Digby had seldom differed with Kate in any of her propositions, so, in a fatal moment for his peace, he took up the order, and was at once placed in Monsieur Guillaume's junior class.

The French master was highly pleased, and complimented him much on the wisdom of his resolution. All went very well at first; he managed to get through the rudiments about as well as the ordinary run of boys, but his advance after this was very slow, as Newland used to tell him, it was all goose-step with him. Somehow or other he could not manage to twist his thoroughly English mouth, so as properly to pronounce the French words. In vain the master made him repeat them over and over again. He knew the meaning of a good number of phrases and words, but when he came to express himself, Monsieur Guillaume vowed that he could not understand a word he said.

"That is because he speaks in one way, and I speak in another, I suppose," observed Digby. "But I don't see why my way is not the best; it is the English way, and I should be ashamed of myself if I did not consider everything English better than anything French."

There was a twinkle in Digby's eyes as he said this which showed that he was not altogether very serious.

"You remind me, Heathcote, of a story my father tells," observed Newland. "An old shipmate of his, a Master in the Navy, was taken prisoner by the French early in the war, and had to remain at Verdun for several years. At last he was liberated, and was very soon again afloat. It was necessary, on the occasion of some expedition being dispatched, to send an officer who could speak French. The Captain knowing that the worthy Master had been many years in France, sent for him to take the command of it, explaining the reason why he had done so.

"`I speak French, do you say, sir?' he exclaimed. `No, sir; I am thankful to say that I never learned a word more of their lingo than I could possibly help. I, a true-born, patriotic Englishman! I should have felt that I was disgracing myself if I had.'"

"I am not so bad as that," said Digby. "I should like to learn if I could; but I have no aptitude for languages, I suppose."

Monsieur Guillaume had, however, resolved that his boys should not only learn, but speak French; and all his pupils were ordered to speak French at certain hours, either in the playground or anywhere else, except when they were up saying their lessons. To compel the boys to talk, several marks were distributed to those who spoke best; and they were to give them to whatever boys they found speaking English. Those who had them at the end of the day had a task of several lines of French poetry to learn by heart, an occupation Digby especially hated. Still the decree had gone forth, and Digby was continually having an odious piece of wood, with "French Mark" burnt on it, slipped quietly into his hands. Nine times out of ten, Tommy Bray was the person to give it him. How Tommy so often became possessed of it seemed a mystery, for he spoke French with more ease than most of the rest, and was not likely to have been caught, thoughtlessly, talking English.

Paul at length found that he would go up to a fellow he knew had got the mark, and address him in English, when, of course, it was given to him. He would then not try to pass it till the evening, when he would continually hover about Digby till he found him tripping. At last Digby, in desperation, would get hold of one of the marks early in the day, and keeping it in his pocket, give, as he said, free play to his native tongue. Of course, the system did not increase his affection for French, or for Monsieur Guillaume, or Tommy Bray, in particular; yet, after all, it was a less annoyance than many to which he and some of the best boys were subjected by the masters.

Mr Sanford's illness increased, till he was unable to appear at all in the schoolroom; and yet, as he still retained his post as head-master, points were supposed to be referred to him which never were so referred; and various grievances which sprung up remained, day after day, unredressed.

Mr Yates became more pompous and dictatorial than ever, and not only took to caning, but assumed the power of flogging, which even Mr Sanford had long disused.

Mr Tugman, too, bullied more than ever; he pulled and boxed the boys' ears, and hit them over the shoulders and knuckles with a cane, which he always kept by his side.

Monsieur Guillaume imitated his example; and Mr Moore, the second master, was the only one who continued to treat the boys in the quiet, gentlemanly way he had always done.

One of the punishments Mr Yates had invented was to lock up a culprit in a dark room for several hours together, without food. This was especially hated; and some of the boys declared that they would sooner leave than submit to it. As it proved, it was calculated to produce very bad effects in the school. These punishments, and the unusual harshness of the masters, instead of introducing more order and regularity into the school, had a very different effect, and never had it been so disorganised and in so unsatisfactory a condition.

This state of things had begun to grow up before Digby's arrival. He, of course, did not, at first, discover it, and was not of a disposition to trouble himself much about the politics either of the school or of the nation at large. In a few months he found himself holding not only a good position in the school, but looked upon as a leader in many games, and in all expeditions and amusements.

Spring was advancing, and, as the days were long, the boys were allowed, according to an established custom, to go out after dinner, on half-holidays, and to make excursions to a distance. They were obliged, however, to say where they were going, and to report themselves on their return, when they were expected to give an account of their proceedings. In the summer, when cricket had come in, the privilege was seldom taken advantage of, as most of the boys spent their time in the cricket-field. Several, however, even then, who did not care about cricket, would get away from it; some to fish, others, who had a fancy for the study of natural history, to collect insects and other creatures; and some, unhappily, and the number was increasing, to assemble in spots where they were not likely to be observed; then they brought from the nearest public-house pipes, and tobacco, and beer, and often spirits, and they would spend the whole afternoon smoking, and drinking, and talking, as they called it, like men. Often, miserable, ignorant fools, they talked on subjects which no gentleman, no Christian man, worthy of the name, would even touch on.

Digby knew of these assemblings, and of the orgies which took place at them, but had resisted all the invitations he received to join them. Of course, he scarcely saw the evil in its true light, likely to result from them; health injured; habits of intemperance gained; the mind contaminated and debased with vicious ideas; and time, which ought to be spent either in health and strength-gaining exercise, or in study and preparation for the real business of life, squandered.

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