Talbot Reed - The Willoughby Captains

“‘I didn’t quite hear what the motion was?’ says he, as solemn as a judge.

“‘Oh! it’s about the honour of the school. Riddell—’

“‘Excuse me, Mr Deputy-Chairman and ex-monitor,’ says Crossfield, and there was a regular laugh at that hit, because, of course, Game had no more right in the chair, now he’s not a monitor, than I had. ‘If it’s anything to do with the honour of the school, of course it couldn’t be in better hands than yours, who have summoned the meeting on the sly, and taken such care to select a nice little party!’

“They tried to stop him at that.

“‘You can’t stop the business now. We were just going to take the vote when you came in,’ said Game.

“‘Exactly!’ says Crossfield, propping himself up comfortably against the back of the form as if he was going to stay all night; ‘that’s just why I came, and that’s just why Bloomfield, and Porter, and Coates, and Fairbairn, and a few other gentlemen who have a sort of mild interest in the honour of the school — although it’s nothing, of course, to yours — are coming on too. They’ll be here before I’ve done my speech. By the way, one of you kids,’ said he, with a wink our way, ‘might go and fetch Riddell; he’d like to be here too.’

“We shoved young Wakefield out of the door to make believe to go and fetch you. But they’d had quite enough of it, and shut up the meeting all of a sudden.

“‘I adjourn the meeting!’ cried Game, as red as a turkey-cock.

“‘All right! that will suit me just as well,’ says Crossfield, grinning. ‘Is it to any particular day, or shall we get notice as before?’

“Of course they didn’t stop to answer, and so we gave no end of a cheer for old Crossfield, and then came on here.”

And having delivered themselves of this full, true, and particular account of the afternoon’s adventures, these two small heroes continued their trot down to the river to refresh their honest limbs after the day’s labours.

Their version of the proceedings was very little exaggerated, and, as Crossfield and several others who were present each entertained his own particular circle of friends with the same story, the whole affair became a joke against the luckless Game and Ashley.

Even their own house did not spare them, and as for Bloomfield, he evinced his displeasure in a way which surprised the two heroes.

“What’s all this foolery you’ve been up to, you two?” said he, coming into the preparation-room after tea, where most of the senior Parretts were assembled.

It was not flattering certainly to the two in question to have their noble protest for the honour of the school thus designated, and Game answered, rather sheepishly, “We’ve been up to no foolery!”

“You may not call it foolery,” said Bloomfield, who was in anything but a good temper, “but I do! Making the whole house ridiculous! Goodness knows there’s been quite enough done in that way without wanting your help to do more!”

“What’s the use of going on like that?” said Ashley. “You don’t suppose we did it to amuse ourselves, do you?”

“If you didn’t amuse yourselves you amused every one else,” growled Bloomfield. “Everybody’s laughing at us.”

“We felt something ought to be done about Riddell—” began Game.

“Felt! You’d no business to feel, if that’s the best you can show for it,” said Bloomfield. “ You’ll never set things right!”

“Look here,” said Game, quickly, losing his temper; “you know well enough it was meant for the best, and you needn’t come and kick up a row like this before everybody! If you don’t care to have Riddell shown up, it is no reason why we shouldn’t!”

“A precious lot you’ve shown him up! If you’d wanted to get every one on his side, you couldn’t have done better. You don’t suppose any one would be frightened out of his skin by anything a couple of asses who’d been kicked out of the monitorship had to say?”

Bloomfield certainly had the habit of expressing himself warmly at times, and on the present occasion he may have done so rather more warmly than the case deserved. But he was put out and angry at the ridiculous performance of the Parrett’s boys, in which he felt the entire house was more or less compromised.

As to Riddell, Bloomfield still kept his own private opinion of him, but the difference between him and his more ardent comrades was that he had the sense to keep what he thought to himself.

At any rate, he gave deep offence now to Game and Ashley, who retired in high dudgeon and greatly crestfallen to proclaim their wrongs to a small and sympathetic knot of admirers.

Perhaps the most serious blow these officious young gentlemen had received — hardly second to their snubbing by the Parretts’ captain — had been the mutiny of their own juniors, on whose cooperation they had calculated to a dead certainty.

To find Parson, Bosher, King, and Co. standing up in defence of Riddell against them was a phenomenon so wonderful, when they came to think of it, that they were inclined to imagine they themselves were the only sane boys left out of a house of lunatics. And this was the only consolation that mixed with the affair at all.

As to these juniors, they had far more to think about. In three days the match with Welch’s would be upon them, and a panic ensued on the discovery.

They had been contemptuously confident of their superior prowess, and it was not until one or two of them had actually been down to inspect the play of the rival team, and Bloomfield had come down to one of their own practices and declared publicly that they were safe to be beaten hollow, that they regarded the coming contest seriously.

Then they went to work in grim earnest. Having broken with Game, on whom they had usually depended for “instruction and reproof,” they boldly claimed the services of Bloomfield, and even pressed the willing Mr Parrett into the service.

Mr Parrett pulled a very long face the first afternoon he came down to look at them. He had been coaching the Welchers for a week or two past, and therefore knew pretty well what their opponents ought to be. And he was bound to admit that the young Parretts were very much below the mark.

They had a few good men. Parson was a fair bat, and King bowled moderately; but the “tail” of the eleven was in a shocking condition. Everything that could be done during the next few days was done. But cricket is not a study which can be “crammed” up, like Virgil or Euclid; and, despite the united efforts of Bloomfield and Mr Parrett, and a few other authorities, the team was pronounced to be a “shady” one at best as it took its place on the field of battle.

Riddell had kept his men steadily at it to the last. With a generosity very few appreciated, he forbore to claim Mr Parrett’s assistance at all during the last few days of practice, but he got Fairbairn and one or two of the schoolhouse seniors instead, and with their help kept up the courage and hopes of the young Welchers, wisely taking care, however, by a little occasional judicious snubbing, to prevent them from becoming too cocky or sure of the result.

It was quite an event to see the Welchers’ flag hoisted once more on the cricket-ground. Indeed, it was such an event that the doctor himself came down to watch the play, while the muster of schoolboys was almost as large as at a senior house match.

Among all the spectators, none were more interested in the event than the seniors, who had taken upon themselves the responsibility of “coaching” their respective teams.

Riddell was quite excited and nervous as he watched his men go out to field, while Bloomfield, though he would have been the last to own it, felt decidedly fidgety for the fate of his young champions.