"Now, shall I, Brady?"
[Illustration]
Jack nodded. He really dared not speak, for fear Mason should take it into his head to go exactly contrary to him.
Hurrah! The cigar was taken!
From that moment Cadbury and Jack turned themselves into a couple of the maddest, silliest clowns imaginable. But there was method in their madness. Though they did not even own it to each other, they were making themselves ridiculous and foolish to prevent the rest from feeling so.
Boys loathe sentiment, and many a quarrel drifts on and on, simply because each party dreads "being made to feel a fool".
At Brincliffe on this particular day the two sides felt distinctly shy of each other, and it was a real boon to have a pair of "giddy lunatics"
to scream at.
But when Cadbury had boxed Frere's ears for giving the dates of the royal Georges correctly, and when Simmons had sharpened his pencil with Vickers's knife without asking leave, the relations between boarders and day-pupils grew easier.
There were few idle wheel-barrows in Elmridge on Saturday afternoon.
If you had passed along the dusty Brickland Road between four and five o'clock, you would have encountered a droll procession. One passer-by stopped to enquire if there was going to be a Battle of Flowers.
Six barrows, laden with flowering plants, each pulled by two boys, and pushed by one, were slowly but steadily travelling towards the town, and at the rear of all was a bath-chair in charge of Hallett and Armitage, wherein sat a thin, delicate-looking man, whose bright eyes and flushed cheeks spoke eloquently of gratitude and pleasure. That bath-chair was Hallett's own idea, and he was very proud of it.
It was a warm and weary company of boy-labourers who gathered at eight o'clock that evening round a very tempting supper-table, spread in the Brincliffe dining-room, to which, by special invitation, the day-pupils sat down with the boarders. But every face was bright, and the meal was the merriest ever known.
By Mr. West's direction, the boys were left to enjoy it "un-mastered".
The clatter of knives and spoons had almost ceased when Vickers rose slowly to his feet, a glass of ginger-beer in his hand. He was impelled to do so by the nudges of his neighbours, Green and Mason. His rising was received with loud applause, which he acknowledged with a grave bow.
"I have been very much pressed--elbow-pressed," he began, "to get up and say something. I scarcely see why I should be pitched on, unless it is because I have more brass than the rest of you. (Hear, hear.) Anyhow, here I am, and I'll ask three questions and then sit down. First"--and up came one finger--"Isn't this the jolliest supper we've ever had?
(Cries of "Yes!") Very well, I'll tell you why. Reason Number One: West's in a jolly good temper, _vide_ the groaning table and the absence of masters. Reason Number Two: We're all in a jolly good temper, and have done a jolly good day's work. Now, secondly--(Shouts of "Thirdly, you mean, old man!") I mean what I say--Secondly! We had two divisions under the first head. You may have got confused, but I haven't.
Secondly, then, we're all pretty thoroughly fagged: is anyone sorry he's fagged? (No!) Well, the job wasn't my idea, or West's idea. But it was somebody's, and I think we all know whose. The same somebody who has annoyed us all horribly in the past by refusing to so much as do one ill-natured thing. The same somebody who has steadily prevented us from quarrelling comfortably and consistently, as we wanted to, and has finally dragged us into this unhappy state of good-fellowship. Now for my thirdly: Will you drink with me to that somebody's health?"
The question was received with shouting and banging, while the words, "Bravo, Vickers! Here's to good old Brady!" "I drink to Jack of Both Sides!" "Here's to you, Jack!" "Speech, Brady--speech!" and similar cries filled the air.
Poor Jack felt extremely ill at ease, and not at all grateful to Vickers. He studied his plate with the closest attention, his face growing redder and redder each moment. Then Cadbury thumped him on the back, and Hallett and Bacon fairly forced him to his feet. But a speech was quite beyond Jack at that minute.
"I say, sha'n't we beg the release of the March Hare?" was all he said, and the first person he looked at was Armitage.
Armitage, too, was the first to cry back, "Yes!"
The petition, which was written and signed before they separated, was received favourably, and the following Monday saw the return of the March Hare to his place in the school, scared, penitent, and profoundly grateful to all his school-fellows, including Armitage. And he insisted on pressing Jack's hand to his lips, which made our hero feel excessively uncomfortable. But for the remainder of the term, the use of a knife, even at dinner, was denied the little Italian.
"Brady, have you missed anything?" asked Cadbury a few days later.
"No, I don't think so," replied Jack, feeling doubtfully in his pockets.
"Because you have certainly lost something," continued Cadbury.
"Well, give it me quick, then," said Jack, laughing. "Whatever is it?"
"I can't give it you. It's gone for ever," was the rejoinder. "You'll never have it again."
"Well, what was it, then? Nothing valuable, I hope?"
"When two things are made into one thing, you can't speak of them any longer as 'both'; can you?"
"Fetch us a grammar, Toppin," said Jack. "We're getting out of our depths. Have I lost two things, please, Cadbury, or only one?"
"Don't frivol, Jack! listen to me. We are all one-sided now, so you have lost your title. You can never again be called Jack of Both Sides."
THE END