Chapter 5 The White Feather

It was not until he had reached his study that Sheen thoroughlyrealised what he had done. All the way home he had been defendinghimself eloquently against an imaginary accuser; and he had built up avery sound, thoughtful, and logical series of arguments to show that hewas not only not to blame for what he had done, but had acted in highlystatesmanlike and praiseworthy manner. After all, he was in the sixth.

　　Not a prefect, it was true, but, still, practically a prefect. Theheadmaster disliked unpleasantness between school and town, much moreso between the sixth form of the school and the town. Therefore, he haddone his duty in refusing to be drawn into a fight with Albert andfriends. Besides, why should he be expected to join in whenever he sawa couple of fellows fighting? It wasn't reasonable. It was no businessof his. Why, it was absurd. He had no quarrel with those fellows. Itwasn't cowardice. It was simply that he had kept his head better thanDrummond, and seen further into the matter. Besides....

　　But when he sat down in his chair, this mood changed. There is a vastdifference between the view one takes of things when one is walkingbriskly, and that which comes when one thinks the thing over coldly. Ashe sat there, the wall of defence which he had built up slipped awaybrick by brick, and there was the fact staring at him, without coveringor disguise.

　　It was no good arguing against himself. No amount of argument couldwipe away the truth. He had been afraid, and had shown it. And he hadshown it when, in a sense, he was representing the school, when Wrykynlooked to him to help it keep its end up against the town.

　　The more he reflected, the more he saw how far-reaching were theconsequences of that failure in the hour of need. He had disgracedhimself. He had disgraced Seymour's. He had disgraced the school. Hewas an outcast.

　　This mood, the natural reaction from his first glow of almost jauntyself-righteousness, lasted till the lock-up bell rang, when it wassucceeded by another. This time he took a more reasonable view of theaffair. It occurred to him that there was a chance that his defectionhad passed unnoticed. Nothing could make his case seem better in hisown eyes, but it might be that the thing would end there. The housemight not have lost credit.

　　An overwhelming curiosity seized him to find out how it had all ended.

　　The ten minutes of grace which followed the ringing of the lock-up bellhad passed. Drummond and the rest must be back by now.

　　He went down the passage to Drummond's study. Somebody was inside. Hecould hear him.

　　He knocked at the door.

　　Drummond was sitting at the table reading. He looked up, and there wasa silence. Sheen's mouth felt dry. He could not think how to begin. Henoticed that Drummond's face was unmarked. Looking down, he saw thatone of the knuckles of the hand that held the book was swollen and cut.

　　"Drummond, I--"Drummond lowered the book.

　　"Get out," he said. He spoke without heat, calmly, as if he were makingsome conventional remark by way of starting a conversation.

　　"I only came to ask--""Get out," said Drummond again.

　　There was another pause. Drummond raised his book and went on reading.

　　Sheen left the room.

　　Outside he ran into Linton. Unlike Drummond, Linton bore marks of theencounter. As in the case of the hero of Calverley's poem, one of hisspeaking eyes was sable. The swelling of his lip was increased. Therewas a deep red bruise on his forehead. In spite of these injuries,however, he was cheerful. He was whistling when Sheen collided withhim.

　　"Sorry," said Linton, and went on into the study.

　　"Well," he said, "how are you feeling, Drummond? Lucky beggar, youhaven't got a mark. I wish I could duck like you. Well, we have foughtthe good fight. Exit Albert--sweep him up. You gave him enough to lasthim for the rest of the term. I couldn't tackle the brute. He's asstrong as a horse. My word, it was lucky you happened to come up.

　　Albert was making hay of us. Still, all's well that ends well. We havesmitten the Philistines this day. By the way--""What's up now?""Who was that chap with you when you came up?""Which chap?""I thought I saw some one.""You shouldn't eat so much tea. You saw double.""There wasn't anybody?""No," said Drummond.

　　"Not Sheen?""No," said Drummond, irritably. "How many more times do you want me tosay it?""All right," said Linton, "I only asked. I met him outside.""Who?""Sheen.""Oh!""You might be sociable.""I know I might. But I want to read.""Lucky man. Wish I could. I can hardly see. Well, good bye, then. I'moff.""Good," grunted Drummond. "You know your way out, don't you?"Linton went back to his own study.

　　"It's all very well," he said to himself, "for Drummond to deny it, butI'll swear I saw Sheen with him. So did Dunstable. I'll cut out and askhim about it after prep. If he really was there, and cut off, somethingought to be done about it. The chap ought to be kicked. He's a disgraceto the house."Dunstable, questioned after preparation, refused to commit himself.

　　"I thought I saw somebody with Drummond," he said, "and I had a sort ofidea it was Sheen. Still, I was pretty busy at the time, and wasn'tpaying much attention to anything, except that long, thin bargee withthe bowler. I wish those men would hit straight. It's beastly difficultto guard a round-arm swing. My right ear feels like a cauliflower. Doesit look rum?""Beastly. But what about this? You can't swear to Sheen then?""No. Better give him the benefit of the doubt. What does Drummond say?

　　You ought to ask him.""I have. He says he was alone.""Well, that settles it. What an ass you are. If Drummond doesn't know,who does?""I believe he's simply hushing it up.""Well, let us hush it up, too. It's no good bothering about it. Welicked them all right.""But it's such a beastly thing for the house.""Then why the dickens do you want it to get about? Surely the bestthing you can do is to dry up and say nothing about it.""But something ought to be done.""What's the good of troubling about a man like Sheen? He never was anygood, and this doesn't make him very much worse. Besides, he'llprobably be sick enough on his own account. I know I should, if I'ddone it. And, anyway, we don't know that he did do it.""I'm certain he did. I could swear it was him.""Anyhow, for goodness' sake let the thing drop.""All right. But I shall cut him.""Well, that would be punishment enough for anybody, whatever he'd done.

　　Fancy existence without your bright conversation. It doesn't bearthinking of. You do look a freak with that eye and that lump on yourforehead. You ought to wear a mask.""That ear of yours," said Linton with satisfaction, "will be aboutthree times its ordinary size tomorrow. And it always was too large.

　　Good night."On his way back to Seymour's Mason of Appleby's, who was standing athis house gate imbibing fresh air, preparatory to going to bed,accosted him.

　　"I say, Linton," he said, "--hullo, you look a wreck, don't you!--Isay, what's all this about your house?""What about my house?""Funking, and all that. Sheen, you know. Stanning has just been tellingme.""Then he saw him, too!" exclaimed Linton, involuntarily.

　　"Oh, it's true, then? Did he really cut off like that? Stanning said hedid, but I wouldn't believe him at first. You aren't going? Goodnight."So the thing was out. Linton had not counted on Stanning having seenwhat he and Dunstable had seen. It was impossible to hush it up now.

　　The scutcheon of Seymour's was definitely blotted. The name of thehouse was being held up to scorn in Appleby's probably everywhere elseas well. It was a nuisance, thought Linton, but it could not be helped.

　　After all, it was a judgment on the house for harbouring such aspecimen as Sheen.

　　In Seymour's there was tumult and an impromptu indignation meeting.

　　Stanning had gone to work scientifically. From the moment that, duckingunder the guard of a sturdy town youth, he had caught sight of Sheenretreating from the fray, he had grasped the fact that here,ready-made, was his chance of working off his grudge against him. Allhe had to do was to spread the news abroad, and the school would do therest. On his return from the town he had mentioned the facts of thecase to one or two of the more garrulous members of his house, and theyhad passed it on to everybody they met during the interval in themiddle of preparation. By the end of preparation half the school knewwhat had happened.

　　Seymour's was furious. The senior day-room to a man condemned Sheen.

　　The junior day-room was crimson in the face and incoherent. Thedemeanour of a junior in moments of excitement generally lacks thatrepose which marks the philosopher.

　　"He ought to be kicked," shrilled Renford.

　　"We shall get rotted by those kids in Dexter's," moaned Harvey.

　　"Disgracing the house!" thundered Watson.

　　"Let's go and chuck things at his door," suggested Renford.

　　A move was made to the passage in which Sheen's study was situated,and, with divers groans and howls, the junior day-room hove footballboots and cricket stumps at the door.

　　The success of the meeting, however, was entirely neutralised by thefact that in the same passage stood the study of Rigby, the head of thehouse. Also Rigby was trying at the moment to turn into idiomatic Greekverse the words: "The Days of Peace and Slumberous calm have fled", andthis corroboration of the statement annoyed him to the extent ofcausing him to dash out and sow lines among the revellers like somemonarch scattering largesse. The junior day-room retired to its lair toinveigh against the brutal ways of those in authority, and beginworking off the commission it had received.

　　The howls in the passage were the first official intimation Sheen hadreceived that his shortcomings were public property. The word "Funk!"shouted through his keyhole, had not unnaturally given him an inklingas to the state of affairs.

　　So Drummond had given him away, he thought. Probably he had told Lintonthe whole story the moment after he, Sheen, had met the latter at thedoor of the study. And perhaps he was now telling it to the rest of thehouse. Of all the mixed sensations from which he suffered as he went tohis dormitory that night, one of resentment against Drummond was thekeenest.

　　Sheen was in the fourth dormitory, where the majority of the day-roomslept. He was in the position of a sort of extra house prefect, as faras the dormitory was concerned. It was a large dormitory, and MrSeymour had fancied that it might, perhaps, be something of a handfulfor a single prefect. As a matter of fact, however, Drummond, who wasin charge, had shown early in the term that he was more than capable ofmanaging the place single handed. He was popular and determined. Thedormitory was orderly, partly because it liked him, principally becauseit had to be.

　　He had an opportunity of exhibiting his powers of control that night.

　　When Sheen came in, the room was full. Drummond was in bed, reading hisnovel. The other ornaments of the dormitory were in various stages ofundress.

　　As Sheen appeared, a sudden hissing broke out from the farther cornerof the room. Sheen flushed, and walked to his bed. The hissingincreased in volume and richness.

　　"Shut up that noise," said Drummond, without looking up from his book.

　　The hissing diminished. Only two or three of the more reckless kept itup.

　　Drummond looked across the room at them.

　　"Stop that noise, and get into bed," he said quietly.

　　The hissing ceased. He went on with his book again.

　　Silence reigned in dormitory four.