The return journey of a school team after a crushing defeat in aforeign match is never a very exhilarating business. Those members ofthe side who have not yet received their colours are wondering which ofthem is to be sacrificed to popular indignation and "chucked": therest, who have managed to get their caps, are feeling that even nowtwo-thirds of the school will be saying that they are not worth a placein the third fifteen; while the captain, brooding apart, is becomingsoured at the thought that Posterity will forget what little good hemay have done, and remember only that it was in his year that theschool got so many points taken off them by So-and-So. Conversationdoes not ripple and sparkle during these home-comings. The Wrykyn teammade the journey in almost unbroken silence. They were all stiff andsore, and their feelings were such as to unfit them for talking topeople.
The school took the thing very philosophically--a bad sign. When aschool is in a healthy, normal condition, it should be stirred up by abad defeat by another school, like a disturbed wasps' nest. Wrykyn madeone or two remarks about people who could not play footer for toffee,and then let the thing drop.
Sheen was too busy with his work and his boxing to have much leisurefor mourning over this latest example of the present inefficiency ofthe school. The examination for the Gotford was to come off in twodays, and the inter-house boxing was fixed for the following Wednesday.
In five days, therefore, he would get his chance of retrieving his lostplace in the school. He was certain that he could, at any rate make avery good show against anyone in the school, even Drummond. Joe Bevanwas delighted with his progress, and quoted Shakespeare volubly in hisadmiration. Jack Bruce and Francis added their tribute, and the knifeand boot boy paid him the neatest compliment of all by refusingpoint-blank to have any more dealings with him whatsoever. Hisprofessional duties, explained the knife and boot boy, did not includebeing punched in the heye by blokes, and he did not intend to be putupon.
"You'll do all right," said Jack Bruce, as they were motoring home, "ifthey'll let you go in for it all. But how do you know they will? Havethey chosen the men yet?""Not yet. They don't do it till the day before. But there won't be anydifficulty about that. Drummond will let me have a shot if he thinksI'm good enough.""Oh, you're good enough," said Bruce.
And when, on Monday evening, Francis, on receipt of no fewer than fourblows in a single round--a record, shook him by the hand and said thatif ever he happened to want a leetle darg that was a perfect bag oftricks and had got a pedigree, mind you, he, Francis, would be proud tosupply that animal, Sheen felt that the moment had come to approachDrummond on the subject of the house boxing. It would be a littleawkward at first, and conversation would probably run somewhat stiffly;but all would be well once he had explained himself.
But things had been happening in his absence which complicated thesituation. Allardyce was having tea with Drummond, who had beenstopping in with a sore throat. He had come principally to makearrangements for the match between his house and Seymour's in thesemi-final round of the competition.
"You're looking bad," he said, taking a seat.
"I'm feeling bad," said Drummond. For the past few days he had beenvery much out of sorts. He put it down to a chill caught after theRipton match. He had never mustered up sufficient courage to spongehimself with cold water after soaking in a hot bath, and heoccasionally suffered for it.
"What's up?" inquired Allardyce.
"Oh, I don't know. Sort of beastly feeling. Sore throat. Nothing much.
Only it makes you feel rather rotten."Allardyce looked interested.
"I say," he said, "it looks as if--I wonder. I hope you haven't.""What?""Mumps. It sounds jolly like it.""Mumps! Of course I've not. Why should I?"Allardyce produced a letter from his pocket. "I got this from Keith,the Ripton captain, this morning. You know they've had a lot of thething there. Oh, didn't you? That was why they had such a bad teamout.""Bad team!" murmured Drummond.
"Well, I mean not their best team. They had four of their men down withmumps. Here's what Keith says. Listen. Bit about hoping we got back allright, and so on, first. Then he says--here it is, 'Another of ourfellows has got the mumps. One of the forwards; rather a long man whowas good out of touch. He developed it a couple of days after thematch. It's lucky that all our card games are over. We beat John's,Oxford, last Wednesday, and that finished the card. But it'll ratherrot up the House matches. We should have walked the cup, but there's noknowing what will happen now. I hope none of your lot caught the mumpsfrom Browning during the game. It's quite likely, of course. Browningought not to have been playing, but I had no notion that there wasanything wrong with him. He never said he felt bad.' You've got it,Drummond. That's what's the matter with you.""Oh, rot," said Drummond. "It's only a chill."But the school doctor, who had looked in at the house to dose a smallSeymourite who had indulged too heartily in the pleasures of the table,had other views, and before lockup Drummond was hurried off to theinfirmary.
Sheen went to Drummond's study after preparation had begun, and wassurprised to find him out. Not being on speaking terms with a singlemember of the house, he was always out-of-date as regarded items ofschool news. As a rule he had to wait until Jack Bruce told him beforelearning of any occurrence of interest. He had no notion that mumps wasthe cause of Drummond's absence, and he sat and waited patiently forhim in his study till the bell rang for prayers. The only possibleexplanation that occurred to him was that Drummond was in somebodyelse's study, and he could not put his theory to the test by going andlooking. It was only when Drummond did not put in an appearance atprayers that Sheen began to suspect that something might have happened.
It was maddening not to be able to make inquiries. He had almostdecided to go and ask Linton, and risk whatever might be theconsequences of such a step, when he remembered that the matron mustknow. He went to her, and was told that Drummond was in the infirmary.
He could not help seeing that this made his position a great deal moredifficult. In ten minutes he could have explained matters to Drummondif he had found him in his study. But it would be a more difficult taskto put the thing clearly in a letter.
Meanwhile, it was bed-time, and he soon found his hands too full withhis dormitory to enable him to think out the phrasing of that letter.
The dormitory, which was recruited entirely from the junior day-room,had heard of Drummond's departure with rejoicings. They liked Drummond,but he was a good deal too fond of the iron hand for their tastes. Anight with Sheen in charge should prove a welcome change.
A deafening uproar was going on when Sheen arrived, and as he came intothe room somebody turned the gas out. He found some matches on the chestof drawers, and lit it again just in time to see a sportive youth tearingthe clothes off his bed and piling them on the floor. A month before hewould not have known how to grapple with such a situation, but hisevenings with Joe Bevan had given him the habit of making up his mindand acting rapidly. Drummond was wont to keep a swagger-stick by hisbedside for the better observance of law and order. Sheen possessedhimself of this swagger-stick, and reasoned with the sportive youth.
The rest of the dormitory looked on in interested silence. It was acritical moment, and on his handling of it depended Sheen's victory ordefeat. If he did not keep his head he was lost. A dormitory ismerciless to a prefect whose weakness they have discovered.
Sheen kept his head. In a quiet, pleasant voice, fingering theswagger-stick, as he spoke, in an absent manner, he requested his youngfriend to re-make the bed--rapidly and completely. For the space offive minutes no sound broke the silence except the rustle of sheets andblankets. At the end of that period the bed looked as good as new.
"Thanks," said Sheen gratefully. "That's very kind of you."He turned to the rest of the dormitory.
"Don't let me detain you," he said politely. "Get into bed as soon asyou like."The dormitory got into bed sooner than they liked. For some reason thecolossal rag they had planned had fizzled out. They were thoughtful asthey crept between the sheets. Could these things be?
* * * * *After much deliberation Sheen sent his letter to Drummond on thefollowing day. It was not a long letter, but it was carefully worded.
It explained that he had taken up boxing of late, and ended with arequest that he might be allowed to act as Drummond's understudy in theHouse competitions.
It was late that evening when the infirmary attendant came over withthe answer.
Like the original letter, the answer was brief.
"Dear Sheen," wrote Drummond, "thanks for the offer. I am afraid Ican't accept it. We must have the best man. Linton is going to box forthe House in the Light-Weights."
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