What might be described as a mixed reception awaited the players asthey left the field. The pavilion and the parts about the pavilion railswere always packed on the last day of a final house-match, and even innormal circumstances there was apt to be a little sparring between thejuniors of the two houses which had been playing for the cup. In thepresent case, therefore, it was not surprising that Kay's fags took thedefeat badly. The thought that Fenn's presence at the beginning of theinnings, instead of at the end, would have made all the differencebetween a loss and a victory, maddened them. The crowd that seethedin front of the pavilion was a turbulent one.
For a time the operation of chairing Fenn up the steps occupied theactive minds of the Kayites. When he had disappeared into the firsteleven room, they turned their attention in other directions. Causticand uncomplimentary remarks began to fly to and fro between therepresentatives of Kay's and Blackburn's. It is not known who actuallyadministered the first blow. But, when Fenn came out of the pavilionwith Kennedy and Silver, he found a stirring battle in progress. Themembers of the other houses who had come to look on at the match stoodin knots, and gazed with approval at the efforts of Kay's andBlackburn's juniors to wipe each other off the face of the earth. Theair was full of shrill battle-cries, varied now and then by a smack ora thud, as some young but strenuous fist found a billet. The fortuneof war seemed to be distributed equally so far, and the combatantswere just warming to their work.
"Look here," said Kennedy, "we ought to stop this.""What's the good," said Fenn, without interest. "It pleases them, anddoesn't hurt anybody else.""All the same," observed Jimmy Silver, moving towards the nearestgroup of combatants, "free fights aren't quite the thing, somehow.
For, children, you should never let your angry passions rise; yourlittle hands were never made to tear each other's eyes. Dr Watts'
_Advice to Young Pugilists_. Drop it, you little beasts."He separated two heated youths who were just beginning a fourth round.
The rest of the warriors, seeing Silver and the others, called atruce, and Silver, having read a sort of Riot Act, moved on. Thejuniors of the beaten house, deciding that it would be better not toresume hostilities, consoled themselves by giving three groans for MrKay.
"What happened after I left you last night, Fenn?" asked Kennedy.
"Oh, I had one of my usual rows with Kay, only rather worse thanusual. I said one or two things he didn't like, and today the old mansent for me and told me to come to his room from two till four. Kayhad run me in for being 'grossly rude'. Listen to those kids. What arow they're making!""It's a beastly shame," said Kennedy despondently.
At the school shop Morrell, of Mulholland's, met them. He had beenspending the afternoon with a rug and a novel on the hills at the backof the school, and he wanted to know how the final house-match hadgone. Blackburn's had beaten Mulholland's in one of the early rounds.
Kennedy explained what had happened.
"We should have lost if Fenn had turned up earlier," he said. "He hada row with Kay, and Kay gave him a sort of extra between two andfour."Fenn, busily occupied with an ice, added no comment of his own to thisplain tale.
"Rough luck," said Morrell. "What's all that row out in the field?""That's Kay's kids giving three groans for Kay," explained Silver. "Atleast, they started with the idea of giving three groans. They've gotup to about three hundred by this time. It seems to have fascinatedthem. They won't leave off. There's no school rule against groaning inthe grounds, and they mean to groan till the end of the term.
Personally, I like the sound. But then, I'm fond of music."Morrell's face beamed with sudden pleasure. "I knew there wassomething I wanted to tell you," he said, "only I couldn't rememberwhat. Your saying you're fond of music reminds me. Mulholland'scrocked himself, and won't be able to turn out for the concert.""What!" cried Kennedy. "How did it happen? What's he done?"Mr Mulholland was the master who looked after the music of the school,a fine cricketer and keen sportsman. Had nothing gone wrong, he wouldhave conducted at the concert that night.
"I heard it from the matron at our place," said Morrell. "She's fullof it. Mulholland was batting at the middle net, and somebody else--Iforget who--was at the one next to it on the right. The bowler sentdown a long-hop to leg, and this Johnny had a smack at it, and sent itslap through the net, and it got Mulholland on the side of the head.
He was stunned for a bit, but he's getting all right again now. But hewon't be able to conduct tonight. Rather bad luck on the man,especially as he's so keen on the concert.""Who's going to sub for him?" asked Silver. "Perhaps they'll scratchthe show," suggested Kennedy.
"Oh, no," said Morrell, "it's all right. Kay is going to conduct. He'soften done it at choir practices when Mulholland couldn't turn up."Fenn put down his empty saucer with an emphatic crack on the counter.
"If Kay's going to run the show, I'm hanged if I turn up," he said.
"My dear chap, you can't get out of it now," said Kennedy anxiously.
He did not want to see Fenn plunging into any more strife with theauthorities this term.
"Think of the crowned heads who are coming to hear you," pleaded JimmySilver. "Think of the nobility and gentry. Think of me. You mustplay.""Ah, there you are, Fenn."Mr Kay had bustled in in his energetic way.
Fenn said nothing. He _was_ there. It was idle to deny it.
"I thought I should find you here. Yes, I wanted to see you about theconcert tonight. Mr Mulholland has met with an unfortunate accident,and I am looking after the entertainment in his place. Come with meand play over your piece. I should like to see that you are perfect init. Dear me, dear me, what a noise those boys are making. Why_are_ they behaving in that extraordinary way, I wonder!"Kay's juniors had left the pavilion, and were trooping back to theirhouse. At the present moment they were passing the school shop, andtheir tuneful voices floated in through the open window.
"This is very unusual. Why, they seem to be boys in my house. They aregroaning.""I think they are a little upset at the result of the match, sir,"said Jimmy Silver suavely. "Fenn did not arrive, for some reason, tillthe end of the innings, so Mr Blackburn's won. The wicket was good,but a little fiery.""Thank you, Silver," replied Mr Kay with asperity. "When I requireexplanations I will ask for them."He darted out of the shop, and a moment later they heard him pouringout a flood of recriminations on the groaning fags.
"There was _once_ a man who snubbed me," said Jimmy Silver. "Theyburied him at Brookwood. Well, what are you going to do, Fenn? Goingto play tonight? Harkee, boy. Say but the word, and I will beard thistyrant to his face."Fenn rose.
"Yes," he said briefly, "I shall play. You'd better turn up. I thinkyou'll enjoy it."Silver said that no human power should keep him away.
* * * * *The School concert was always one of the events of the summer term.
There was a concert at the end of the winter term, too, but it was notso important. To a great many of those present the summer concertmarked, as it were, the last flutter of their school life. On themorrow they would be Old Boys, and it behoved them to extract as muchenjoyment from the function as they could. Under Mr Mullholland's rulethe concert had become a very flourishing institution. He aimed at ahigh standard, and reached it. There was more than a touch of theaustere about the music. A glance at the programme was enough to showthe lover of airs of the trashy, clashy order that this was no placefor him. Most of the items were serious. When it was thought necessaryto introduce a lighter touch, some staidly rollicking number wasinserted, some song that was saved--in spite of a catchy tune--by ahalo of antiquity. Anything modern was taboo, unless it were the workof Gotsuchakoff, Thingummyowsky, or some other eminent foreigner.
Foreign origin made it just possible.
The school prefects lurked during the performance at the doors and atthe foot of the broad stone steps that led to the Great Hall. It wastheir duty to supply visitors with programmes.
Jimmy Silver had foregathered with Kennedy, Challis, and Williams atthe junior door. The hall was full now, and their labours consequentlyat an end.
"Pretty good 'gate'," said Silver, looking in through the open door.
"It must be warm up in the gallery."Across the further end of the hall a dais had been erected. On thisthe bulk of the school sat, leaving the body of the hall to thecrowned heads, nobility, and gentry to whom Silver had referred in hisconversation with Fenn.
"It always is warm in the gallery," said Challis. "I lost about twostone there every concert when I was a kid. We simply used to sit andmelt.""And I tell you what," broke in Silver, "it's going to get warmerbefore the end of the show. Do you notice that all Kay's house aresitting in a lump at the back. I bet they're simply spoiling for arow. Especially now Kay's running the concert. There's going to be ahot time in the old town tonight--you see if there isn't. Hark at'em."The choir had just come to the end of a little thing of Handel's.
There was no reason to suppose that the gallery appreciated Handel.
Nevertheless, they were making a deafening noise. Clouds of dust rosefrom the rhythmical stamping of many feet. The noise was loudest andthe dust thickest by the big window, beneath which sat the men fromKay's. Things were warming up.
The gallery, with one last stamp which nearly caused the dais tocollapse, quieted down. The masters in the audience looked serious.
One or two of the visitors glanced over their shoulders with a smile.
How excited the dear boys were at the prospect of holidays! Youngblood! Young blood! Boys _would_ be boys.
The concert continued. Half-way through the programme there was a tenminutes' interval. Fenn's pianoforte solo was the second item of thesecond half.
He mounted the platform amidst howls of delight from the gallery.
Applause at the Eckleton concerts was granted more for services in theplaying-fields than merit as a musician. Kubelik or Paderewski wouldhave been welcomed with a few polite handclaps. A man in the eleven orfifteen was certain of two minutes' unceasing cheers.
"Evidently one of their heroes, my dear," said Paterfamilias toMaterfamilias. "I suppose he has won a scholarship at the University."Paterfamilias' mind was accustomed to run somewhat upon scholarshipsat the University. What the school wanted was a batting average offorty odd or a bowling analysis in single figures.
Fenn played the "Moonlight Sonata". A trained musical critic wouldprobably have found much to cavil at in his rendering of the piece,but it was undoubtedly good for a public school player. Of course hewas encored. The gallery would have encored him if he had played withone finger, three mistakes to every bar.
"I told Fenn," said Jimmy Silver, "if he got an encore, that he oughtto play the--My aunt! _He is!_"Three runs and half-a-dozen crashes, and there was no further room fordoubt. Fenn was playing the "Coon Band Contest".
"He's gone mad," gasped Kennedy.
Whether he had or not, it is certain that the gallery had. All theevening they had been stewing in an atmosphere like that of the innerroom of a Turkish bath, and they were ready for anything. It neededbut a trifle to set them off. The lilt of that unspeakable Yankeemelody supplied that trifle. Kay's malcontents, huddled in their seatsby the window, were the first to break out. Feet began to stamp intime to the music--softly at first, then more loudly. The wooden daisgave out the sound like a drum.
Other rioters joined in from the right. The noise spread through thegallery as a fire spreads through gorse. Soon three hundred pairs ofwell-shod feet were rising and falling. Somebody began to whistle.
Everybody whistled. Mr Kay was on his feet, gesticulating wildly. Hiswords were lost in the uproar.
For five minutes the din prevailed. Then, with a final crash, Fennfinished. He got up from the music-stool, bowed, and walked back tohis place by the senior door. The musical efforts of the gallerychanged to a storm of cheering and clapping.
The choir rose to begin the next piece.
Still the noise continued.
People began to leave the Hall--in ones and twos first, then in asteady stream which blocked the doorways. It was plain to the dullestintelligence that if there was going to be any more concert, it wouldhave to be performed in dumb show. Mr Kay flung down his baton.
The visitors had left by now, and the gallery was beginning to followtheir example, howling as it went.
"Well," said Jimmy Silver cheerfully, as he went with Kennedy down thesteps, "I _think_ we may call that a record. By my halidom,there'll be a row about this later on."
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