"What" shouted Kennedy.
He sprang to his feet as if he had had an electric shock.
Jimmy Silver, having satisfied his passion for the dramatic by theabruptness with which he had exploded his mine, now felt himself atliberty to be sympathetic.
"It's quite true," he said. "And that's just how I felt when Blackburntold me. Blackburn's as sick as anything. Naturally he doesn't see thepoint of handing you over to Kay. But the Old Man insisted, so hecaved in. He wanted to see you as soon as you arrived. You'd better gonow. I'll finish your packing."This was noble of Jimmy, for of all the duties of life he loathedpacking most.
"Thanks awfully," said Kennedy, "but don't you bother. I'll do it whenI get back. But what's it all about? What made Kay want a man? Whywon't Fenn do? And why me?""Well, it's easy to see why they chose you. They reflected that you'dhad the advantage of being in Blackburn's with me, and seeing how ahouse really should be run. Kay wants a head for his house. Off hegoes to the Old Man. 'Look here,' he says, 'I want somebody shuntedinto my happy home, or it'll bust up. And it's no good trying to putme off with an inferior article, because I won't have it. It must besomebody who's been trained from youth up by Silver.' 'Then,' says theOld Man, reflectively, 'you can't do better than take Kennedy. Ihappen to know that Silver has spent years in showing him the straightand narrow path. You take Kennedy.' 'All right,' says Kay; 'I alwaysthought Kennedy a bit of an ass myself, but if he's studied underSilver he ought to know how to manage a house. I'll take him. Adviseour Mr Blackburn to that effect, and ask him to deliver the goods athis earliest convenience. Adoo, mess-mate, adoo!' And there youare--that's how it was.""But what's wrong with Fenn?""My dear chap! Remember last term. Didn't Fenn have a regular scrapwith Kay, and get shoved into extra for it? And didn't he wreck theconcert in the most sportsmanlike way with that encore of his? Thinkthe Old Man is going to take that grinning? Not much! Fenn made aripping fifty against Kent in the holidays--I saw him do it--but theydon't count that. It's a wonder they didn't ask him to leave. Ofcourse, I think it's jolly rough on Fenn, but I don't see that you canblame them. Not the Old Man, at any rate. He couldn't do anythingelse. It's all Kay's fault that all this has happened, of course. I'mawfully sorry for you having to go into that beastly hole, but fromKay's point of view it's a jolly sound move. You may reform theplace.""I doubt it.""So do I--very much. I didn't say you would--I said you might. Iwonder if Kay means to give you a free hand. It all depends on that.""Yes. If he's going to interfere with me as he used to with Fenn,he'll want to bring in another head to improve on me.""Rather a good idea, that," said Jimmy Silver, laughing, as he alwaysdid when any humorous possibilities suggested themselves to him. "Ifhe brings in somebody to improve on you, and then somebody else toimprove on him, and then another chap to improve on him, he ought tohave a decent house in half-a-dozen years or so.""The worst of it is," said Kennedy, "that I've got to go to Kay's as asort of rival to Fenn. I shouldn't mind so much if it wasn't for that.
I wonder how he'll take it! Do you think he knows about it yet? Hedidn't enjoy being head, but that's no reason why he shouldn't cut uprough at being shoved back to second prefect. It's a beastlysituation.""Beastly," agreed Jimmy Silver. "Look here," he added, after a pause,"there's no reason, you know, why this should make any difference. Tous, I mean. What I mean to say is, I don't see why we shouldn't seeeach other just as often, and so on, simply because you are in anotherhouse, and all that sort of thing. You know what I mean."He spoke shamefacedly, as was his habit whenever he was serious. Heliked Kennedy better than anyone he knew, and hated to show hisfeelings. Anything remotely connected with sentiment made himuncomfortable.
"Of course," said Kennedy, awkwardly.
"You'll want a refuge," said Silver, in his normal manner, "now thatyou're going to see wild life in Kay's. Don't forget that I'm alwaysat home in my study in the afternoons--admission on presentation of avisiting-card.""All right," said Kennedy, "I'll remember. I suppose I'd better go andsee Blackburn now."Mr Blackburn was in his study. He was obviously disgusted andirritated by what had happened. Loyalty to the headmaster, and anappreciation of his position as a member of the staff led him to tryand conceal his feelings as much as possible in his interview withKennedy, but the latter understood as plainly as if his house-masterhad burst into a flow of abuse and complaint. There had always been anexcellent understanding--indeed, a friendship--between Kennedy and MrBlackburn, and the master was just as sorry to lose his second prefectas the latter was to go.
"Well, Kennedy," he said, pleasantly. "I hope you had a good time inthe holidays. I suppose Silver has told you the melancholy news--thatyou are to desert us this term? It is a great pity. We shall all bevery sorry to lose you. I don't look forward to seeing you bowl us allout in the house-matches next summer," he added, with a smile, "thoughwe shall expect a few full-pitches to leg, for the sake of old times."He meant well, but the picture he conjured up almost made Kennedybreak down. Nothing up to the present had made him realise thecompleteness of his exile so keenly as this remark of Mr Blackburn'sabout his bowling against the side for which he had taken so manywickets in the past. It was a painful thought.
"I am afraid you won't have quite such a pleasant time in Mr Kay's asyou have had here," resumed the house-master. "Of course, I know that,strictly speaking, I ought not to talk like this about anothermaster's house; but you can scarcely be unaware of the reasons thathave led to this change. You must know that you are being sent to pullMr Kay's house together. This is strictly between ourselves, ofcourse. I think you have a difficult task before you, but I don'tfancy that you will find it too much for you. And mind you come hereas often as you please. I am sure Silver and the others will be gladto see you. Goodbye, Kennedy. I think you ought to be getting acrossnow to Mr Kay's. I told him that you would be there before half-pastnine. Good night.""Good night, sir," said Kennedy.
He wandered out into the house dining-room. Somehow, though Kay's wasonly next door, he could not get rid of the feeling that he was aboutto start on a long journey, and would never see his old house again.
And in a sense this was so. He would probably visit Blackburn'stomorrow afternoon, but it would not be the same. Jimmy Silver wouldgreet him like a brother, and he would brew in the same study in whichhe had always brewed, and sit in the same chair; but it would not bethe same. He would be an outsider, a visitor, a stranger within thegates, and--worst of all--a Kayite. Nothing could alter that.
The walk of the dining-room were covered with photographs of the housecricket and football teams for the last fifteen years. Looking atthem, he felt more than ever how entirely his school life had beenbound up in his house. From his first day at Eckleton he had beentaught the simple creed of the Blackburnite, that Eckleton was thefinest school in the three kingdoms, and that Blackburn's was thefinest house in the finest school.
Under the gas-bracket by the door hung the first photograph in whichhe appeared, the cricket team of four years ago. He had just got thelast place in front of Challis on the strength of a tremendous catchfor the house second in a scratch game two days before thehouse-matches began. It had been a glaring fluke, but it had impressedDenny, the head of the house, who happened to see it, and had won himhis place.
He walked round the room, looking at each photograph in turn. Itseemed incredible that he had no longer any right to an interest inthe success of Blackburn's. He could have endured leaving all thiswhen his time at school was up, for that would have been the naturalresult of the passing of years. But to be transplanted abruptly andwith a wrench from his native soil was too much. He went upstairs topack, suffering from as severe an attack of the blues as any youth ofeighteen had experienced since blues were first invented.
Jimmy Silver hovered round, while he packed, with expressions ofsympathy and bitter remarks concerning Mr Kay and his wicked works,and, when the operation was concluded, helped Kennedy carry his boxover to his new house with the air of one seeing a friend off to theparts beyond the equator.
It was ten o'clock by the time the front door of Kay's closed upon itsnew head. Kennedy went to the matron's sanctum to be instructed in thegeography of the house. The matron, a severe lady, whose faith inhuman nature had been terribly shaken by five years of office inKay's, showed him his dormitory and study with a lack of genialitywhich added a deeper tinge of azure to Kennedy's blues. "So you'vecome to live here, have you?" her manner seemed to say; "well, I pityyou, that's all. A nice time _you're_ going to have."Kennedy spent the half-hour before going to bed in unpacking his boxfor the second time, and arranging his books and photographs in thestudy which had been Wayburn's. He had nothing to find fault with inthe study. It was as large as the one he had owned at Blackburn's,and, like it, looked out over the school grounds.
At half-past ten the gas gave a flicker and went out, turned off atthe main. Kennedy lit a candle and made his way to his dormitory.
There now faced him the more than unpleasant task of introducinghimself to its inmates. He knew from experience the disconcerting wayin which a dormitory greets an intruder. It was difficult to know howto begin matters. It would take a long time, he thought, to explainhis presence to their satisfaction.
Fortunately, however, the dormitory was not unprepared. Things getabout very quickly in a house. The matron had told the housemaids; thehousemaids had handed it on to their ally, the boot boy; the boot boyhad told Wren, whom he happened to meet in the passage, and Wren hadtold everybody else.
There was an uproar going on when Kennedy opened the door, but it diedaway as he appeared, and the dormitory gazed at the newcomer inabsolute and embarrassing silence. Kennedy had not felt so consciousof the public eye being upon him since he had gone out to bat againstthe M.C.C., on his first appearance in the ranks of the Eckletoneleven. He went to his bed and began to undress without a word,feeling rather than seeing the eyes that were peering at him. When hehad completed the performance of disrobing, he blew out the candle andgot into bed. The silence was broken by numerous coughs, of thatshort, suggestive type with which the public schoolboy loves toembarrass his fellow man. From some unidentified corner of the roomcame a subdued giggle. Then a whispered, "Shut _up_, you fool!"To which a low voice replied, "All _right,_ I'm not doinganything."More coughs, and another outbreak of giggling from a fresh quarter.
"Good night," said Kennedy, to the room in general.
There was no reply. The giggler appeared to be rapidly approachinghysterics.
"Shut up that row," said Kennedy.
The giggling ceased.
The atmosphere was charged with suspicion. Kennedy fell asleep fearingthat he was going to have trouble with his dormitory before manynights had passed.
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |