Though fourteen was the age of possible admission, very few boys were qualified6 until they were at least a year older, and consequently there was no organised system of fagging, and flogging was a very rare and extreme measure; but otherwise the system somewhat resembled that of the large public schools. The head-master and three other masters each had a house full of boarders, whose preparation of lessons on certain subjects he superintended; and every boy had a separate apartment, which was his study and bedroom.
It was an expensive school, and the discipline of Dr Jolliffe was more lax than many parents and guardians7 quite liked; and yet few of the boys who went there were rich. It was very rarely, that is, that one of them had not to make his own way in the world. And the number, which was limited, was always complete. For results speak for themselves, and the examination lists showed triumphant8 successes for Weston. It is true that if they only took boys of considerable proficiency, and got rid of all who made no progress, they might be expected to show a good average; but then, on the other hand, there was no cramming9, and every encouragement was given to healthy athletic10 exercise. Three or four years were taken to do the work which is too often jammed into a few months. That was the secret; and, though of course there were failures, it answered well on the whole.
This is an explanatory digression, just to let you know what sort of stage our characters are acting11 upon.
It was Saturday afternoon, and a half-holiday, and there was only one boy left in Dr Jolliffe’s house. His name was Buller, and he was neither sick nor under punishment. His window was wide open, for it was very hot and stuffy12 in his little room, into which the sun poured, and on the other side of a lane which ran underneath13 was the cricket-field, from which the thud of balls struck by the bat, voices, and laughter resounded14 in a way to tempt15 any fellow out of his hole. But there he stuck with his elbows on the table and his head in his hands, forcing himself to concentrate his attention upon a book which lay open before him.
“Because a divided by b equals c divided by d,” he murmured, “the first quotients m m are equal. Yes, I see that; again, since a divided by b equals m plus x divided by b, and c divided by d equals m plus r divided by d, hum, hum, why, in the name of all that’s blue—oh, yes! I see. But then—oh, a thousand blisters16 on the idiot who invented this rot! But I won’t be licked.”
And he began again and again, sticking to it for another half-hour, when he suddenly cried out, “I have it! What a double-distilled ass4 I am! Of course it is simple enough. If a divided by b equals c divided by d, and a and b be prime to each other, c and d are equimultiples of a and b. Of course they are; how could they be anything else? The other fellows saw it at once, no doubt. What a lot of trouble it gives one to be a fool! Now, I’ll go and practise bowling17.”
Buller was no fool; indeed he would not have thought himself one if he had been; but he was slow at everything—learning, games, accomplishments—though he had this compensation, no slight one either, that when he had once mastered a thing he had got it for ever. His school-fellows called him a duffer, but it did not vex18 him in the least, for he considered it a mere19 statement of a patent fact, and was no more offended than if they had said that he had two legs. But he had a strong belief that perseverance20, sticking, he called it, could make up in a great measure for want of natural ability. The fable21 of the hare and tortoise had given him great encouragement, and, finding in practice that he passed boys who had far more brilliant parts than himself, he never gave way to despair, however hopeless the task before him might seem.
His ambition—never expressed, however, to anyone—was to get into the eleven. Had it been known it would have been thought the very height of absurdity22, and have become such a standing23 joke that its realisation would have been rendered well nigh impossible. It proved that Buller had sound sense that he was able to see this. He did not much expect to succeed, but he meant to try all he knew ever since the day he was called “old butter-fingers” in a game in which he showed especial incapacity to catch the ball. He began by mastering that; whenever he could he got fellows to give him catches. He practised throwing the ball up in the air and catching24 it again. When he went home for the holidays he would carry a tennis-ball in his pocket, and take every opportunity of throwing it against a wall and taking it at the rebound25 with both hands, with the right hand, and with the left. At last he got quite dexterous—and sinistrous, too, for that matter.
But the mere fact of being able to manipulate the ball smartly, though it is of supreme26 importance in cricket, would never gain him admission into the eleven of his house, let alone that of the school. For that, as he well knew, he must cultivate a speciality, and he decided27 upon bowling. Wicket-keeping could only be practised in a regular game, and no side would agree to let him fill the post—it was not likely. Batting everyone wanted to practise, and it would be very rarely that he would be able to get a good bowler28 to bowl for him. There was a professional, indeed, who was always in the cricket-fields during the season, but his services were generally in request, and, besides, they were expensive, and Tom Buller had not much pocket-money. But there was almost always some fellow who was glad to get balls given to him, and, if not, you can set a stump29 up in front of a net and bowl at that.
To have worked all this out in his mind did not look like lack of intelligence or observation, and to act upon it steadily30, without saying a word about it to anybody, showed considerable steadfastness31 and resolution. He now put his algebra and papers into his bureau, took out his cricket-ball and ran down-stairs and round to the fields. At first it seemed as if he would be obliged to have recourse to his solitary32 stump, for, it being the Saturday half-holiday, there were two matches going on, and those present not taking part in them were playing lawn-tennis. But presently he espied33 Robarts, who had been in and out again in the game he was engaged in, and was now waiting for the innings of his side to be over, standing in front of a net, bat in hand, with two boys bowling to him.
“May I give you a ball, Robarts?” he asked.
“Of course you may, Buller; the more the merrier,” was the reply; “only, if you are so wide as to miss the net, you must go after the ball yourself.” And Robarts raised his bat, prepared for a good swipe if the ball came within reach, which he did not much expect.
Buller measured his distance, took a short run, and sent the ball in with the energy begotten34 of long mugging at algebra on a fine afternoon. Every muscle in his body seemed to long for violent exertion35; the pent-up strength in him, like steam, demanded an outlet36, and, with his hand rather higher than the shoulder, he sent the ball in with a will.
“By Jove! that was straight enough, and a hot one too!” exclaimed Robarts, who had only just managed to block it. “It made my hands tingle37.”
The two others delivered their balls, which were hit away right and left, and then Buller came again with another which had to be blocked. The other bowlers38 who had been playing, and were going in again presently, were glad to stop and leave Buller to work away alone, which he did in a deliberate, determined39 manner, proving that his first attempts were not chance shots. Twice he sent the wickets down, and once, when the ball was driven back to him, he caught it with the left hand, high up.
“Well,” said Robarts when he was called away to go and field, “and you are the fellow they called a duffer! Why, it is like magic! Were you playing dark last year, or what?”
“No; but I have been practising.”
“You have practised to some purpose, then. If you could only vary your bowling a little more you would be very dangerous. You see, if you always send the same sort of ball, a fellow knows how to meet it after a bit.”
Robarts as an all-round player was only reckoned inferior to Crawley, and his words of approval were very gratifying to Buller, who felt himself a step nearer one particular goal. He did not indulge in daydreams40, however, not being of an imaginative disposition41. The actual difficulty which he had to master at the time took up all his thoughts and energies, and the distant object to be attained42, though never absolutely lost sight of, was never dwelt upon or brooded over.
He at once looked about for someone else to bowl for, and found his particular chum, Penryhn, who, after fagging out through the heat of the day, had gone to the wicket with the sun in his eyes, and been clean bowled the first ball.
“Will you really bowl for me?” he said eagerly in reply to Buller’s offer. “What a good fellow you are!”
“Why? for doing what I want? That is laying in a stock of good works cheap. You won’t mind a few wides, I hope; Robarts says there is too great a sameness about my bowling, so I want to practise twisters and shooters. You won’t mind if I bowl at your legs?”
“Not a bit; ignis via—fire away.”
The necessity for violent exertion had been taken out of Buller, indeed it was now oozing43 away from every pore of his skin. So he did not try fast bowling, except now and then when he attempted to put in a shooter, but concentrated his attention principally upon placing his ball, or on pitching it to leg with an inward twist towards the wicket. He constantly failed; sent easy ones which were hit about to the peril44 of neighbouring players; cut Penryhn over once on the knee-cap and once on the ankle. But he never once delivered the ball carelessly, or without a definite object. And when his arm got so tired that his mind could no longer direct it, he left off and Penryhn bowled in turn to him, his great object then being to keep an upright bat rather than to hit.
“I’ll tell you what, Tom, you have improved in your cricket awfully,” said Penryhn as they strolled back in the dusk. “Why, you took Robarts’ wickets twice.”
“Yes, but I should not have done it in a game; fellows step out and hit recklessly in practice.”
“No matter for that; you are quite a different bowler from what you were.”
“The fact is it takes me all my time to learn to do what comes to other fellows naturally.”
“That’s a bit too deep for me; some fellows can do one thing easily and others another, and every fellow has to work hard to learn those things which belong, as it were, to the other fellows. There are chaps, I suppose, like the Admirable Crichton, who are born good all round, and can play the fiddle45, polish off Euclid, ride, shoot, lick anyone at any game, all without the slightest trouble, but one does not come across them often, thank goodness. I say, do you know what genius is?”
“Not exactly; that is, I could not define it.”
“Well, I have heard my father say that some very clever chap has said that it is ‘an infinite capacity for taking pains,’ and if that’s true, by Jove, you must be a genius, Tom!”
And they both burst out laughing at the notion, and went in and changed their flannels46. And Buller lit his candle and mugged at a German exercise till the supper-bell rang.
Half-holidays did not necessarily preclude47 work in the tutor’s pupil-rooms, which was preparatory to that in school, though practically the hours of recreation were never
interfered48 with in fine weather. But after the hour of “All In,” as the local phrase went, when the roll was called, and every boy had to be in for the night, an hour which varied49 with the time of the year, it was different. And on this Saturday evening Mr Cookson had some arrears50 of Historical Theme correction to make up. For since history plays a considerable part in modern competitive examinations, every boy had to read up a certain portion of some standard work every week, and write a theme upon it, without the book, in the pupil-room. This theme was looked over with him by his tutor before being sent in to the head-master, and if it did not reach a certain standard it was torn up, and he had to read the subject again and write another one. Edwards was one of the essayists whose paper had not yet been examined, and he stood at this tutor’s elbow while he read it over. “‘After he had been some years in England Sir Elijah Impey was tried by Doctors’ Commons.’” “House of Commons, boy,” said Mr Cookson, “people are not impeached51 at Doctors’ Commons, that’s where wills are proved,” and he made a correction,—“‘and proved he hadn’t murdered the rajah. And so Sir Philip Francis, the author of a book called Junius, the writer of which was never discovered,’”—“why, that’s a bull;” Mr Cookson could not help chuckling52 as he made a dash and a correction,—“‘and deaf Burke,’”—“‘I never heard that he was deaf—oh, that was another man, a prize-fighter, ho, ho, ho, ahem!’”—“‘and Burke were very much ashamed of themselves, and were hissed53, and never alluded54 to the subject, from which originated the phrase of “burking the question,”’”—“Pooh, pooh, never make shots like that:”—“‘and Sir Elijah Impey was found Not Guilty, and all his property was taken from him to pay the lawyers with.’” “Well, well, it’s not so bad,” said Mr Cookson, signing his name at the bottom of the last page. “And now, Edwards,” he added, turning and looking the boy straight in the eyes, “I have a good mind to have you flogged.”
“Me, sir!” exclaimed Edwards, turning pale; “what for, sir?”
“Doctor Jolliffe does not flog for many things, but there are certain offences he never fails to visit with the utmost severity. Smoking is one of them.”
“I assure you, sir, I have not—”
“Lying is another, so do not finish your sentence. I can smell the stale tobacco.”
And indeed Edwards was wearing the jacket in which he had indulged in that emetical luxury, his first cigar, two evenings previously55.
“But really, sir, it is no lie,” he urged; “I have not been smoking, and I cannot tell where the smell comes from, unless it is my jacket, which I wore in the holidays, when I sat in the room with my father when he was having his cigar sometimes, and which has been in my box till the other day. I am certain it cannot be my breath or anything else.”
“Come nearer; no, your breath and hair are free from the taint56. Well, it may be as you say, and I am loth to suspect you of falsehood. But listen to me, my boy; I am not assuming that you have been smoking, mind, but only, as we are on the subject, that you might do so. It may seem very arbitrary that the rules against it are so very severe, considering how general the practice is, but they are wise for all that. However harmless it may be for those who have come to their full growth, smoking tobacco is certainly very injurious to lads who are not matured. And indeed until the habit is acquired—it affects the digestion57 and the memory of every one. Now, in these days of competitive examinations, when every young fellow on entering life has to struggle to get his foot on the first rung of the ladder, and all his future prospects58 depend on his doing better than others, how inexpressibly silly it is for him to handicap himself needlessly by taking a narcotic59 which confuses his brain and impairs60 his memory, and which affords him no pleasure whatever. I treat you as a rational being, and appeal to your common sense, and speak as your friend. Now, go.”
Edwards was not such a ready liar61 as you may think him, though he certainly prevaricated62. He had worn that jacket in his father’s smoking-room, and it had lain in his box during the early part of the term. He had not smoked again since the occasion commemorated63, and that was two days previously, and he persuaded himself that his tutor’s question applied64 to that day. But he knew in his heart that it didn’t, and with the kind tones of his tutor’s voice ringing in his ears he felt as if he ought to be kicked.
But when he went up to his room he found Saurin there, and any feelings of self-reproach he had had soon melted away.
“What’s up, now?” asked his friend. “You look as if you had seen a ghost.”
“I nearly got into an awful row, I can tell you!” replied Edwards. “My tutor smelt65 my jacket of smoke while he was correcting my theme.”
“By Jove! And how did you get out of it?”
“I told him I had worn the jacket in my father’s smoking-room.”
“Ha, ha, ha! that was a good un. Well done, old fellow! I did not think you had so much presence of mind. You will make your way yet.”
Edwards was on the point of protesting that what he said was the fact, but his guide, philosopher, and friend seemed so much pleased with the ingenuity66 of his plea that he could not bear to rob himself of the credit of it, and so he looked as knowing as he conveniently could, and chuckled67, taking a pride in what five minutes before he was ashamed of.
“That’s the worst of cigar-smoking, the smell clings so to the clothes and hair. Now, a pipe is much easier to get sweet again after, unless, of course, you carry it about in your pocket. Wore the jacket in your father’s smoking-room about a month ago! and old Cookson was soft enough to swallow that. How old Slam would chuckle68! I must tell him.”
“Do you know, I am not quite certain that my tutor did altogether believe that I had not been smoking,” said Edwards, his conscience stirring again a little bit now that he saw the man who had spoken so kindly69 to him incurring70 the terrible risk of forfeiting71 Saurin’s esteem72 through a false imputation73 of too great credulity. “You see, he’s a good-natured chap, and I think he wanted to believe if he could, and as my hair and breath did not smell, he gave me the benefit of the doubt.”
“Thought it would bring discredit74 on his house if it were known to contain a monster who smoked tobacco,” said Saurin, “and so was glad to pretend to believe the papa-smoking-room story. Well, it is possible; old Cookson may not be so great a fool as he looks. Anyhow, I am glad for your sake that he did not report you; old Jolliffe would not have been humbugged. He would have said, ‘Your jacket stinks75 of tobacco, and jackets don’t smoke of themselves.’ And you would have got it hot, old fellow, for Jolliffe is mad against smoking.”
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1
proficiency
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| n.精通，熟练，精练 | |
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2
algebra
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| n.代数学 | |
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farce
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| n.闹剧，笑剧，滑稽戏；胡闹 | |
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ass
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| n.驴；傻瓜，蠢笨的人 | |
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neophyte
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| n.新信徒；开始者 | |
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qualified
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| adj.合格的，有资格的，胜任的，有限制的 | |
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guardians
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| 监护人( guardian的名词复数 )； 保护者，维护者 | |
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8
triumphant
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| adj.胜利的，成功的；狂欢的，喜悦的 | |
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9
cramming
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| n.塞满，填鸭式的用功v.塞入( cram的现在分词 )；填塞；塞满；（为考试而）死记硬背功课 | |
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10
athletic
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| adj.擅长运动的，强健的；活跃的，体格健壮的 | |
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acting
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| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
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12
stuffy
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| adj.不透气的，闷热的 | |
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13
underneath
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| adj.在...下面，在...底下；adv.在下面 | |
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14
resounded
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| v.（指声音等）回荡于某处( resound的过去式和过去分词 )；产生回响；（指某处）回荡着声音 | |
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tempt
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| vt.引诱，勾引，吸引，引起…的兴趣 | |
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blisters
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| n.水疱( blister的名词复数 )；水肿；气泡 | |
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bowling
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| n.保龄球运动 | |
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vex
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| vt.使烦恼，使苦恼 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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perseverance
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| n.坚持不懈，不屈不挠 | |
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fable
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| n.寓言；童话；神话 | |
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absurdity
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| n.荒谬，愚蠢；谬论 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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rebound
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| v.弹回；n.弹回，跳回 | |
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supreme
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| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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bowler
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| n.打保龄球的人，（板球的）投（球）手 | |
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stump
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| n.残株，烟蒂，讲演台；v.砍断，蹒跚而走 | |
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steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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steadfastness
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| n.坚定，稳当 | |
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solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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espied
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| v.看到( espy的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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begotten
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| v.为…之生父( beget的过去分词 )；产生，引起 | |
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exertion
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| n.尽力，努力 | |
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outlet
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| n.出口/路；销路；批发商店；通风口；发泄 | |
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tingle
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| vi.感到刺痛，感到激动；n.刺痛，激动 | |
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bowlers
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| n.（板球）投球手( bowler的名词复数 )；圆顶高帽 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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daydreams
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| n.白日梦( daydream的名词复数 )v.想入非非，空想( daydream的第三人称单数 ) | |
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disposition
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| n.性情，性格；意向，倾向；排列，部署 | |
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attained
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| （通常经过努力）实现( attain的过去式和过去分词 )； 达到； 获得； 达到（某年龄、水平、状况） | |
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43
oozing
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| v.（浓液等）慢慢地冒出，渗出( ooze的现在分词 )；使（液体）缓缓流出；（浓液）渗出，慢慢流出 | |
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peril
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| n.(严重的)危险；危险的事物 | |
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fiddle
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| n.小提琴；vi.拉提琴；不停拨弄，乱动 | |
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flannels
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| 法兰绒男裤； 法兰绒( flannel的名词复数 ) | |
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preclude
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| vt.阻止，排除，防止；妨碍 | |
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interfered
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| v.干预( interfere的过去式和过去分词 )；调停；妨碍；干涉 | |
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varied
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| adj.多样的，多变化的 | |
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arrears
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| n.到期未付之债，拖欠的款项；待做的工作 | |
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51
impeached
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| v.控告（某人）犯罪( impeach的过去式和过去分词 )；弹劾；对（某事物）怀疑；提出异议 | |
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52
chuckling
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的现在分词 ) | |
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53
hissed
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| 发嘶嘶声( hiss的过去式和过去分词 )； 发嘘声表示反对 | |
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alluded
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| 提及，暗指( allude的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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previously
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| adv.以前，先前（地） | |
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56
taint
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| n.污点；感染；腐坏；v.使感染；污染 | |
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digestion
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| n.消化，吸收 | |
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prospects
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| n.希望，前途(恒为复数) | |
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59
narcotic
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| n.麻醉药，镇静剂；adj.麻醉的，催眠的 | |
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impairs
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| v.损害，削弱( impair的第三人称单数 ) | |
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liar
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| n.说谎的人 | |
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62
prevaricated
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| v.支吾( prevaricate的过去式和过去分词 )；搪塞；说谎 | |
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63
commemorated
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| v.纪念，庆祝( commemorate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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applied
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| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
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smelt
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| v.熔解，熔炼；n.银白鱼，胡瓜鱼 | |
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ingenuity
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| n.别出心裁；善于发明创造 | |
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67
chuckled
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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chuckle
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| vi.／n.轻声笑，咯咯笑 | |
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69
kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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incurring
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| 遭受，招致，引起( incur的现在分词 ) | |
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forfeiting
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| （因违反协议、犯规、受罚等）丧失，失去( forfeit的现在分词 ) | |
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esteem
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| n.尊敬，尊重；vt.尊重，敬重；把…看作 | |
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imputation
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| n.归罪，责难 | |
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discredit
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| vt.使不可置信；n.丧失信义；不信，怀疑 | |
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stinks
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| v.散发出恶臭( stink的第三人称单数 )；发臭味；名声臭；糟透 | |
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