HIS name was Brownell and his reign1 was brief. He came from the Central Anglican Scholastic2 Agency, a soured, clever, reddish man picked up by the Head at the very last moment of the summer holidays in default of Macrea (of Macrea’s House) who wired from Switzerland that he had smashed a knee mountaineering, and would not be available that term.
Looking back at the affair, one sees that the Head should have warned Mr. Brownell of the College’s outstanding peculiarity4, instead of leaving him to discover it for himself the first day of the term, when he went for a walk to the beach, and saw ‘Potiphar’ Mullins, Head of Games, smoking without conceal5 on the sands. ‘Pot,’ having the whole of the Autumn Football challenges, acceptances, and Fifteen reconstructions6 to work out, did not at first comprehend Mr. Brownell’s shrill7 cry of: ‘You’re smoking! You’re smoking, sir!’ but he removed his pipe, and answered, placably enough: ‘The Army Class is allowed to smoke, sir.’
Mr. Brownell replied: ‘Preposterous9!’
Pot, seeing that this new person was uninformed, suggested that he should refer to the Head.
‘You may be sure I shall — sure I shall, sir! Then we shall see!’
Mr. Brownell and his umbrella scudded10 off, and Pot returned to his match-plannings. Anon, he observed, much as the Almighty11 might observe black-beetles, two small figures coming over the Pebble-ridge a few hundred yards to his right. They were a Major and his Minor13, the latter a new boy and, as such, entitled to his brother’s countenance14 for exactly three days — after which he would fend15 for himself. Pot waited till they were well out on the great stretch of mother-o’pearl sands; then caused his ground-ash to describe a magnificent whirl of command in the air.
‘Come on,’ said the Major. ‘Run!’
‘What for?’ said the Minor, who had noticed nothing.
‘‘Cause we’re wanted. Leg it!’
‘Oh, I can do that,’ the Minor replied and, at the end of the sprint16, fetched up a couple of yards ahead of his brother, and much less winded.
‘Your Minor?’ said Pot, looking over them, seawards.
‘Yes, Mullins,’ the Major replied.
‘All right. Cut along!’ They cut on the word.
‘Hi! Fludd Major! Come back!’
Back fled the elder.
‘Your wind’s bad. Too fat. You grunt17 like a pig. ‘Mustn’t do it! Understand? Go away!’
‘What was all that for?’ the Minor asked on the Major’s return.
‘To see if we could run, you fool!’
‘Well, I ran faster than you, anyhow,’ was the scandalous retort.
‘Look here, Har–Minor, if you go on talking like this, you’ll get yourself kicked all round Coll. An’ you mustn’t stand like you did when a Prefect’s talkin’ to you.’
The Minor’s eyes opened with awe18. ‘I thought it was only one of the masters,’ said he.
‘Masters! It was Mullins–Head o’ Games. You are a putrid19 young ass8!’
By what seemed pure chance, Mr. Brownell ran into the School Chaplain, the Reverend John Gillett, beating up against the soft September rain that no native ever troubled to wear a coat for.
‘I was trying to catch you after lunch,’ the latter began. ‘I wanted to show you our objects of local interest.’
‘Thank you! I’ve seen all I want,’ Mr. Brownell answered., Gillett, is there anything about me which suggests the Congenital Dupe?’
‘It’s early to say, yet,’ the Chaplain answered. ‘Who’ve you been meeting?’
‘A youth called Mullets, I believe.’ And, indeed, there was Potiphar, ground-ash, pipe, and all, quarter-decking serenely20 below the Pebbleridge.
‘Oh! I see. Old Pot — our Head of Games.’
‘He was smoking. He’s smoking now! Before those two little boys, too!’ Mr. Brownell panted. ‘He had the audacity21 to tell me that —’
‘Yes,’ the Reverend John cut in. ‘The Army Class is allowed to smoke — not in their studies, of course, but within limits, out of doors. You see, we have to compete against the Crammers’ establishments, where smoking’s usual.’
This was true! Of the only school in England was this the cold truth, and for the reason given, in that unprogressive age.
‘Good Heavens!’ said Mr. Brownell to the gulls22 and the gray sea. ‘And I was never warned!’
‘The Head is a little forgetful. I ought to have — But it’s all right,’ the Chaplain added soothingly23. ‘Pot won’t-er-give you away.’
Mr. Brownell, who knew what smoking led to, testified out of his twelve years’ experience of what he called the Animal Boy. He left little unexplored or unexplained.
‘There may be something in what you say,’ the Reverend John assented24. ‘But as a matter of fact, their actual smoking doesn’t amount to much. They talk a great deal about their brands of tobacco. Practically, it makes them rather keen on putting down smoking among the juniors — as an encroachment25 on their privilege, you see. They lick ’em twice as hard for it as we’d dare to.’
‘Lick!’ Mr. Brownell cried. ‘One expels! One expels! I know the end of these practices.’ He told his companion, in detail, with anecdotes27 and inferences, a great deal more about the Animal Boy.
‘Ah!’ said the Reverend John to himself. ‘You’ll leave at the end of the term; but you’ll have a deuce of a time first.’ Aloud: ‘We-ell, I suppose no one can be sure of any school’s tendency at any given moment, but, personally, I should incline to believe that we’re reasonably free from the — er — monastic microbes of — er — older institutions.’
‘But a school’s a school. You can’t get out of that! It’s preposterous! You must admit that,’ Mr. Brownell insisted.
They were within hail of Pot by now, and the Reverend John asked him how Affairs of State stood.
‘All right, thank you, sir. How are you, sir?’
‘Loungin’ round and sufferin’, my son. What about the dates of the Exeter and Tiverton matches?’
‘As late in the term as we can get ’em, don’t you think, sir?’
‘Quite! Specially28 Blundell’s. They’re our dearest foe,’ he explained to the frozen Mr. Brownell. ‘Aren’t we rather light in the scrum just now, Mullins?’
‘‘Fraid so, sir: but Packman’s playin’ forward this term.’
‘At last!’ cried the Reverend John. (Packman was Pot’s second-incommand, who considered himself a heaven-born half-back, but Pot had been working on him diplomatically. ‘He’ll be a pillar, at any rate. Lend me one of your fuzees, please. I’ve only got matches.’
Mr. Brownell was unused to this sort of talk. ‘A bad beginning to a bad business,’ he muttered as they returned to College.
Pot finished out his meditations29; from time to time rubbing up the gloss30 on his new seven-and-sixpenny silver-mounted, rather hot, myall-wood pipe, with its very thin crust in the bowl.
As the Studies brought back brackets and pictures for their walls, so did they bring odds32 and ends of speech — theatre, opera, and music-hall gags — from the great holiday world; some of which stuck for a term, and others were discarded. Number Five was unpacking33, when Dick Four (King’s House) of the red nose and dramatic instincts, who with Pussy34 and Tertius inhabited the study below, loafed up and asked them ‘how their symptoms seemed to segashuate.’ They said nothing at the time, for they knew Dick had a giddy uncle who took him to the Pavilion and the Cri, and all would be explained later. But, before they met again, Beetle12 came across two fags at war in a box-room, one of whom cried to the other ‘Turn me loose, or I’ll knock the natal35 stuffin’ out of you.’ Beetle demanded why he, being offal, presumed to use this strange speech. The fag said it came out of a new book about rabbits and foxes and turtles and niggers, which was in his locker36. (Uncle Remus was a popular holiday gift-book in Shotover’s year: when Cetewayo lived in the Melbury Road, Arabi Pasha in Egypt, and Spofforth on the Oval.) Beetle had it out and read for some time, standing3 by the window, ere he carried it off to Number Five and began at once to give a wonderful story of a Tar38 Baby. Stalky tore it from him because he sputtered39 incoherently; McTurk, for the same cause, wrenching40 it from Stalky. There was no prep that night. The book was amazing, and full of quotations41 that one could hurl42 like javelins43. When they came down to prayers, Stalky, to show he was abreast44 of the latest movement, pounded on the door of Dick Four’s study shouting a couplet that pleased him:
‘Ti-yi! Tungalee!
I eat um pea! I pick um pea!’
Upon which Dick Four, hornpiping and squinting45, and not at all unlike a bull-frog, came out and answered from the bottom of his belly46, whence he could produce incredible noises
‘Ingle-go-jang, my joy, my joy!
Ingle-go-jang, my joy!
I’m right at home, my joy, my joy!—’
The chants seemed to answer the ends of their being created for the moment. They all sang them the whole way up the corridor, and, after prayers, bore the burdens dispersedly to their several dormitories, where they found many who knew the book of the words, but who, boylike, had waited for a lead ere giving tongue. In a short time the College was as severely47 infected with Uncle Remus as it had been with Pinafore and Patience. King realised it specially because he was running Macrea’s House in addition to his own and, Dick Four said, was telling his new charges what he thought of his ‘esteemed colleague’s’ methods of House-control.
The Reverend John was talking to the Head in the tatter’s study, perhaps a fortnight later.
‘If you’d only wired me,’ he said. ‘I could have dug up something that might have tided us over. This man’s dangerous.’
‘Mea culpa!’ the Head replied. ‘I had so much on hand. Our Governing Council alone — But what do We make of him?’
‘Trust Youth! We call him “Mister.”
‘“Mister Brownell”?’
‘Just “Mister.” It took Us three days to plumb48 his soul.’
‘And he doesn’t approve of Our institutions? You say he is On the Track — eh? He suspects the worst?’
The School Chaplain nodded.
‘We-ell. I should say that that was the one tendency we had not developed. Setting aside we haven’t even a curtain in a dormitory, let alone a lock to any form-room door — there has to be tradition in these things.’
‘So I believe. So, indeed, one knows. And —‘tisn’t as if I ever preached on personal purity either.’
The Head laughed. ‘No, or you’d join Brownell at term-end. By the way, what’s this new line of Patristic discourse49 you’re giving us in church? I found myself listening to some of it last Sunday.’
‘Oh! My early Christianity sermons? I bought a dozen ready made in Town just before I came down. Some one who knows his Gibbon must have done ’em. Aren’t they good?’ The Reverend John, who was no hand at written work, beamed self-approvingly. There was a knock and Pot entered.
The weather had defeated him, at last. All footer-grounds, he reported, were unplayable, and must be rested. His idea, to keep things going, was Big and Little Side Paper-chases thrice a week. For the juniors, a shortish course on the Burrows50, which he intended to oversee51 personally the first few times, while Packman lunged Big Side across the inland and upland ploughs, for proper sweats. There was some question of bounds that he asked authority to vary; and, would the Head please say which afternoons would interfere52 least with the Army Class, Extra Tuition.
As to bounds, the Head left those, as usual, entirely53 to Pot. The Reverend John volunteered to shift one of his extra-Tu classes from four to five p.m. till after prayers — nine to ten. The whole question was settled in five minutes.
‘We hate paper-chases, don’t we, Pot?’ the Headmaster asked as the Head of Games rose.
‘Yes, sir, but it keeps ’em in training. Good night, sir.’
‘To go back —’ drawled the Head when the door was well shut. ‘No-o. I do not think so! . . . Ye-es! He’ll leave at the end of the term . . . A-aah! How does it go? “Don’t ‘spute wid de squinch-owl31. Jam de shovel54 in de fier.” Have you come across that extraordinary book, by the way?’
‘Oh, yes. We’ve got it badly too. It has some sort of elemental appeal, I suppose.’
Here Mr. King came in with a neat little scheme for the reorganisation of certain details in Macrea’s House, where he had detected reprehensible55 laxities. The Head sighed. The Reverend John only heard the beginnings of it. Then he slid out softly. He remembered he had not written to Macrea for quite a long time.
The first Big Side Paper-chase, in blinding wet, was as vile26 as even the groaning56 and bemired Beetle had prophesied57. But Dick Four had managed to run his own line when it skirted Bideford, and turned up at the Lavatories58 half an hour late cherishing a movable tumour59 beneath his sweater.
‘Ingle-go-jang!’ he chanted, and slipped out a warm but coy land-tortoise.
‘My Sacred Hat!’ cried Stalky. ‘Brer Terrapin60! Where you catchee? What you makee-do aveck?’
This was Stalky’s notion of how they talked in Uncle Remus; and he spake no other tongue for weeks.
‘I don’t know yet; but I had to get him. ‘Man with a barrow full of ’em in Bridge Street. ‘Gave me my choice for a bob. Leave him alone, you owl! He won’t swim where you’ve been washing your filthy61 self! “I’m right at home, my joy, my joy.”’ Dick’s nose shone like Bardolph’s as he bubbled in the bath.
Just before tea-time, he,’ Pussy,’ and Tertius broke in upon Number Five, processionally, singing:
‘Ingle-go-jang, my joy, my joy!
Ingle-go-jang, my joy!
I’m right at home, my joy, my joy!
Ingle-go-jang, my joy.’
Brer Terrapin, painted or and sable62 — King’s House-colours — swung by a neatly63 contrived64 belly-band from the end of a broken jumping-pole. They thought rather well of taking him in to tea. They called at one or two studies on the way, and were warmly welcomed; but when they reached the still shut doors of the dining-hall (Richards, ex-Petty Officer, R.N., was always unpunctual — but they needn’t have called him ‘Stinking Jim ‘) the whole school shouted approval. After the meal, Brer Terrapin was borne the round of the form-rooms from Number One to Number Twelve, in an unbroken roar of homage65.
‘To-morrow,’ Dick Four announced, ‘we’ll sacrifice to him. Fags in blazin’ paper-baskets!’ and with thundering ‘Ingle-go jangs’ the Idol66 retired67 to its shrine68.
It had been a satisfactory performance. Little Hartopp, surprised labelling ‘rocks’ in Number Twelve, which held the Natural History Museum, had laughed consumedly; and the Reverend John, just before prep, complimented Dick that he had not a single dissenter69 to his following. In this respect the affair was an advance on Byzantium and Alexandria which, of course, were torn by rival sects71 led by militant72 Bishops73 or zealous75 heathen. Vide, (Beetle,) Hypatia, and (if Dick Four ever listened, instead of privily76 swotting up his Euclid, in Church) the Reverend John’s own sermons. Mr. King, who had heard the noise but had not appeared, made no comment till dinner, when he told the Common Room ceiling that he entertained the lowest opinion of Uncle Remus’s buffoonery, but opined that it might interest certain types of intellect. Little Hartopp, School Librarian, who had, by special request, laid in an extra copy of the book, differed acridly77. He had, he said, heard or overheard every salient line of Uncle Remus quoted, appositely too, by boys whom he would not have credited with intellectual interests. Mr. King repeated that he was wearied by the senseless and childish repetitions of immature78 minds. He recalled the Patience epidemic79. Mr. Prout did not care for Uncle Remus — the dialect put him off — but he thought the Houses were getting a bit out of hand. There was nothing one could lay hold of, of course —‘As yet,’ Mr. Brownell interjected darkly. ‘But this larking81 about in form-rooms,’ he added, had potentialities which, if he knew anything of the Animal Boy, would develop — or had developed.’
‘I shouldn’t wonder,’ said the Reverend John. ‘This is the first time to my knowledge that Stalky has ever played second-fiddle to any one. Brer Terrapin was entirely Dick Four’s notion. By the way, he was painted your House-colours, King.’
‘Was he?’ said King artlessly. ‘I have always held that our Dickson Quartus had the rudiments82 of imagination. We will look into it — look into it.’
‘In our loathsome83 calling, more things are done by judicious84 letting alone than by any other,’ the Reverend John grunted85.
‘I can’t subscribe86 to that,’ said Mr. Prout. ‘You haven’t a House,’ and for once Mr. King backed Prout.
‘Thank Heaven I haven’t! Or I should be like you two. Leave ’em alone! Leave ’em alone! Haven’t you ever seen puppies fighting over a slipper87 for hours?’
‘Yes, but Gillett admits that Dickson Quartus was the only begetter88 of this manifestation89. I wasn’t aware that the — er — Testacean had been tricked out in my colours,’ said King.
And at that very hour, Number Five Study —‘prep’ thrown to the winds — were toiling91 inspiredly at a Tar Baby made up of Beetle’s sweater, and half-a-dozen lavatory-towels; a condemned92 cretonne curtain and, ditto, baize table-cloth for ‘natal stuffin’’; an ancient, but air-tight puntabout-ball for the head; all three play-box ropes for bindings; and most of Richards’ weekly blacking-allowance for Prout’s House’s boots, to give tone to the whole.
‘Gummy!’ said Beetle when their curtain-pole had been taken down and Tar Baby hitched93 to the end of it by a loop in its voluptuous94 back. ‘It looks pretty average indecent, somehow.’
‘You can use it this way, too,’ Turkey demonstrated, handling the curtain-pole like a flail95 ‘Now, shove it in the fireplace to dry an’ we’ll wash up.’
‘But — but,’ said Stalky, fascinated by the unspeakable front and behind of the black and bulging96 horror. ‘How come he lookee so hellish?’
‘Dead easy! If you do anything with your whole heart, Ruskin says, you always pull off something dam’-fine. Brer Terrapin’s only a natural animal; but Tar Baby’s Art,’ McTurk explained.
‘I see! “If you’re anxious for to shine in the high aesthetic97 line.” Well, Tar Baby’s the filthiest98 thing I’ve ever seen in my life,’ Stalky concluded. ‘King’ll be rabid.’
The United Idolaters set forth37, side by side, at five o’clock next afternoon; Brer Terrapin, wide awake, and swimming hard into nothing; Tar Baby lurching from side to side with a lascivious99 abandon that made Foxy, the School Sergeant100, taking defaulters’ drill in the Corridor, squawk like an outraged101 hen. And when they ceremoniously saluted102 each other, like aristocratic heads on revolutionary pikes, it beat the previous day’s performance out of sight and mind. The very fags, offered up, till the bottoms of the paper-baskets carried away, as heave-offerings before them, fell over each other for the honour; and House by House, when the news spread, dropped its doings, and followed the Mysteries — not without song . . .
Some say it was a fag of Prout’s who appealed for rescue from Brer Terrapin to Tar Baby; others, that the introits to the respective creeds103 (‘Ingle-go-jang,’-‘Ti-yi-Tungalee!’) carried in themselves the seeds of dissent70. At any rate, the cleavage developed as swiftly as in a new religion, and by tea-time, when they were fairly hoarse104, the rolling world was rent to the death between Ingles versus105 Tungles, and Brer Terrapin had swept out Number Eleven form-room to the War-cry: ‘Here I come a-bulgin’ and a-bilin’.’ Prep stopped further developments, but they agreed that, as a recreation for wet autumn evenings, the jape was unequalled, and called for its repetition on Saturday.
That was a brilliant evening, too. Both sides went into prayers practically re-dressing themselves. There was a smell of singed106 fag down the lines and a watery107 eye or so; but nothing to which the most fastidious could have objected. The Reverend John hinted something about roof-lifting noises.
‘Oh, no, Padre, Sahib. We were only billin’ an’ cooin’ a bit,’ Stalky explained. ‘We haven’t really begun. There’s goin’ to be a tug-o’-war next Saturday with Miss Meadow’s bed-cord —’
‘“Which in dem days would ha’ hilt a mule,”’ the Reverend John quoted. ‘Well, I’ve got to be impartial108. I wish you both good luck.’
The week, with its three paper-chases, passed uneventfully, but for a certain amount of raiding and reprisals109 on new lines that might have warned them they were playing with fire. The Juniors had learned to use the sacred war-chants as signals of distress110; oppressed Ingles squealing111 for aid against oppressing Tungles, and vice112 versa; so that one never knew when a peaceful form-room would flare113 up in song and slaughter114. But not a soul dreamed, for a moment, that that Saturday’s jape would develop into — what it did! They were rigidly115 punctilious116 about the ritual; exquisitely117 careful as to the weights on Miss Meadow’s bed-cord, kindly118 lent by Richards, who said he knew nothing about mules119, but guaranteed it would hold a barge’s crew; and if Dick Four chose to caparison himself as Archimandrite of Joppa, black as burned cork120 could make him, why, Stalky, in a nightgown kilted up beneath his sweater, was equally the Pope Symmachus, just converted from heathendom but given to alarming relapses.
It began after tea — say 6.50 p.m. It got into its stride by 7.30 when Turkey, with pillows bound round the ends of forms, invented the Royal Battering–Ram Corps121. It grew and — it grew till a quarter to nine when the Prefects, most of whom had fought on one side or the other, thought it time to stop and went in with ground-ashes and the bare hand for ten minutes, . . .
Honours for the action were not awarded by the Head till Monday morning when he dealt out one dozen lickings to selected seniors, eight ‘millies’ (one thousand), fourteen ‘usuals’ (five hundred lines), minor impositions past count, and a stoppage of pocket-money on a scale and for a length of time unprecedented122 in modern history.
He said the College was within an ace90 of being burned to the ground when the gas jet in Number Eleven form-room — where they tried to burn Tar Baby, fallen for the moment into the hands of the enemy — was wrenched123 off, and the lit gas spouted124 all over the ceiling till some one plugged the pipe with dormitory soap. He said that nothing save his consideration for their future careers kept him from expelling the wanton ruffians who had noosed125 all the desks in Number Twelve and swept them up in one crackling mound126, barring a couple that had pitch-poled through the window. This, again, had been no man’s design but the inspiration of necessity when Tar Baby’s bodyguard127, surrounded but defiant128, was only rescued at the last minute by Turkey’s immortal129 flank-attack with the battering-rams that carried away the door of Number Nine. He said that the same remarks applied130 to the fireplace and mantelpiece in Number Seven which everybody had seen fall out of the wall of their own motion after Brer Terrapin had hitched Miss Meadow’s bed-cord to the bars of the grate.
He said much more, too; but as King pointed131 out in Common Room that evening, his canings were inept132, he had not confiscated133 the Idols134 and, above all, had not castigated135, as King would have castigated, the disgusting childishness of all concerned.
‘Well,’ said Little Hartopp. ‘I saw the Prefects choking them off as we came into prayers. You’ve reason to reckon that in the scale of suffering.’
‘And more than half the damage was done under your banner, King,’ the Reverend John added.
‘That doesn’t affect my judgment136; though, as a matter of fact, I believe Brer Terrapin triumphed over Tar Baby all along the line. Didn’t he, I rout80?’
‘It didn t seem to me a fitting time to ask. The Tar Babies were handicapped, of course, by not being able to — ah — tackle a live animal.’
‘I confess,’ Mr. Brownell volunteered, ‘it was the studious perversity137 of certain aspects of the orgy which impressed me. And yet, what can one exp —’
‘How do you mean?’ King demanded. ‘Dickson Quartus may be eccentric, but —’
‘I was alluding138 to the vile and calculated indecency of that black doll.’
Mr. Brownell had passed Tar Baby going down to battle, all round and ripe, before Turkey had begun to use it as Bishop74 Odo’s holy-water sprinkler.
‘It is possible you didn’t —’
‘I never noticed anything,’ said Prout. ‘If there had been, I should have been the first —’
Here Little Hartopp sniggered, which did not cool the air.
‘Peradventure,’ King began with due intake139 of the breath. ‘Peradventure even I might have taken cognizance of the matter both for my own House’s sake and for my colleague’s . . . No! Folly140 I concede. Utter childishness and complete absence of discipline in all quarters, as the natural corollary to dabbling141 in so-called transatlantic humour, I frankly142 admit. But that there was anything esoterically obscene in the outbreak I absolutely deny.’
‘They’ve been fighting for weeks over those things,’ said Mr. Prout. ‘‘Silly, of course, but I don’t see how it can be dangerous.’
‘Quite true. Any House-master of experience knows that, Brownell,’ the Reverend John put in reprovingly.
‘Given a normal basis of tradition and conduct — certainly,’ Mr. Brownell answered. ‘But with such amazing traditions as exist here, no man with any experience of the Animal Boy can draw your deceptive143 inferences. That’s all I mean.
Once again, and not for the first time, but with greater heat he testified what smoking led to — what, indeed, he was morally certain existed in full blast under their noses . . .
Gloves were off in three minutes. Pessimists144, no more than poets, love each other and, even when they work together, it is one thing to pessimise congenially with an ancient and tried associate who is also a butt145, and another to be pessimised over by an inexperienced junior, even though the latter’s college career may have included more exhibitions — nay146, even pot-huntings — than one’s own. The Reverend John did his best to pour water on the flames. Little Hartopp, perceiving that it was pure oil, threw in canfuls of his own, from the wings. In the end, words passed which would have made the Common Room uninhabitable for the future, but that Macrea had written (the Reverend John had seen the letter) saying that his knee was fairly re-knit and he was prepared to take on again at half-term. This happened to be the only date since the Creation beyond which Mr. Brownell’s self-respect would not permit him to stay one hour. It solved the situation, amid puffings and blowings and bitter epigrams, and a most distinguished147 stateliness of bearing all round, till Mr. Brownell’s departure.
‘My dear fellow!’ said the Reverend John to Macrea, on the first night of the latter’s return. ‘I do hope there was nothing in my letters to you — you asked me to keep you posted — that gave you any idea King wasn’t doing his best with your House according to his lights?’
‘Not in the least,’ said Macrea. ‘I’ve the greatest respect for King, but after all, one’s House is one’s House. One can’t stand it being tinkered with by well-meaning outsiders.’
To Mr. Brownell on Bideford station-platform, the Reverend John’s last words were:
‘Well, well. You mustn’t judge us too harshly. I dare say there’s a great deal in what you say. Oh, Yes! King’s conduct was inexcusable, absolutely inexcusable! About the smoking? Lamentable148, but we must all bow down, more or less, in the House of Rimmon. We have to compete with the Crammers’ Shops.’
To the Head, in the silence of his study, next day: ‘He didn’t seem to me the kind of animal who’d keep to advantage in our atmosphere. Luckily he lost his temper (King and he are own brothers) and he couldn’t withdraw his resignation.’
‘Excellent. After all, it’s only a few pounds to make up. I’ll slip it in under our recent — er — barrack damages. And what do We think of it all, Gillett?’
‘We do not think at all — any of us,’ said the Reverend John. ‘Youth is its own prophylactic149, thank Heaven.’
And the Head, not usually devout150, echoed, ‘Thank Heaven!’
‘It was worth it,’ Dick Four pronounced on review of the profit-and-loss account with Number Five in his study.
‘Heap-plenty-bong-assez,’ Stalky assented.
‘But why didn’t King ra’ar up an’ cuss Tar Baby?’ Beetle asked.
‘You preter-pluperfect, fat-ended fool!’ Stalky began —‘Keep your hair on! We all know the Idolaters wasn’t our Uncle Stalky’s idea. But why didn’t King —’
‘Because Dick took care to paint Brer Terrapin King’s House-colours. You can always conciliate King by soothin’ his putrid esprit-demaisong. Ain’t that true, Dick?’
Dick Four, with the smile of modest worth unmasked, said it was so.
‘An’ now,’ Turkey yawned. ‘King an’ Macrea’ll jaw151 for the rest of the term how he ran his house when Macrea was tryin’ to marry fat widows in Switzerland. Mountaineerin’! ‘Bet Macrea never went near a mountain.’
‘‘One good job, though. I go back to Macrea for Maths. He does know something,’ said Stalky.
‘Why? Didn’t “Mister” know anythin’?’ Beetle asked.
‘‘Bout as much as you,’ was Stalky’s reply.
‘I don’t go about pretending to. What was he like?’
‘“Mister”? Oh, rather like King–King and water.’
Only water was not precisely152 the fluid that Stalky thought fit to mention.
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reign
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| n.统治时期，统治，支配，盛行；v.占优势 | |
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scholastic
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| adj.学校的，学院的，学术上的 | |
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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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peculiarity
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| n.独特性，特色；特殊的东西；怪癖 | |
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5
conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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6
reconstructions
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| 重建( reconstruction的名词复数 )； 再现； 重建物； 复原物 | |
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7
shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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8
ass
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| n.驴；傻瓜，蠢笨的人 | |
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9
preposterous
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| adj.荒谬的，可笑的 | |
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10
scudded
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| v.（尤指船、舰或云彩）笔直、高速而平稳地移动( scud的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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11
almighty
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| adj.全能的，万能的；很大的，很强的 | |
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12
beetle
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| n.甲虫，近视眼的人 | |
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13
minor
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| adj.较小(少)的，较次要的；n.辅修学科；vi.辅修 | |
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14
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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15
fend
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| v.照料（自己），（自己）谋生，挡开，避开 | |
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16
sprint
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| n.短距离赛跑；vi. 奋力而跑，冲刺；vt.全速跑过 | |
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17
grunt
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| v.嘟哝；作呼噜声；n.呼噜声，嘟哝 | |
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18
awe
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| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
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19
putrid
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| adj.腐臭的；有毒的；已腐烂的；卑劣的 | |
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20
serenely
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| adv.安详地，宁静地，平静地 | |
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21
audacity
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| n.大胆，卤莽，无礼 | |
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22
gulls
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| n.鸥( gull的名词复数 )v.欺骗某人( gull的第三人称单数 ) | |
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23
soothingly
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| adv.抚慰地，安慰地；镇痛地 | |
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24
assented
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| 同意，赞成( assent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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25
encroachment
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| n.侵入，蚕食 | |
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26
vile
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| adj.卑鄙的，可耻的，邪恶的；坏透的 | |
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27
anecdotes
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| n.掌故，趣闻，轶事( anecdote的名词复数 ) | |
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28
specially
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| adv.特定地；特殊地；明确地 | |
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29
meditations
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| 默想( meditation的名词复数 )； 默念； 沉思； 冥想 | |
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30
gloss
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| n.光泽，光滑；虚饰；注释；vt.加光泽于；掩饰 | |
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31
owl
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| n.猫头鹰，枭 | |
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32
odds
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| n.让步，机率，可能性，比率；胜败优劣之别 | |
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33
unpacking
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| n.取出货物，拆包[箱]v.从（包裹等）中取出（所装的东西），打开行李取出( unpack的现在分词 )；拆包；解除…的负担；吐露（心事等） | |
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34
pussy
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| n.(儿语)小猫，猫咪 | |
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35
natal
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| adj.出生的，先天的 | |
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36
locker
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| n.更衣箱，储物柜，冷藏室，上锁的人 | |
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37
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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38
tar
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| n.柏油，焦油；vt.涂或浇柏油/焦油于 | |
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39
sputtered
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| v.唾沫飞溅( sputter的过去式和过去分词 )；发劈啪声；喷出；飞溅出 | |
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40
wrenching
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| n.修截苗根，苗木铲根（铲根时苗木不起土或部分起土）v.（猛力地）扭( wrench的现在分词 )；扭伤；使感到痛苦；使悲痛 | |
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41
quotations
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| n.引用( quotation的名词复数 )；[商业]行情（报告）；（货物或股票的）市价；时价 | |
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42
hurl
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| vt.猛投，力掷，声叫骂 | |
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43
javelins
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| n.标枪( javelin的名词复数 ) | |
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44
abreast
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| adv.并排地；跟上(时代)的步伐，与…并进地 | |
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45
squinting
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| 斜视( squint的现在分词 )； 眯着眼睛； 瞟； 从小孔或缝隙里看 | |
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46
belly
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| n.肚子，腹部；(像肚子一样)鼓起的部分，膛 | |
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47
severely
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| adv.严格地；严厉地；非常恶劣地 | |
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48
plumb
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| adv.精确地，完全地；v.了解意义，测水深 | |
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49
discourse
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| n.论文，演说；谈话；话语；vi.讲述，著述 | |
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50
burrows
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| n.地洞( burrow的名词复数 )v.挖掘（洞穴），挖洞( burrow的第三人称单数 )；翻寻 | |
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51
oversee
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| vt.监督，管理 | |
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52
interfere
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| v.(in)干涉，干预；(with)妨碍，打扰 | |
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53
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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54
shovel
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| n.铁锨，铲子，一铲之量；v.铲，铲出 | |
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55
reprehensible
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| adj.该受责备的 | |
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56
groaning
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| adj. 呜咽的, 呻吟的 动词groan的现在分词形式 | |
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57
prophesied
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| v.预告，预言( prophesy的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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58
lavatories
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| n.厕所( lavatory的名词复数 )；抽水马桶；公共厕所（或卫生间、洗手间、盥洗室）；浴室水池 | |
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59
tumour
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| n.(tumor)(肿)瘤，肿块 | |
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60
terrapin
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| n.泥龟；鳖 | |
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61
filthy
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|
| adj.卑劣的；恶劣的，肮脏的 | |
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62
sable
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| n.黑貂；adj.黑色的 | |
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63
neatly
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| adv.整洁地，干净地，灵巧地，熟练地 | |
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64
contrived
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| adj.不自然的，做作的；虚构的 | |
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65
homage
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| n.尊敬，敬意，崇敬 | |
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66
idol
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| n.偶像，红人，宠儿 | |
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67
retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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68
shrine
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| n.圣地，神龛，庙；v.将...置于神龛内，把...奉为神圣 | |
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69
dissenter
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| n.反对者 | |
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70
dissent
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| n./v.不同意，持异议 | |
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71
sects
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| n.宗派，教派( sect的名词复数 ) | |
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72
militant
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| adj.激进的，好斗的；n.激进分子，斗士 | |
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73
bishops
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| （基督教某些教派管辖大教区的）主教( bishop的名词复数 )； （国际象棋的）象 | |
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74
bishop
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| n.主教，（国际象棋）象 | |
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75
zealous
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| adj.狂热的，热心的 | |
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76
privily
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| adv.暗中，秘密地 | |
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77
acridly
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|
| adj.辛辣的；刺鼻的；（性格、态度、言词等）刻薄的；尖刻的 | |
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78
immature
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| adj.未成熟的，发育未全的，未充分发展的 | |
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79
epidemic
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| n.流行病；盛行；adj.流行性的，流传极广的 | |
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80
rout
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| n.溃退，溃败；v.击溃，打垮 | |
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81
larking
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| v.百灵科鸟（尤指云雀）( lark的现在分词 )；一大早就起床；鸡鸣即起；（因太费力而不想干时说）算了 | |
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82
rudiments
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| n.基础知识，入门 | |
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83
loathsome
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|
| adj.讨厌的，令人厌恶的 | |
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84
judicious
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| adj.明智的，明断的，能作出明智决定的 | |
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85
grunted
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| （猪等）作呼噜声( grunt的过去式和过去分词 )； （指人）发出类似的哼声； 咕哝着说 | |
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86
subscribe
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| vi.(to)订阅，订购；同意；vt.捐助，赞助 | |
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87
slipper
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| n.拖鞋 | |
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88
begetter
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| n.生产者，父 | |
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89
manifestation
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| n.表现形式；表明；现象 | |
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90
ace
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| n.A牌；发球得分；佼佼者；adj.杰出的 | |
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91
toiling
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| 长时间或辛苦地工作( toil的现在分词 )； 艰难缓慢地移动，跋涉 | |
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92
condemned
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| adj. 被责难的, 被宣告有罪的 动词condemn的过去式和过去分词 | |
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93
hitched
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| （免费）搭乘他人之车( hitch的过去式和过去分词 )； 搭便车； 攀上； 跃上 | |
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94
voluptuous
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| adj.肉欲的，骄奢淫逸的 | |
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95
flail
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| v.用连枷打；击打；n.连枷（脱粒用的工具） | |
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96
bulging
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| 膨胀； 凸出（部）； 打气； 折皱 | |
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97
aesthetic
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| adj.美学的，审美的，有美感 | |
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98
filthiest
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| filthy（肮脏的，污秽的）的最高级形式 | |
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99
lascivious
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| adj.淫荡的，好色的 | |
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100
sergeant
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| n.警官，中士 | |
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101
outraged
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| a.震惊的，义愤填膺的 | |
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102
saluted
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| v.欢迎，致敬( salute的过去式和过去分词 )；赞扬，赞颂 | |
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103
creeds
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| （尤指宗教）信条，教条( creed的名词复数 ) | |
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104
hoarse
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| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
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105
versus
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| prep.以…为对手，对；与…相比之下 | |
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106
singed
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| v.浅表烧焦( singe的过去式和过去分词 )；（毛发）燎，烧焦尖端[边儿] | |
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107
watery
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| adj.有水的，水汪汪的；湿的，湿润的 | |
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108
impartial
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| adj.(in,to)公正的，无偏见的 | |
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109
reprisals
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| n.报复（行为）( reprisal的名词复数 ) | |
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110
distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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111
squealing
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| v.长声尖叫，用长而尖锐的声音说( squeal的现在分词 ) | |
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112
vice
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| n.坏事；恶习；[pl.]台钳，老虎钳；adj.副的 | |
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113
flare
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| v.闪耀，闪烁；n.潮红；突发 | |
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114
slaughter
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| n.屠杀，屠宰；vt.屠杀，宰杀 | |
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115
rigidly
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| adv.刻板地，僵化地 | |
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116
punctilious
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| adj.谨慎的，谨小慎微的 | |
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117
exquisitely
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| adv.精致地；强烈地；剧烈地；异常地 | |
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118
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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119
mules
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| 骡( mule的名词复数 )； 拖鞋； 顽固的人； 越境运毒者 | |
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120
cork
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| n.软木，软木塞 | |
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121
corps
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| n.(通信等兵种的)部队；(同类作的)一组 | |
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122
unprecedented
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| adj.无前例的，新奇的 | |
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123
wrenched
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| v.（猛力地）扭( wrench的过去式和过去分词 )；扭伤；使感到痛苦；使悲痛 | |
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124
spouted
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| adj.装有嘴的v.（指液体）喷出( spout的过去式和过去分词 )；滔滔不绝地讲；喋喋不休地说；喷水 | |
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125
noosed
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| v.绞索，套索( noose的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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126
mound
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| n.土墩，堤，小山；v.筑堤，用土堆防卫 | |
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127
bodyguard
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| n.护卫，保镖 | |
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128
defiant
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| adj.无礼的，挑战的 | |
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129
immortal
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| adj.不朽的；永生的，不死的；神的 | |
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applied
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| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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inept
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| adj.不恰当的，荒谬的，拙劣的 | |
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confiscated
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| 没收，充公( confiscate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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idols
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| 偶像( idol的名词复数 )； 受崇拜的人或物； 受到热爱和崇拜的人或物； 神像 | |
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castigated
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| v.严厉责骂、批评或惩罚（某人）( castigate的过去式 ) | |
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judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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perversity
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| n.任性；刚愎自用 | |
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alluding
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| 提及，暗指( allude的现在分词 ) | |
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intake
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| n.吸入，纳入；进气口，入口 | |
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folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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dabbling
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| v.涉猎( dabble的现在分词 )；涉足；浅尝；少量投资 | |
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frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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deceptive
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| adj.骗人的，造成假象的，靠不住的 | |
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pessimists
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| n.悲观主义者( pessimist的名词复数 ) | |
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butt
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| n.笑柄；烟蒂；枪托；臀部；v.用头撞或顶 | |
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nay
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| adv.不；n.反对票，投反对票者 | |
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distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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lamentable
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| adj.令人惋惜的，悔恨的 | |
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prophylactic
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| adj.预防疾病的；n.预防疾病 | |
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devout
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| adj.虔诚的，虔敬的，衷心的 (n.devoutness) | |
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jaw
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| n.颚，颌，说教，流言蜚语；v.喋喋不休，教训 | |
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precisely
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| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
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