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A BAND OF 
 BROTHERS 
 
BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 BY 
 
 CHARLES TURLEY 
 
 THOMAS NELSON AND SONS, Ltd. 
 LONDON, EDINBURGH, AND NEW YORK 
 
% 
 
 PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN AT 
 THE PRESS OF THE PUBLISHERS. 
 
M A ' hi 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 -M- 
 
 BOOK I 
 
 THE FOOL OF THE FAMILY 
 
 L The Rumbolds 9 
 
 n. At Granby ....... 23 
 
 HL The First Dimension .... 35 
 
 IV. A Clinging Rose . . . . . 49 
 
 V. Close Quarters ...... 64 
 
 VI. A Work of Art 81 
 
 VII. Max the Inscrutable .... 96 
 
 VIII. A Host in Himself in 
 
 IX. After the Party 133 
 
 X. BiNGOiSM 148 
 
 XL Voices 158 
 
 XII. A Challenge 171 
 
 XIII. The Scribe .187 
 
 XIV. Book and Brush ..... 203 
 
 4 Ois^f^wr^w X. 
 
VI 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 BOOK n 
 
 THE RUMBOLD TRADITION 
 
 I. Spiders and a Fly 
 11. Max versus Palmer 
 
 III. Frost and Flood 
 
 IV. Lions' Dens 
 V. Wind . . . 
 
 219 
 232 
 247 
 263 
 279 
 
 BOOK III 
 
 THE TURN OF THE TIDE 
 
 I. The Race . . . . . . . 299 
 
 II. Drift 315 
 
 III. The Prophet 332 
 
 IV. An Exacting Friend .... 348 
 V. Change and Decay 365 
 
 VI. Max Regnant 383 
 
 BOOK IV 
 THE NEW HEADMASTER 
 
 I. Marking Time . 
 II. Taking Charge . 
 
 III. The Recovery . 
 
 IV. Fathers and Sons 
 V. Fortune's Wheel 
 
 395 
 409 
 
 424 
 
 439 
 451 
 
BOOK I 
 THE FOOL OF THE FAMILY 
 
A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 -♦♦- 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 THE RUMBOLDS 
 
 TOE RUMBOLD was born about two hundred 
 ^ years after Granby was founded, and the only 
 grievance that his family had against this famous 
 school was that it did not owe its foundation to a 
 Rumbold. King was the name of the man who did 
 found Granbv, and if the Rumbolds could have traced 
 descent from him they might have been more inclined 
 to reverence his ' pious memory/ 
 
 As it was, they were disposed to think that Mr. 
 King — whose portrait hangs in the great Granby 
 library — ^was a man who had obtained an honour 
 which ought in justice to have belonged to them. 
 
 Even Joe's father, who liked to spend idle moments 
 in deploring the disrespectful way in which school- 
 boys spoke of their elders and betters, set his sons a 
 very bad example by referring to Mr. King as ' that 
 silly-looking old buffer who had the luck to stumble 
 on a good thing, but had not sense enough to ap- 
 preciate it.' Mr. Rumbold never gave reasons, he 
 67 9 
 
lo A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 just made statements. No one, however, who was 
 not stone-deaf and ale<j endowed with a marvellous 
 digestion, could stay for two hours at Maiden Croft 
 without discovering that the Rumbolds were Gran- 
 beians to the core. Their jokes had the Granbeian 
 flavour, and they frequently ate a pudding called 
 Granby Stodge, which was offered to guests as a sort 
 of test of their worth. 
 
 There was a Rumbold, a bachelor some thirty years 
 old and known in the family as Cousin William, who 
 dared to scoff at Granby, and was neither saturated 
 in its traditions, nor prepared to admit that it was 
 the finest school in the world. In a less squeamish 
 age his relations would have thought him a heretic 
 fit for the stake, but living at a time when burning was 
 out of fashion they pitied him for his lack of intelli- 
 gence, and despised him for his lack of loyalty. All 
 of which was, perhaps, harmless enough in its way, 
 although it may also have been a little trying for those 
 unfortunate men who happened to have been educated 
 at other schools. 
 
 Joe's great-grandfather had been at Granby, his 
 grandfather was there (but as regards this Rumbold 
 there was a vulgar report that he had been prouder 
 of Granby than Granby had been of him), and his 
 father had spent six years at the school, and did not 
 depart from it until he had reached the mature age 
 of twenty. Even then he was disinclined to leave, 
 but as he was already engaged to be married the 
 authorities of Granby reluctantly wished him farewell. 
 
 But it is the generation of Rumbold to which Joe 
 belonged which absorbed concentrated Granby essence 
 into its life. 
 
 It seems almost unnecessary to recount facts which 
 all good Granbeians know, yet in case there are people 
 so imperfectly informed that they are ignorant of 
 
THE RUMBOLDS II 
 
 the history of the Rumbolds, it may be as well to state 
 that Joe was the youngest of five brothers. That in 
 itself is a fact which anyone might be excused for not 
 knowing, but it is very doubtful if all of his brothers 
 would have admitted as much. For it is impossible 
 to think of Granby without remembering how much 
 of its athletic glory is due to the Rumbolds. 
 
 His brothers had no Christian names, or, if they 
 had, no one used them. At their home, at Maiden 
 Croft, they were called Flip, Jumpy, Pads, and Bingo. 
 To the outside world, by which is meant that world 
 which takes more interest in games than in things 
 hke politics and the navy, they were known as M. R., 
 T. J., N. C, and P. S. (which last initials ought cer- 
 tainly to have been reserved for Joe, since he was 
 born five years after Bingo). At Maiden Croft there 
 was a delightful etiquette to be observed about these 
 forms of address. It would have been quite correct 
 to have asked a gardener if he bad seen Mr. Flip or 
 Mr. Bingo, but when it came to Jumpy or Pads the 
 rule was to speak of them as Mr. T. J. or Mr. N. C. 
 
 As for Joe, he got a bad start in the Rumbold race, 
 and was treated, if not preferentially, at any rate 
 differently. He was not bom when Flip began to 
 startle Granby by his athletic skill, while Jumpy 
 celebrated the day of Joe's birth (and deprived him, 
 so it is said, of the glory of it) by making 137 for his 
 private school. 
 
 It was bad luck for Joe that he was born in June, 
 because in the summer his father spent most of his 
 spare time in reading and talking about cricket, and 
 consequently had no leisure to fit his youngest son 
 with nice, masculine Christian names, which, if they 
 were seldom used, would nevertheless have been 
 something to fall back upon. There was an agree- 
 ment between Mr. and Mrs. Rumbold that he should 
 
12 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 choose the names of the boys, while she was to choose 
 those of the girls. A one-sided arrangement, as it 
 turned out, for there were not any girls. 
 
 Indeed Joe began as a disappointment because he 
 was not feminine, but although he failed to fulfil ex- 
 pectations, it still seems hard to have called him 
 Jocelyn, and to have left him at that. He has, how- 
 ever, some reason to be thankful, for in a moment of 
 ecstatic enthusiasm Mr. Rumbold suggested that his 
 names should be William Gilbert Grace, and he was 
 only saved from this fate by a strong protest from his 
 mother. 
 
 ' Supposing he should not turn out to be a cricketer,' 
 Mrs. Rumbold said. 
 
 * A Rumbold can't help being a cricketer ; cricket's 
 bred in their bones,' was the retort. 
 
 ' It seems to me almost as bad as calling him by 
 the name of a battle,' Mrs. Rumbold remarked. 
 
 ' We seem to have used all the best names ; call 
 him what you like. Blenheim Rumbold sounds 
 all right.' 
 
 Yet in the end it was Mr. Rumbold who fixed upon 
 Jocelyn, and demanded credit for his choice. 
 
 At first he was merely called Babs, but when his 
 mother began to call him Jocelyn the spirit of his 
 brothers revolted, and in solemn conclave they de- 
 cided that his name should be Joe. This was the 
 choice of Flip and Pads, Bingo voting fpr Quintus, 
 and Jumpy (who never had a vestige of imagination) 
 suggesting Squawks or Squawky. 
 
 As usual, Joe's mother yielded, and no one ever 
 gave way with a better grace. Yet in one respect 
 she managed to break away from the Rumbold 
 traditions, for Joe was not sent to the private school 
 where his brothers in turn had hit and kicked balls 
 with extraordinary accuracy, but to a school jon the 
 
THE RUMBOLDS 13 
 
 East Coast. Known as Joe, and at a school which he 
 was frequently led to suppose was an inferior place, 
 it is true that all of his brothers, except Pads, looked 
 upon him as something very like a fi-eak. 
 
 When, however, it came to the supreme question 
 whether he should be sent to Granby or not, his 
 mother's suggestion that he should go to a school near 
 the sea was of no avail. Joe had been entered for 
 Granby when he was seventeen days old, and three 
 days before he had been put down for the M.C.C 
 And there again he created a Rumbold record, because 
 all of his brothers had been entered for Granby before 
 they were put down for the M.C.C. 
 
 It is not too much to say that Mrs. Rumbold was 
 quietly jealous of Granby, and wanted to have one son 
 who did not allow his school to enter quite so intru- 
 sively into his home-life. She adored all of her sons, 
 and, as far as she could, she took what Mr. Rumbold 
 admitted to be an ' intelligent interest ' in their athletic 
 successes. But those who saw it will never forget the 
 look of astonishment which hovered over the Rumbold 
 dinner-table when Mrs. Rumbold forgot that E. de 
 M. Parfitt, who played full-back for the English Rugby 
 Fifteen and cricket for Derbyshire, was an old Gran- 
 beian. Not having been born a Rumbold, much, of 
 course, could be forgiven her, but the pity was that she 
 knew that it was forgiven. ' Never mind, mater, 
 you will know better another time,' dropped not 
 seldom in her ears by Flip or Bingo, left little room 
 for doubt. 
 
 She wanted some of her sons to be soldiers or sailors, 
 but professions which did not interfere with games 
 were more to the taste of Joe's father and brothers. 
 Flip had been for several years in the Rumbold office 
 in the City when Joe was old enough to go to Granby ; 
 Jumpy was on the Stock Exchange when he was not 
 
14 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 on tour with some cricket or football team ; Pads 
 had spent two years at Cambridge ; and Bingo had 
 just left Granby, and was going up to the college at 
 which Pads was, and FHp and Jumpy had been. 
 
 Between them Joe's brothers had already collected 
 eight ' blues/ and Bingo, captain of the last Granby 
 Cricket Eleven, holder of the school record for the 
 mile, and ' one of the cleverest three-quarter backs 
 in England ' (the Sportsman), was expected to bring 
 the total up to double figures. 
 
 The Rumbolds lived about thirty miles from London 
 and about fifteen miles from Granby, and as the day 
 approached on which Joe was to burst upon the school 
 as the last of the Rumbolds, he was intensely conscious 
 of his inability to live up to the family reputation. 
 In his heart of hearts he knew that games were in- 
 cidents, and not matters of the supremest importance 
 in his life, but he was wise enough not to make such 
 an awful admission. 
 
 On the very day, however, before his holidays 
 ended, Maiden Croft was to play a cricket match 
 against an eleven of Old Granbeians. So, whenever 
 Bingo had happened to have a spare quarter of an 
 hour, Joe had found himself in a net, and his brother 
 bowling at a pace which was more alarming than 
 pleasant. Bingo's excuse was that unless he bowled 
 fast he could not bowl straight, but the fact remains 
 that Joe did not want him to bowl at all. 
 
 Pads had been playing for the county during most 
 of the holidays, but when he was at home he coached 
 Joe in a manner more useful, because less terrifying, 
 than Bingo's. When Pads talked about Granby and 
 cricket, Joe felt spurred to keep up the Rumbold 
 record. But when Bingo groused at him and said that 
 he was * no more use than a blind baboon, and never 
 would be,' Joe wanted to know where Bingo had seen 
 
THE RUMBOLDS 15 
 
 a blind baboon, and what reason he had got for 
 putting on such a lot of ' side ' — questions to which 
 Bingo could not listen and be peaceable. 
 
 ****** 
 
 Breakfast at Maiden Croft was usually more of a 
 fast and silent feed than a sociable meal. It began 
 with porridge, which the Rumbolds did not sit ddwn 
 to eat, and then everyone seized a newspaper or a 
 portion of one (Joe's portion was generally the adver- 
 tisement sheets of the Daily Telegraph), and settled 
 solidly to rapid eating. 
 
 As a rule Mrs. Rumbold did not attend this orgy, 
 but on the morning on which the Old Granbeians 
 were coming down she appeared, and was received 
 with a chorus of ironical congratulations. 
 
 ' The one day I haven't got to rush up to town your 
 mother comes to breakfast,' Mr. Rumbold said, with 
 one eye on the Times. 
 
 * You have only been up to town twice in the last 
 fortnight,' Joe remarked, with that invincible desire 
 for truth which so often creates awkward situations. 
 
 ' Go on with your breakfast, and don't talk so much/ 
 his father told him. 
 
 At that moment Bingo discovered that Joe had 
 left half of his porridge, and began to insist that it 
 should be finished. 
 
 ' Let him eat what he likes ; he is going away to- 
 morrow,' Mrs. Rumbold said. 
 
 ' " Mummy's darling ! " ' Bingo exclaimed, and 
 helped himself liberally to kidneys and bacon, 
 
 ■ If Joe doesn't like porridge, he isn't a Rumbold,' 
 the head of the family announced. 
 
 ' He wants to put on flesh,' Flip declared, and looked 
 at his young brother with critical eyes. 
 
 ' He's got no more muscle than a haddock,' Bingo 
 asserted. 
 
i6 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 All of the famous Rumbold brothers had assembled 
 for the cricket match, and their mother *s unexpected 
 appearance had upset the silent decorum of break- 
 fast. 
 
 ' If he makes a run to-day, it will be an accident/ 
 Bingo continued, and then, turning on Joe, he added, 
 * but don't you go and drop a dozen catches/ 
 
 * Let him alone ; I've seen you drop absolute 
 '* sitters,"' Pads told Bingo, and attention was sud- 
 denly switched ofi Joe and turned on to his mother. 
 
 Unaccustomed to the seriousness with which the 
 first meal was attacked, Mrs. Rumbold seemed to 
 think that it was rather an opportunity to take gentle 
 exercise than an occasion to eat furiously. To sit 
 at the table was to bind herself at least to the pretence 
 of eating, for a lack of appetite was a thing not to be 
 tolerated in her family. 
 
 * I say, mother, couldn't you sit down for a bit ? ' 
 Flip asked. 
 
 'Three laps to the mile, and you've been round the 
 room three times,' Bingo added. 
 
 * If one of you would get your mother something 
 to eat instead of talking so much, we might have a 
 little quiet,' came from behind the Financial Supple- 
 ment of the Times, 
 
 Whereupon Flip moved his chair a little, but did 
 not rise from it. Jumpy pretended to be deaf. Bingo 
 got up and sat down again immediately, while Pads 
 and Joe met at the heavily laden sideboard for a con- 
 sultation. 
 
 A telegram from the man who was expected to keep 
 wicket for Maiden Croft, to say that he had got in- 
 fluenza, diverted attention from Mrs. Rumbold's 
 breakfast. 
 
 * Who ever heard of anyone having *' flu " in Sep- 
 tember ! ' Flip exclaimed indignantly. 
 
THE RUMBOLDS 17 
 
 • ' That fellow Osborne always was a rotter/ Bingo 
 'declared, and stared hard at Joe. 
 
 Why he should be considered responsible for Mr. 
 Osborne or his ' flu ' Joe could not imagine, but 
 Bingo's stare was a challenge which had got to be 
 accepted. Joe spent many weary hours in strug- 
 gling to keep up his end against Bingo. 
 
 ' He was your tutor and not mine, but I'll bet he 
 has got " flu," ' he said emphatically. 
 
 * While you are. wasting time in quarrelling about 
 Osborne, we ought to be thinking about a wicket- 
 keeper,' Mr. Rumbold protested. 
 
 * Joe can keep wicket ; he's done it for two years,* 
 Pads said, and Joe gave him a terrific kick under 
 the table. But the kick arrived too late. 
 
 * Of course, that's the very thing. This match was 
 really arranged for Joe, just to let the O. G.'s know 
 that we have as good fish in the sea as ever came out 
 of it,' Mr. Rumbold said. 
 
 ' Shove the squish over here, Lilley,' Bingo said 
 promptly to Joe. 
 
 ' Why do you call him " Lilley " ? ' Mrs. Rumbold 
 asked. 
 
 ' Lilley's the best wicket-keeper in England ; it's 
 Bingo's idea of humour,' Pads explained. 
 
 * How stupid of me ! ' Mrs. Rumbold said. 
 
 * P believe mother will forget her own name next,' 
 Jumpy remarked. • . 
 
 There was something greatly to admire about 
 Jumpy, for he concentrated the whole of his attention 
 upon the thing which he was doing, and never spoke 
 at meals unless it was absolutely necessary. Now 
 that he had finished eating, he made his one remark 
 and went out of the room. 
 
 ' Honestly,' Joe began, * I am a very bad wicket- 
 keep indeed. I've never had any practice against 
 
l8 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 fast bowling. I have a sore thumb, and IVe only 
 stumped one man in two years, and he said he wasn't 
 out-/ 
 
 For ordinary people this might have been enough, 
 but it made no impression upon the Rumbolds. 
 
 * Let me look at your thumb,' Flip commanded. 
 
 * A thumb,' Joe said, as he walked slowly round the 
 table, ' is not the sort of thing which looks sore like 
 a finger. A wasp stung me on it.' 
 
 * That's not so bad as a bee,' Bingo remarked at 
 once. 
 
 ' Mine was a particularly ferocious wasp,' Joe found 
 time to say, before Flip, after a very casual inspection, 
 decided that there was nothing the matter with the 
 thumb. 
 
 •'It ought to have been properly attended to. WJiy 
 didn't you mention it ? ' asked Mrs. Rumbold. 
 
 * Because I was helping myself to plums off one of 
 the trees which have been put out of bounds,' Joe 
 replied promptly. 
 
 ' Then it served you right,' his father said, and 
 Joe looked at Bingo to see if he was, by any chance, 
 blushing. But the whole of Bingo's attention had 
 suddenly been bestowed upon the Sportsman. 
 
 Soon afterwards Joe was fully girt and standing, 
 gloved and padded, while Flip bowled and Bingo 
 pretended to bat. For half an hour the ball occa- 
 sionally found a resting-place in his hands, but more 
 frequently came into contact with more tender por- 
 tions of his body. His incompetence as a wicket- 
 keeper was not, however, so obvious to Flip as it was 
 to him, and at the end of the practice he was informed 
 that he had got to keep wicket in the match. And 
 this honour so gravely depressed his spirits, that the 
 first Old Granbeian whom he met asked if he was 
 looking miserable because he was going to Granby 
 
THE RUMBOLDS 19 
 
 on the following day — to which question Joe answered 
 truthfully, if surprisingly, that he had forgotten all 
 about Granby. 
 
 Of the match that had been arranged for Joe there 
 is little to say, except that it was an arrangement 
 which from his point of view was not altogether a 
 success. He did stump one man, but it was a slow 
 performance, and the batsman seemed more anxious 
 to be stumped than Joe was to stump him. And he 
 half caught another man— so his father said, and he 
 was one of the umpires— who had captained England. 
 That possibly ought to have encouraged him, but 
 unfortunately the ball got stuck in his pads instead 
 of in his hands, and he was in the ignominious position 
 of having to stand stock-still, while Bingo deprived 
 him of the ball, and of the glory of catching an ex- 
 captain of England. 
 
 But Joe had a fleeting moment of triumph, for he 
 made one run, while Bingo was bowled first ball. 
 He did not rub his one run into Bingo, but at any rate 
 Bingo had nothing to rub into him. Flip, Jumpy, 
 and Pads all filled their own lines in the Maiden 
 Croft scoring-book, and bulged over into those of less 
 successful batsmen. 
 
 Up to this point Joe felt that he had got through 
 the day without completely disgracing himself, and 
 had he foreseen what was going to happen at the end 
 of it, he would almost certainly have retired to bed 
 hugging a fictitious internal pain. 
 
 A supper followed the match, and a speech by the 
 ex-captain of England followed the supper. 
 
 ' Mr. and Mrs. Rumbold and gentlemen,' he began, 
 ' although I speak this evening for a defeated eleven, 
 I want to say what a pleasure it has been to field 
 against such splendid cricketers— batsmen of whom 
 every Granby boy throughout the length and breadth 
 
20 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 of our Empire are proud.' (Applause, in which Joe 
 joined until he caught Flip's eye, and remembered 
 that he also was a Rumbold.) 'It is unnecessary,' 
 the ex-captain continued, * for me to congratulate 
 our host and hostess upon the skill of their sons, 
 whose names are household words wherever cricket 
 is played ' — (* Hear, hear,' and a murmur from Joe 
 of, * Do stow it ') — ' but I may be permitted to thank 
 them for the hospitality they have extended to us 
 to-day, and wish them many years of health, happi- 
 ness, and prosperity.' (Loud cheers, during which, 
 if the ex-captain had been merciful, he would have 
 stopped.) ' There is only one toast,' he went on 
 glibly, ' which I venture to propose this evening, 
 and that is the health of the youngest cricketer who 
 took part in the match. To-morrow he goes to take 
 the place which is waiting for him at Granby, and I 
 am sure that I am only expressing the opinion of 
 everyone present, when I say that all of us wish him 
 the best of luck and plenty of caps, and feel confident 
 that he will prove worthy of the honoured name which 
 is his.' (Prolonged cheers, but Joe was too confused 
 to pay any attention to them.) * I ask you to drink 
 the health of Jocelyn Rumbold, commonly known 
 as Joe.' (Laughter, though what on earth there was 
 to laugh at Joe could not imagine.) 
 
 Directly afterwards there was a dreadful noise, 
 and everyone stood up ; for Joe, in the confusion of 
 the moment, stood up with the rest until someone 
 pushed him back into his seat. Around him was a 
 sea of faces, and above the noise he heard Bingo bel- 
 lowing, ' Good old Lilley ! ' and Cousin William, who 
 always turned up at functions, saying, ' Joe, my boy, 
 accept my sincerest sympathy.' He looked round to 
 try to catch a sight of his mother, but she was shut out 
 from view by the figures of gesticulating men ; and 
 
THE RUMBOLDS 21 
 
 then shouts of * Speech, speech ! ' began to ring round 
 the room. 
 
 * Must I really ? ' he asked the man who had insisted 
 on being stumped, and who was standing by his chair. 
 
 ' It's a bit rough, but just say you'll do your best, 
 and that kind of thing,' he put his head down to Joe's 
 and answered. 
 
 So Joe got up, and everyone else sat down. To 
 sit down while they had been standing up was bad 
 enough, but to stand up while they all sat down was 
 infinitely more terrifying. 
 
 ' Hem,' he said, and followed it with a quick 
 ' Ahem.' (A laugh — Bingo's.) Then he remembered 
 how the ex-captain of England had begun, and made 
 a plunge. 
 
 ' Mr. and Mrs. Rumbold and gentlemen,' was his 
 opening, and as it was greeted with roars of laughter, 
 he waited for the laughter to cease, and then repeated 
 it. Again it was received with merriment, and Cousin 
 William informed him across the table that he was a 
 humorist. 
 
 For the time being Joe was not in a position to 
 bandy words with William, but fieetingly he thought 
 of giving up his speech and telling his cousin that he 
 had once heard him say, ' No one who did not expect 
 to find figs on a gooseberry-bush would look for 
 humour in a Rumbold.' The desire, however, to 
 retaliate upon William passed, but the laughter had 
 again subsided, and he was still without anything to 
 say. 
 
 * Just thank them,' his friend whispered encourag- 
 ingly, and Joe thanked him afterwards. 
 
 * It's most awfully decent of all of you,' he began 
 once more — * really most awfully decent. And I hope 
 that I shan't make a most awful ass of myself at 
 Granby. Anyhpw, I'll do my best.' 
 
22 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 He sat down so abruptly that he only just got a 
 contact with his chair, and while he wiped away a 
 bead of perspiration which was trickling down his 
 nose, the Old Granbeians began to stampede round 
 the room and to say 'good-bye. Several of them 
 shook Joe by the hand or hit him oii the back, and he 
 felt that at any cost he must get into the Granby 
 Eleven. 
 
 But when they had driven off singing a Granby song 
 at the top of their voices, Joe found himself standing 
 alone in the hall, and Cousin William looking sadly 
 at him. . 
 
 ' Here's a sovereign for you, Joe, to spend in making 
 yourself ill,' he said. * I think you must be a throw- 
 back, for you are too modest to be a proper Rumbold.' 
 
 What this meant Joe did not trouble to inquire, 
 but he felt convinced that Cousin William was not 
 half so foolish as he was generally considered to be. 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 AT GRANBY 
 
 'The carriage is ordered for three o'clock, and your 
 iuggage must be ready by half-past one/ Mr. Rumbold 
 said, when Joe came down to breakfast on the following 
 morning. 
 
 ' Are you coming with me ? ' Joe asked. 
 
 ' No ; your mother wishes to go with you,' was the 
 answer ; and Joe attacked his porridge. 
 
 Had he been given his choice, he would rather have 
 travelled in a train than in the family chariot, but for 
 ten years or more the Rumbolds had driven to Granby 
 at the beginning of term, and in some vague way this 
 mode of arrival was supposed to bestow distinction 
 upon them. 
 
 ' I'll bowl if anyone wants to bat,' Jumpy said, and 
 having finished his breakfast he left the room. 
 
 * We might all go and have some practice,' Flip 
 remarked. 
 
 ' Joe wants it badly enough,' Bingo said. 
 
 ' Anyhow, I made one more than you did,' Joe 
 retorted. 
 
 ' What's your average for the year ? ' Bingo asked. 
 
 ' I don't play for my average ; I don't keep the 
 wretched thing,' Joe replied ; and Pads grunted so 
 loudly that Mr. Rumbold inquired if he was ever to 
 have any peace. 
 
 23 
 
24 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 After this warning Flip, Pads, and Bingo departed, 
 and left Joe sitting at one end of the table, while his 
 father sat at the other end and read the Times, Once 
 or twice Mr. Rumbold looked over the top of his 
 paper at Joe, and the latter suddenly realized that he 
 was in a dangerous position. There was, in fact, 
 nothing except the length of the table between him 
 and the ' jaw ' which his father delivered to him at 
 the end of each holidays, and which on this occasion 
 was likely to be especially forcible. Without any 
 wish to miss his ' jaw ' altogether, Joe was so content 
 to let it wait that he abandoned the idea of marmalade, 
 and fled from the room. 
 
 Presently he heard Bingo shouting for him, but he 
 did not answer. To practise cricket when there would 
 be no chance to play again for several months seemed 
 to be a September madness. Moreover, Mrs. Jennifer, 
 who had once been the Rumbold nurse but was by 
 this time a very dear old lady with a strong distaste 
 for any garment with a hole in it, was waiting for 
 him. 
 
 He found her sitting by the open window in her 
 room, and surrounded by the usual pile of clothes. 
 
 ' Your socks. Master Joe, are a disgrace ; it's my 
 firm belief that you tear holes in them on purpose,' 
 she said. 
 
 In answer Joe took his stand straight in front of 
 her, and looking like a spirit of incarnate mischief 
 made a grab at her gold-rimmed spectacles, which were 
 lying on the table by her side. Mrs. Jennifer grabbed 
 too, but Joe got them. 
 
 'I know youll break them one of these days. Do 
 take them off,' she pleaded. 
 
 ' Not until you talk sense,' Joe said. 
 
 * And how don't I talk sense, I'd like to know ? ' 
 
 ' You called me Master Joe.' 
 
AT GRANBY 25 
 
 * I know my place.' 
 
 . ' And the place for your gold-rimmers is on the tip 
 of my nose, and FU go to Granby wearing them.' 
 
 ' I tack on the " master " the day you go to Granby, 
 and not a day before. And once tacked on, it sticks.' 
 
 'Then you never shall tack it on.' 
 
 Mrs. Jennifer looked at him for quite half a minute, 
 and then both smiled and sighed. ix 
 
 'There's trouble in store for you, Joe; whoev^gr 
 gave you these notions I can't think,' she said. 
 
 ' What notions ? ' Joe asked, and put the spectacles 
 back on the table. 
 
 ' About not being called *' master." You'll be a 
 Radical one of these days if you aren't careful. And 
 whoever heard of a Rumbold being a Radical ? ' 
 
 ' It wouldn't be bad fun to be something different,' 
 Joe said. 
 
 ' It would be mighty unpleasant for you, you take 
 my word for it,' Mrs. Jennifer retorted. 
 
 For the next quarter of an hour Joe had to try on 
 various garments, and he was still in a semi-dressed 
 condition when his mother came into the room. 
 
 * The proofs of your photographs have come, Joe. 
 I think they are quite good,' she said, and handed one 
 photo to him and another to Mrs. Jennifer. 
 
 ' Am I really as ugly as that ? But I never pre- 
 tended to be beautiful,' Joe remarked, and promptly 
 put the photograph down. 
 
 * Ugly ! ' Mrs. Jennifer exclaimed ; * you have 
 your faults, a heap of them, but you aren't ugly, or 
 anything near it.' 
 
 ' Then why do you sigh as if you had a pain when 
 you look at me ? ' Joe asked. 
 
 Mrs. Jennifer and Joe's mother glanced at each 
 other for a moment, but neither of them answered his 
 question. 
 
26 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 * Anyhow, I hope you'll be happy/ Mrs. Jennifer 
 said, so solemnly that Joe beseeched her to cheer up. 
 
 ' Have you finished with him, Jenny ? ' Mrs. Rum- 
 bold asked. 
 
 * Yes ; but he'll be a vest short for a week,' was 
 the answer. 
 
 Joe went down the stairs with his mother, and to 
 his surprise she turned into a little room off the hall 
 which was familiarly known as the ' Pot-Room.' It 
 was a place which Joe avoided steadfastly, for in it 
 were all the cups, vases, bowls, medals, and other 
 trophies which at one time or another his brothers 
 had won for the house of Rumbold. 
 
 His sole contribution to this glittering collection 
 was a tiny cup which he had won in an egg-and-spoon 
 race— a contribution so ridiculous that it had only 
 gained a position in the room after strong protests 
 from Flip and Bingo. 
 
 Mrs. Rumbold looked for a moment at the crowded 
 tables, and then fixed her eyes upon the tiniest of all 
 the cups. 
 
 ' Some day, perhaps, you will have a table to your- 
 self,' she said. 
 
 ' I don't expect they have egg-and-spoon races at 
 Granby,' Joe replied. 
 
 ' Isn't there anything else vou might win a prize 
 for ? ' 
 
 Joe thought a minute, and then slowly shook his 
 head. 
 
 ' I wanted to say,' his mother continued, ' that 
 I shall not be very disappointed if you are not so 
 wonderfully successful at games. But you must try 
 your hardest so that your father may hot be vexed,' 
 
 ' Did you bring me in here to say that ? ' Joe 
 asked. 
 
 * It seemed to be the right place,' Mrs. Rumbold 
 
AT GRANBY 27 
 
 answered, and smiled. As a family the Rumbolds 
 were inclined to guffaw when they were amused, and 
 Mrs. Rumbold was the only one of them who really 
 knew the art of smiling. Together they wandered 
 back into the hall, and there Joe met his father. 
 
 ' Here is some money to begin with/ the latter 
 said, ' and don't be extravagant. I'm going up to 
 town in five minutes, so your mother will tell you 
 what we expect you to do. Never forget, Joe, that 
 you are a Rumbold.' 
 
 * I don't think I could if I tried,' Joe said. 
 
 * There is no necessity to try,' his father retorted 
 ^quickly, and then kissed him on the left eyebrow. 
 
 In a sense Joe's manner of departure discouraged 
 him, for he could remember that when Bingo had 
 started to Granby for the first time Mr. Rumbold had 
 been in the most cheerful spirits, and had prophesied 
 many additions to the ' Pot-Room.' Now the head 
 of the family went off to town without even troubling 
 to deliver the usual ' jaw,' and in something rather 
 like a bad temper. 
 
 * At any rate,' his mother said to him when the 
 chariot rolled into the road, ' you have passed into 
 a higher form than any Rumbold except William has 
 ever done.' 
 
 ' That doesn't count for anything with us,' Joe 
 returned, and as Mrs. Rumbold did not speak, he 
 added : ' Father never said a word when I brought 
 back a very fat Tennyson and a fairly fat Milton last 
 term.' 
 
 ' You mustn't be peevish, Joe.' 
 
 ' I don't feel peevish; I feel sort of lumpy inside,' 
 he replied. 
 
 ' Perhaps you ate too much Stodge for lunch,' 
 his mother suggested. 
 
 ' Not that kind of lumpiness, but a sort of feeling 
 
28 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 as if I am no good at anything, and never should be,* 
 he explained. 
 
 This was altogether a different complaint from 
 those which usually attacked her children, and Mrs. 
 Rumbold treated it with befitting seriousness. To 
 confess failure, or even to acknowledge the possibility 
 of it, was not part of the Rumbold creed ; and although 
 Mrs. Rumbold was secretly pleased that one of her 
 children should not be so inhumanly confident of 
 success, she set to work to dispel Joe's doubts and 
 fears. Very soon they were talking of Granby and 
 of Mr. Lomax, to whose house Joe was going. 
 
 All of his brothers had been at Oakshotte, over' 
 which house Mr. Lomax had ruled for fifteen years. 
 It was the aXhletic house of Granby, and Bingo had 
 assured Joe that ' Max is a thundering good sort if 
 you get the right side of him.' 
 
 How, then, to get on the right side of this poten- 
 tate was the problem which Joe frankly asked his 
 mother to solve. 
 
 Mrs. Rumbold, however, professed herself unable 
 to distinguish between the sides of Mr. Lomax. ' I 
 am sure that you will like Mrs. Lomax very much,' 
 she said ; and Joe at once suspected that she was not 
 very confident that he would like Mr. Lomax. 
 
 But whatever Joe's housemaster intended to be 
 in the future, there was no doubt that he was at first 
 almost boisterously cheerful. 
 
 ' Delighted to see you,' he said to Mrs. Rumbold ; 
 * most delighted to see you. Your habit of driving 
 over at the beginning of term is a good old custom 
 which I am glad you keep up.' 
 
 But although his words were addressed to Mrs. 
 Rumbold, his eyes were for her son, and very soon 
 he took Joe by the shoulder and inspected him 
 thoroughly. 
 
AT GRANBY 29 
 
 ' More like Pads than Bingo. Certainly more like 
 Pads. What do you think, Mrs. Rumbold ? ' 
 
 But what Mrs. Rumbold thought Mr. Lomax did 
 not stop to hear. 
 
 * You can rely upon me to look after him/ he con- 
 tinued. * I wish we had half a dozen more to follow 
 him.' 
 
 ' Unfortunately, Joe is the last,' Mrs. Rumbold 
 managed to say. 
 
 ' And I am sure the best. Ah ! here is my wife.' 
 
 Mrs. Lomax, graceful and quiet, greeted both 
 Mrs. Rumbold and Joe with a dignity which had been 
 conspicuously lacking in her husband. She looked 
 as if she never had cause for either haste or worry, 
 while Mr. Lomax seemed to Joe to be made of wire 
 and whipcord. 
 
 While the ladies were talking, Mr. Lomax darted 
 about the room, and only stopped either to interrupt 
 them or to ask Joe a question. These questions re- 
 peatedly took Joe unawares, for they often hit him 
 on the back of his neck, and when he turned round 
 to answer, quite a different question hit him on the 
 same place. In ten minutes Joe had been reduced to 
 a state of extreme physical and mental uneasiness. 
 He replied as well as he could to the bombardment, 
 but he was always two or three questions behind, 
 and in the middle of one of his belated answers Mr. 
 Lomax dived for the door and disappeared. 
 
 Never had Joe watched anyone's departure with 
 greater pleasure, and his first thought was that Bingo 
 must be a perfect lunatic to say that such a man could 
 be a good sort. 
 
 Immediately after Mr. Lomax had gone, several 
 people were shown into the room, and eventually 
 Joe discovered that they were Mr. and Mrs. Arkwright, 
 with a son who looked as if he would be glad to take 
 
30 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 refuge up the chimney ; Mr. Piper, whose son was so 
 immaculate that he might have stepped straight out 
 of a tailor's catalogue ; and a Miss Leening, who was 
 in charge of a nephew called Clive. 
 
 The chatter was fast and furious. Mr. Arkwright 
 kept on beginning remarks, which his wife interrupted. 
 Mr. Piper resolutely informed first Mrs. Lomax, then 
 Miss Leening, and lastly Joe's mother, that a so- 
 called * luncheon-train ' ought to be one on which 
 you could get a luncheon fit to eat ; while Miss Leening, 
 stirred into words by a stray wasp which was buzzing 
 round the room, became statistical, and told anyone 
 and everybody that she had been stung five times in 
 seven weeks, and that her gardener, who had been in 
 her service for twenty-two years, had destroyed 
 forty-seven wasps'-nests in thirty-three days. To 
 Joe this sounded more like a rule-of-three sum than 
 an interesting piece of information. 
 
 Doubtless Mrs. Lomax was accustomed to situa- 
 tions of the kind, for she controlled this one without 
 any appearance of effort. And when Mr. Lomax 
 darted back into the room, she saved him from 
 welcoming Mr. Piper as the father of Clive, and 
 protected Miss Leening from having to disclaim the 
 motherhood of Arkwright. 
 
 While conversation, in which Mr. Lomax's voice 
 was always audible, waxed so loud that everyone 
 seemed to Joe to be talking and no one to be listening, 
 another boy was shown into the room, and nobody 
 either heard him announced or saw him enter. Joe, 
 sitting alone and as far from the conversational zone 
 as possible, was the first to see him, and as soon as 
 he noticed that Joe's eyes were fixed upon him, he 
 solemnly shut one of his. Clearly he saw more fun 
 than awkwardness in the situation, and he did not 
 show the smallest inclination to hurry matters. 
 
AT GRANBY 31 
 
 Noiselessly he advanced towards Joe, and sat 
 down on the far side of a huge bowl of dahlias. 
 
 ' What a noise ! Rather like the monkey-house 
 at the Zoo. I expect they are all waiting to be fed/ 
 he remarked. 
 
 ' You can't feed at three o'clock in the afternoon/ 
 Joe told him. 
 
 ' Oh, can't I ? I'm so hungry I could eat pickled 
 pork/ he returned, and looked at his shoes, which 
 had been brown until someone had cleaned them with 
 a blacking-brush. 
 
 ' What's your name ? ' Joe asked him. 
 
 ' Ormsby. What's yours ? ' 
 
 ' Rumbold.' 
 
 Then he looked intently at Joe, and the latter, 
 being accustomed to the glory attached to his name, 
 guessed what he was thinking. 
 
 ' I'm right up against it at once,' Ormsby said. 
 
 * I'm the youngest, and no more use at games 
 than a sardine,' Joe remarked. 
 
 * You can't help being good. I'm pretty useful 
 at squalls.' 
 
 ' What are squalls ? ' Joe asked. 
 
 * They are a game of skill, rather like chess only 
 it's over quicker, and you don't get angry because you 
 are beaten. Have you ever met the Black Gambit ? ' 
 
 ' No ; but I've met a silly ass,' Joe said, so loudly 
 that Mr. Lomax's attention was turned from Miss 
 Leening, who was telling him exactly how a wasp's- 
 nest was constructed. Without apology Mr. Lomax 
 left her, and dashed across the room. 
 
 ' Where did you come from ? ' he asked Ormsby. 
 
 ' I came from London,' Ormsby answered as he 
 stood up. 
 
 ' I mean how did you get in here without anyone 
 Seeing you ? ' 
 
32 A BAMD OF BROTHERS 
 
 ' A man showed me in, and I didn't like to in- 
 terrupt. My name is Ormsby.' 
 
 ' You had better come and be introduced to Mrs. 
 Lomax. You have evidently introduced yourself 
 already to Rumbold. You live in the same room 
 with him. A good many boys would like to start 
 their Hves at Granby by living with a Rumbold. 
 Come on ! ' 
 
 Ormsby shot one comical glance at Joe, and found 
 him blushing furiously. Then, escorted by Mr. 
 Lomax, he invaded the more inhabited part of the 
 room ; but before five minutes had passed he had 
 again taken refuge behind the dahlias. 
 
 * If you don't belong to any of that crowd, we 
 might do a bolt,' he suggested. 
 
 * My mother is over there,' Joe said, and nodded 
 in the wrong direction. 
 
 ' Not the one who sits bolt upright and talks 
 about wasps ? ' he asked anxiously. 
 ' She's Miss Leening.' 
 
 * Then she's been named wrong. Is your mother 
 the one in grey ? ' 
 
 ' Yes,' Joe replied ; * but I don't see what difference 
 it makes to vou.' 
 
 ' It makes a lot, because you and I are in the 
 same room, and if we have got to live with photo- 
 graphs of each other's people, it is jolly important 
 what they look like. I give your mother full 
 marks.' 
 
 As an acknowledgment of this gift Joe merely 
 grunted, and Ormsby burst forth with apologies. 
 
 * Don't go and get sick with me at sight,' he 
 said. * I didn't mean any harm. My strong point 
 as a stable-companion, or whatever you call it, is that 
 I haven't got any people except my father, who is 
 an astronomer, and lives up in the clouds trying to 
 
AT GRANBY 33 
 
 pull comets' tails and things of that sort. He hasn't 
 been photographed for years/ 
 
 ' Hasn't he even been snapped ? ' Joe, who lived 
 in a clicking atmosphere, asked. 
 
 ' Once, when he was taking a header into the 
 Danube. But it is all arms and legs, and you can't 
 call it a photograph.' 
 
 How much to believe of this Joe did not know, 
 for although Ormsby looked serious enough, he spoke 
 mockingly. Joe, however, had to admit that his 
 face was in his favour. He had the kind of clear, 
 olive complexion which Mr. Rumbold would have 
 denounced as foreign, and his hair was as black as 
 ebony. Lurking round the corners of his mouth 
 was a constant expression of amusement, and Joe 
 was sure that all ladies would say that he had very 
 fine eyes. 
 
 •When Joe saw his mother into the chariot, she 
 said : ' I do hope you will like Ormsby ; you seemed 
 to be getting on very well with him, and he is certainly 
 a striking- looking boy.' 
 
 ' I dare say he isn't a bad sort, but he talked an 
 awful lot of twaddle. Thinks he's funny, I expect,' 
 Joe returned, and for a brief moment wished that he 
 was going to get into the chariot with his mother 
 and return to Maiden Croft. Mrs. Rumbold, with 
 her hands in his, knew what he was feeling, and knew, 
 too, that he would be sorry afterwards if he betrayed 
 himself. 
 
 * I think,' she said at random, * that Ormsby has 
 a most beautiful nose,' and no remark could have 
 drawn Joe's attention more rapidly from himself. 
 
 * Nose ! ' he exclaimed. * Whoever heard of any- 
 one having a beautiful nose ? You might as well 
 say I've got a ripping big toe.' 
 
 Mrs. Rumbold smiled at him, and then said : 
 
 2 
 
34 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 ' Please, Joe, be kind to that poor little boy. Ark- 
 wright. He has never been to school, and he col- 
 lects caterpillars when they are in season/ 
 
 ' What does he do when they aren't in season ? ' 
 Joe asked at once. 
 
 * I don't know, but you might find out and help 
 him. I do hope your vests are warm enough ; ' and 
 then Mrs. Rumbold wished him good-bye. 
 
 Joe stood in the street and waved until the chariot 
 disappeared round the corner, and as he walked back 
 to the house he was thinking of Arkwright, and not 
 of himself. But how he was to provide him with 
 occupation during the off-season for caterpillars was 
 more than he could imagine. 
 
 Wondering whether Ormsby was not the sort of 
 fellow who would enjoy looking after Arkwright, he 
 reached the top of the long study passage, and found 
 his talkative friend waiting for him. 
 
 * I say,' Ormsby began immediately, ' that child 
 Arkwright is blubbing his eyes out in our room. I 
 stowed him there for safety, but there will be a flood 
 in the place unless we go and stop him. As soon as 
 his people went, he gave a huge gulp and began to 
 cry buckets. It was just as if something had burst.' 
 
 ' Where are Piper and Give ? ' Joe asked. 
 
 ' Piper began to rot the infant, so I sent him flying. 
 Give was decent enough to walk off as if he was look- 
 ing at a show for which he ought to have paid, and 
 hadn't.' 
 
 ' Let us go and see what he wants,' Joe said. 
 
 * What we want is a mop and two eye-plugs,' Ormsby 
 replied. 
 
 ^ / 
 ) ( 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 THE FIRST DIMENSION 
 
 The light was fading when Orihsby and Joe went 
 into their room, and to the latter Arkwright looked 
 like a giant frog dressed up in an Eton suit. The 
 home-sick boy was clinging to a very moist handker- 
 chief, and sitting on a hard chair in the middle of the 
 room. 
 
 The chair was not his fault, because there was not 
 an easy one to sit upon, but he would have been less 
 conspicuous if he had placed it in a corner. As he 
 was he seemed to be an embodiment of woe. His 
 tears had ceased, but he Was in the heaving stage, 
 which meant either a fresh downpour or a complete 
 recovery. 
 
 Just how to help him did not occur to Joe. The 
 best plan, he thought, was not to take any notice of 
 him, but that could have been done more easily on 
 the outside than on the inside of the door. It was 
 not, in short, exactly what he had come to do. 
 
 Feeling abominably in the way, Joe walked to the 
 window and poked his head out as far as the bars 
 would allow him. The view was not one over which 
 he felt inclined to linger, for all he could see was a 
 small patch of garden and the part of the house in 
 which Mr. and Mrs. Lomax lived. But as there was 
 no room for anyone else in the window as long as he 
 
 36 
 
36 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 stayed in it, he hoped that Ormsby's lack of employ- 
 ment would drive him to offer consolation. He did 
 not know yet that Ormsby, even under the most de- 
 pressing circumstances, was always a trier. 
 
 A deadly silence, broken only by Arkwright's gulps, 
 pervaded the room for two or three minutes, and 
 then Ormsby said very solemnly : * I wish I could 
 cry.' 
 
 ' Why ? ' Arkwright asked plaintively. 
 
 * In the first place,' he answered, * because it is 
 something to do. Then, not being able to cry when 
 you want to is like having a sneeze on the tip of your 
 nose and not being able to get it out. Fourthly ' 
 
 ' You have missed out thirdly,* Arkwright inter- 
 rupted ; and as he was audibly getting better, Joe 
 turned round. 
 
 * You are coming on,' Ormsby continued. ' Thirdly, 
 if I went about mopping my eyes, Piper would think 
 I am a funk, and then we should have some sport.' 
 
 * Which is Piper ? ' Arkwright asked. 
 
 * He's the bantam-cock specimen who seemed to 
 think you were funny. That's Piper.' 
 
 * I didn't get the impression that he is a very nicb 
 boy,' Arkwright ventured to say. 
 
 * I should be quite sure about that, if I were you. 
 The thing to do with fellows like Piper is to take a 
 strong line ; if you don't make an impression on them, 
 they will soon make one on you.' 
 
 / I don't think I fully understand,' Arkwright said 
 very apologetically. 
 
 * If you don't kick them, they will kick you, as sure 
 as eight beans make eight.' 
 
 * My mother,' Arkwright returned, ' says that ajl 
 disputes ought to be settled by arbitration, for by 
 such means all blows and bloodshed would be avoided.* 
 
 For a moment Ormsby looked hard at the strange 
 
THE FIRST DIMENSIO!^ 37 
 
 specimen in front of him, and then he broke out into 
 a farrago of nonsense. * Don't you worry about 
 bloodshed or blubbing/ he began, * heaps of great men 
 have been blubbers. Napoleon cried like a baby 
 because he was beaten at Waterloo ; and Oliver 
 Cromwell always carried a towel-horse about with 
 him because he soaked so many handkerchiefs that 
 they drenched his clothes. And as for that old bird, 
 Diogenes, didn't you ever hear that when he was out 
 of his tub for a week-end Alexander the Great went 
 and blubbed it full to the spout ? ' 
 
 During this harangue Arkwright's eyes and mouth 
 opened wider and wider. 
 
 'I hope,' he said most politely, * you won't be vexed 
 with me if I hesitate to believe what you say. A 
 tub doesn't have a spout.' 
 
 ' My dear Mr. Arkwright,' Ormsby replied, ' I can 
 assure you that I don't mind how long you hesitate 
 if you will stop talking like a cross between a mouldy 
 copy-book and a first-class prig. And I speak, sir, 
 not only for myself, but also for Mr. Rumbold, who is 
 a member of a most distinguished family.' 
 
 * Oh, do stop jawing !' Joe told Ormsby; and 
 then, turning to Arkwright, he added : * Don't you 
 believe this fellow's rot.' 
 
 [.■ * Aren't you a member of a distinguished family ? ' 
 Arkwright asked Joe, and looked at him for the first 
 time. 
 
 But before Joe could reply to this question, Ormsby 
 had asked another. 
 
 ' Don't you read the Sportsman ? ' he inquired. 
 > Arkwright shook his head. Quite plainly he had 
 hever even heard of the Sportsman. 
 . I * Wliat papers do you have at your place ? ' Ormsby 
 continued. 
 "^ ' The Tim^s, but my mother doesn't care for me to 
 
38 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 see it. But I can read the Hibbert Journal, ana 
 Notes and Queries, and on Sundays Blackwood's Maga- 
 zine,' was the reply. 
 
 * And haven't you ever heard of the Rumbolds ? ' 
 Ormsby inquired eagerly. 
 
 ' I don't quite know ; that is, I am not altogether 
 sure. I mean, perhaps it would be better — —' 
 
 ' What's up ? Let s hear it,' Ormsby interrupted. 
 
 ' The fact is— and I hope you won't mind,* he began, 
 and looked at Joe — * but I think I have heard of one 
 Rumbold.' 
 
 ' Was he M. R., T. J., N. C, or P. S. ? ' Ormsby 
 asked immediately. 
 
 * I don't know his initials. Oh yes, I do ; he was 
 called Ephraim.' 
 
 Joe shook his head, but Ormsby was not content 
 to leave Ephraim Rumbold in peace. 
 
 ' Where did you bump up against him ? ' he asked. 
 
 ' He came to do something to our electric light, 
 and he stole a bicycle,' Arkwright replied in semi- 
 quavers, and looked very beseechingly at Joe. 
 
 But even if the latter had wished to disown this 
 degenerate possessor of his name, Ormsby's laughter 
 would have prevented him from being heard. 
 
 ' Mr. Arkwright,' Ormsby said at last, ' you are 
 the most priceless man I have ever met. I can now 
 meet Mr. Rumbold on equal terms, for I can use the 
 electric-lighter who bagged your bicycle as a set-off 
 against M. R., T. J., N. C, or P. S.' 
 
 ' It wasn't my bicycle. I am only allowed to ride 
 a tricycle,' Arkwright corrected. , 
 
 ' It doesn't matter a row of pins whose bicycle it 
 was, so long as the man's name was Rumbold.' 
 
 ' I do hope I have been telling the truth. His 
 name might have been Rumble, or ' 
 
 ' Don't you spoil a good story ; it'3 any odds his 
 
THE FIRST DIMENSION 39 
 
 name was Rumbold. And now, if you are ready to 
 get a move on, we might go and find out where you 
 hve.' 
 
 Arkwright got up and immediately followed Ormsby, 
 while Joe, feeling more than a little angry, was left 
 in sole possession of the room. 
 
 It was one thing, he thought, not to have heard 
 of his brothers, but it was quite another to have pro- 
 duced a Rumbold who stole bicycles. Besides, in 
 his desire to please Ormsby, this odd specimen had 
 said that he hoped he was telling the truth, while 
 any fellow with an atom of decency in him would have 
 hoped that he was telling lies. On the whole, Joe 
 decided that Arkwright and his caterpillars were no 
 concern of his. 
 
 So when Ormsby returned with a broad grin on 
 his face, Joe felt it his duty to put things clearly before 
 him. 
 
 * You,' he announced immediately, ' have stuffed 
 that baby up with so many lies that he didn't know 
 what he was saying. If he isn't careful, I shall have 
 to smack his head.' 
 
 ' Well, smack it gently,' Ormsby returned, with 
 exasperating cheerfulness. 
 
 ' It's a shame to get hold of such a fellow as that, 
 and stuff him full of yarns about Cromwell and Alex-^ 
 ander the Great/ 
 
 * We had to turn off the tear-tap,' Ormsby explained, 
 ' and if w^ had told him that he ought to be dragging 
 about a wooden horse at the end of a string, he would 
 have blubbed for hours. Now he's busy unpacking 
 sL box of books> and he means to find out if Diogenes 
 and old Alex lived at the same time. Anyhow, he'll 
 -forget to be home-sick for a few minutes. Unless 
 we teach him things quick, he will have his life rotted 
 otit of him.' 
 
40 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 To this Joe only answered with a grunt. 
 
 'Will you help, if I will? In a way, he seems 
 sort of stranded, and we seem to have found him,' 
 Ormsby said. 
 
 VYes, ril help ; but I should think you'd be able 
 to do the job by yourself ; you go at such a pace,' 
 Joe replied. 
 
 ' That's just it — I blunder on,' Ormsby said ; and 
 taking a book out of his pocket, he began to read it. 
 
 As Joe had neither a book to read nor anything 
 whatever to do, he watched Ormsby for a time, and 
 finally resolved to interrupt him. 
 
 * How shall we decorate our room ? ' he asked ; and 
 the book was shut with a bang, and pocketed. 
 
 * I have a scheme,' Ormsby said at once. * The 
 ordinary room either looks as if it belongs to an actor 
 with a taste for horse-racing, or it is full of photo- 
 graphs of fellows who have just brushed their hair 
 with a damp brush. I poked my head into several 
 rooms, and there isn't one of them which has a scheme.' 
 
 * I want something comfortable to sit down on, 
 and you can't sit on a scheme,' Joe replied emphat- 
 ically. 
 
 * Anyway, you are trying to sit on mine before you 
 have even heard of it. When you hear it, you are 
 simply cock-certain to like it.' 
 
 Joe assured him that he should do nothing of the 
 sort, for he had not had time to discover that the only 
 way to disarm Ormsby was to agree with him. 
 
 ' To begin with, our curtains must all match the 
 wall-paper,' he continued ; * and then we must belong 
 to a period. We can be Early French, or Mid-Viq- 
 torian, or Gr?eco-Roman, or what you like. It doesn't 
 matter a bit how uncomfortable you are, but you 
 mustn't put a Griaeco-Roman chair in a Catch-as-Catch- 
 Can room.' 
 
THE FIRST DIMENSION 4^ 
 
 ' '^ou Ve got a blooming bee in your bonnet I ' Joe 
 told him. 
 
 ' There's a chap called Sheraton, and another called 
 Chippendale ; I know about them from my father, 
 because when he is not looking for stars he's hunting 
 for furniture. I'd like to make old Sheraton sit in 
 our drawing-room for a month ; < I'll bet he would 
 have a backache.' 
 
 ' Do pull yourself together and talk sense for a 
 minute,' Joe said. 
 
 ' Well, then, what do you want ? ' 
 
 * Two comfortable chairs — deckers, with plenty 
 of cushions in them— a pair of tongs which don't 
 squeeze your fingers every time you use them, a< sauce- 
 pan, and a few pK)ts and pans, and things.' 
 
 ' This place isn't a scullery,' Ormsby said. 
 
 ' At any rate, half of it is mine,' Joe retorted. 
 
 'I'll toss you for the whole of it,' Ormsby replied 
 immediately. 
 
 For some reason or other Joe felt sure that he 
 should win if they tossed, so he pulled a penny out 
 of his pocket and put it on the table. 
 
 ' Tails,' Ormsby said, and continued : ' that's 
 all right ; now we can get on with my scheme.' 
 ' * Confound your scheme !' Joe said. 
 
 * My idea is to make this room unlike anyone else's. 
 I refuse to have any anxious-looking stags, or children 
 blowing bubbles, or ships in distress on our walls. 
 The thing to do is to make it a room. that nobody ever 
 wants to come into.' 
 
 '' ' We have got to live here,' Joe reminded him. 
 ^; * Not a bit of it ! We can rest just as well in some- 
 body else's room ; and when we are working, we shall 
 work all the harder for not being comfortable. We 
 shall be so jolly glad to finish and get away.' 
 ^ * As far as I can see, we might as well have no room 
 
41 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 at all/ said Joe, and began to wish that he had left 
 Ormsby to read in peace. 
 
 ' How about making it a museum for Rumbold 
 relics ? ' was the next suggestion, and it was too much 
 for Joe. 
 
 ' I am not a Rumbold relic, and I am no good at 
 anything ; so you had better shut up,' he said. 
 
 Before Ormsby could reply, they were interrupted 
 by a message from Mr. Lomax. ^ Led by a manservant, 
 whose trousers were so badly in need of bracing that 
 he looked as if he must trip over them, they marched 
 solemnly into their housemaster*s study, and found 
 that four more new boys had arrived. 
 
 Two years before Mr. Lomax had spent his summer 
 holidays in a remote place in the Highlands, trying 
 to catch trout and to grow a beard. The trout re- 
 fused to be caught, and the beard, making a tenta- 
 tive appearance, was stubbly and red. At his wife's 
 urgent request, he refrained from showing his ex- 
 periment to the critical eyes of Granby. In fact, on 
 the day before he left the Highlands, he cut it off with 
 Mrs. Lomax's best scissors, and returned to his clean- 
 -shaven state. 
 
 Still, without his beard, he was more red than ruddy. 
 His hair had missed being carroty by a shade, or per- 
 haps two shades, but his eyebrows had a tinge of red- 
 ness, and his face was the colour of new red brick. 
 He did not look as if he had an ounce of superfluous 
 flesh on his body, and even when he was sitting down 
 he gave an impression of restlessness. Joe felt that at 
 any moment he might leap out of his chair and vault 
 over the table, just to proclaim the glorious fact that 
 he was alive and strong. 
 
 Seated at his table, Mr. Lomax cast a roving eye 
 over the boys grouped in front of him, and then told 
 them to answer to their names. In a moment it w^s 
 
THE FIRST DIMENSION 43 
 
 announced that a very fat boy, who looked like a 
 human sausage, was called Street ; that Harper had 
 a magnificent Adam's apple which jumped about 
 when he spoke ; that Clarkson's teeth were as irregular 
 as a French verb ; and that Cole was a prodigy for a 
 fourteen-year-old. 
 
 Indeed, Joe imagined that Cole must have strayed 
 into the room by mistake, for he was more than a 
 size bigger than any of the other boys, and there was 
 no doubt that the application of a razor would have 
 improved his personal appearance. Piper, spick and 
 span, sank into insignificance by the side of Cole, 
 and Ormsby's astonishment at the latter was totally 
 undisguised. 
 
 ' I believe he's a mammoth unless he's a yak,' he 
 whispered to Joe ; and Mr. Lomax immediately fell 
 upon him. 
 
 ' If you have anything to say, it is unnecessary to 
 whisper,' he said, and looked at Ormsby. 
 
 So far from having ' anything to say ' Ormsby 
 shuffled gradually from his rather prominent position 
 and took refuge behind Joe's back, on which, during 
 the next five minutes, he amused himself by forming 
 words with his finger. 
 
 Without any more preHminaries, Mr. Lomax, 
 speaking very quickly, began to address the new boys. 
 As far as Joe could understand they were being espe- 
 cially exhorted to keep themselves physically fit. 
 
 ' You have all got to remember,') Mr. Lomax said, 
 ' that although you are young boys now, the honour 
 of the house will be in your hands in a few years' time. 
 Look round the dining-room and see for yourselves 
 how high that honour has stood and stands to-day. 
 It is for you to keep up the standard, and to see that 
 you do not fail when the day comes for the house to 
 rfely upon you. Inefficiency is only another word 
 
44 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 for slackness. Don't forget that. If you will keep 
 your muscles in good condition, you will not have 
 much trouble with your minds.' 
 
 He went on in the same vein for another minute 
 or two, but Joe's attention was greatly diverted from 
 the harangue by the fact that such questions as, * I 
 think he will have to supply Arkwright with potted 
 muscles, don't you ? ' (with the comma and query 
 all complete), were being conveyed to him by means 
 of Ormsby's finger and his own back. 
 
 * Now I will take your measurements in alpha- 
 betical order/ Mr. Lomax finished up ; and Joe was 
 hugely astonished that this first ordeal was over with- 
 out his housemaster having said a single word about 
 work in school. 
 
 * What on earth does the man mean? I don't 
 believe my measurements are in alphabetical order ; I 
 haven't had time to put them straight,' Ormsby 
 whispered into Joe's ear, but Mr. Lomax was too busy 
 looking for a book to notice him. 
 
 ' All of you will, of course, be measured in the 
 school gymnasium,' Mr. Lomax remarked, with his 
 head half inside a drawer, * but I always keep my own 
 figures, so that I can keep an eye on your develop- 
 ment. I will take you in this order,' he continued, 
 when he had found the book : * Arkwright, Clarkson, 
 Give, Cole, Harper, Ormsby, Piper, Rumbold (I am 
 glad still to have a boy of that name in my house) ' 
 —at which statement Joe shuffled his feet, and Ormsby 
 wrote ' Prolonged cheers ' on his back — * Street. Will 
 all of you, except Arkwright, go through that door into 
 the drawing-room, and wait until you are called ? ' 
 
 * He's begun with the thin edge of the wedge, and 
 is going to finish with the fat ; but I'm glad I haven't 
 got to watch Arkwright's physical development. 
 Oh, Caesar's wife's uncle ! ' i. 
 
THE FIRST DIMENSION 45 
 
 This last exclamation was drawn from the expres- 
 sive Ormsby by the fact that he had passed through 
 the door, and had found Mrs. Lomax entertaining 
 three or four fellows, bigger and less unkempt than 
 Gole. 
 
 'Palmer,' Mrs. Lomax said, as if she was glad to 
 welcome this invasion, * these are the new boys. 
 Palmer,' she added, ' is the head of the house.' 
 
 Incumbent as it was upon Palmer to do something, 
 it must be admitted that he did not do much. Lift- 
 ing himself from his chair, he nodded at a distant 
 picture, blushed, and sat down. 
 
 Under similar conditions Joe felt perfectly cer- 
 tain that Bingo would not have blushed, nor had he 
 until that moment believed that such a blood as 
 Palmer could blush. Had it been in order, Joe would 
 have liked to congratulate him. 
 
 Ormsby, having found his seat behind the dahlias 
 vacant, had again taken it ; but before Joe could 
 join him a big fellow with a pale face and a moustache, 
 which seemed to have bloomed on one side of his 
 lip and only budded on the other, bore down upon him 
 iand asked if his name was Rumbold. 
 
 ' Yes,' Joe answered, and had a great desire to 
 say 'No.' 
 
 ' I guessed it. I was a friend of Bingo's ; I knew 
 he was sending a young brother here this term. I 
 dare say you have heard him speak of me.' 
 V ' I am awfully sorry, but I don't know what your 
 iiame is,' Joe was compelled to say. 
 y [ I'm Rose ; I forgot,' he answered. 
 
 ' O. L. Rose ? ' Joe said, and was rewarded by 
 
 ^ smile. ^ 'O 
 
 * He had never heard Rose's name mentioned by 
 
 Bingo, but in some old book he had seen ' O. L. Rose,' 
 
 and initials always remained glutinously in his memory. 
 
46 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 It was not a convenient time, Joe thought, to tell 
 Rose that Bingo had annexed one of his books ; but 
 had he wanted to, he would not have been able. For 
 Rose, who was too unctuous for Joe's liking, assailed 
 him with a string of questions about Flip, Jumpy, 
 Pads, and Bingo. Several times he corrected the 
 answers, and before he left the room with Palmer 
 and the other bloods he had succeeded in making 
 Joe exceedingly envious of Ormsby's seclusion. 
 
 Gradually Mr. Lomax worked through his list 
 until Street and Joe were alone, for Mrs. Lomax, 
 knowing that it was impossible to drag any conver- 
 sation out of boys who were going to be measured, 
 had left the room. 
 
 ' I shall catch it hot ; all my relations are very 
 fat until they are about twenty, and then they begin 
 to get thinner and thinner, and finish up almost like 
 skeletons,' Street said. 
 
 Joe looked at him with an eye anxious to discover 
 some means of encouraging him, but he looked in 
 vain. 
 
 ' You might mention that,' he replied. 
 
 * There wouldn't be the ghost of a chance of his 
 believing it if I did. I ought really to have brought 
 my father with me. Mr. Lomax might have believed 
 me then.' 
 
 ' I am too thin,' Joe said. 
 
 * I wouldn't worry about that ; he'd pass you if 
 you were made of string because you are a Rumbold,' 
 Street told him. 
 
 This everlasting reference to his name determined 
 Joe to say a few plain things to Street, but before he 
 could do more than begin one sentence, which would 
 not finish because he wanted to make it so very em-^ 
 phatic, his turn had come. > 
 
 He found Mr. Lomax turning over the pages of a 
 
THE FIRST DIMENSION 47 
 
 notebook, and looking anything but pleased. Physi- 
 cally, Joe guessed, the new boys had not reached a 
 high standard of development. But as he was pre- 
 paring for his examination he was led to understand 
 that Mr. Lomax had great hopes of him. 
 
 Measurements of Jumpy, Pads, and Bingo were 
 written in that terrible book, and as Mr. Lomax 
 looked back at them he smiled and told Joe that a 
 Rumbold had never failed to atone for a large number 
 of disappointments. His smile, however, vanished 
 as Joe submitted himself to the examination. 
 
 Joe failed dismally in biceps ; he was not broad 
 enough across the chest ; he was not heavy enough 
 for his age ; and his legs were too small, and said to 
 be in a deplorable condition. Altogether Joe's body 
 reduced Mr. Lomax to an almost peevish state of 
 exasperation, and it is to his credit that he kept his 
 temper, for the disappointment was really a serious 
 one to him. 
 
 * I can't make it out ; I can't understand it. Let 
 me measure your calf again,' he said ; but no measur- 
 ing tape in the world could bring Joe's calf up to a 
 normal standard. 
 
 * I knew your mother was making a mistake when 
 she sent you to Malcolm's instead of to Richardson's ; 
 I told her so at the time. You have been neglected 
 in every way ; you want hardening all round,' Mr. 
 Lomax said ; * but that must be the cause of it, 
 and to have found out the cause is more than half 
 the battle. We'll soon make you a Rumbold in more 
 than name. But I don't like entering those measure- 
 ments in my book ; I can't think what your father 
 would say about them. But never mind ; don't 
 worry about it ; I'll put you right in no time. Just 
 send Street to me.' 
 
 i Mr. Lomax had become more cheerful as he con- 
 
48 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 tinued to talk while Joe was dressing, but the latter 
 went back to his room wondering if his housemaster 
 ever thought of anything except muscles, and whether 
 he would have the patience to arrive at Street's 
 dimensions. 
 
 * I mean/ Ormsby greeted Joe at once, ' to bag 
 that book of Max's if I get a chance. Why should 
 he be allowed to put down in his blooming notebook 
 that my calf was half an inch too small when I was 
 fourteen ? ' 
 
 ' He'd only get another book if he lost that one, 
 and then he'd measure us all again. I'd rather be 
 vaccinated,' Joe replied. 
 
 ' We shall have trouble with Max ; he treated my 
 body as if it belonged to the house. I'm not going 
 to give my body away, and I'm not going to let any- 
 one bag it,' Ormsby announGed> and was continuing 
 to state his opinion of Mr. Lomax when Street was 
 seen ambling down the passage, and gurgling as he 
 ambled. 
 
 ' Halloa, what luck ? ' Joe shouted ; and Street's 
 figure blocked the doorway. 
 
 * I made a record round the middle, and heard a 
 lot about adipose tissue. He was rather rude,' he 
 said. 
 
 * Did you tell him about getting thin when you are 
 older ? ' asked Joe. 
 
 ' Yes, and he said, ** Then I wish you'd go away 
 and not let me see you again for several years," ' 
 Street replied, and went slowly back to his room. 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 A CLINGING ROSE 
 
 When Joe went to bed for the first time at Granby, 
 he found that Ormsby's cubicle was on one side of 
 his, and that Cole's was on the other. Cole went to 
 sleep as soon as he was in bed, and snored as soon as 
 he was asleep. At breakfast in the hall Joe discovered 
 that Ormsby sat on his left and Cole on his right. 
 
 ' This is awful,' Ormsby said, ' because we shall 
 never get a holiday from each other. Have you got 
 a letter already ? I only get about one a month.' 
 
 From London Mr. Rumbold had written Joe * the 
 jaw ' he had not found time to give. To be correct, 
 however, it was more of an exhortation to perform 
 athletic feats and to collect caps than an ordinary 
 lecture. Through the whole of it Joe could trace 
 a" suspicion of fear that he might prove a failure. 
 'Concentrate,' his father wrote ; * make up your mind 
 to get into the eleven and fifteen, and you will get 
 there. Your brothers have made your way easy for 
 you. And if you can find someone to take you into 
 the eleven room, you will find my name in one of the 
 best elevens Granby ever had.' 
 
 Joe put down the letter with something very like 
 a groan, and stared at the poached egg in front of 
 him. 
 
 49 
 
50 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 ' The middle of your egg seems to have done a 
 bolt ; there's nothing left except skin/ Ormsby said. 
 
 ' I should think Max is beginning to diet us already, 
 and this must have been meant for Street/ Joe, re- 
 plied, and then he had to answer some questions of 
 Cole's. 
 
 They were the usual questions about M. R., T. J., 
 N. C, and P. S., but Ormsby employed the time 
 during which Joe was answering them to look round 
 the hall. 
 
 ' IVe changed my mind,' he said, when Joe was 
 disengaged ; ' our room mustn't be a place for relics.' 
 
 ' If it was, it would be one way of getting rid of 
 you,' was the reply. 
 
 ' But it can't be, because this hall is already one,' 
 Ormsby continued ; ' you can't look straight or side- 
 ways without seeing " Rumbold " on the walls. 
 There's a photo of one of your brothers over there/ 
 ; fiThat's Pads ; he's rather a good sort.' 
 ^ Ormsby could not understand the detached manner 
 in which Joe spoke of his brothers ; it was, he supposed, 
 the Rumbold way of showing pride. For a moment 
 he looked puzzled, but then he cast doubt aside, and 
 went on : 
 
 ' It's like going into a house where some famous 
 man used to live, and that always gives me the pip.' 
 
 ' From the way you talk, anyone would think I'd 
 been round with a paint-pot sticking up those names". 
 How the dickens can I help it ? ' Joe returned. But 
 before Ormsby could continue, Mr. Lomax, alert 
 and smiling, pounced down upon Joe, and asked if 
 he had been given his porridge. 
 
 Joe longed to say that he never wanted to see any 
 porridge again, but guessing that such a confession 
 would irritate his housemaster he only said that he 
 had not missed it. .;..Ai^ 
 
A CLINGING ROSE ' 5^^ 
 
 ' A very stupid mistake. Fancy a Rumbold with- 
 out his porridge. Why, it's quite an institution in 
 the house — almost a mascot/ was Max's reply ; and 
 he evidently thought it amusing, for he went away to 
 repeat it to the boys at the senior table. 
 
 ' It's just what I told you/ Joe heard Ormsby 
 saying ; * unless I am jolly careful, I shall catch it.' 
 
 ' Catch what ? ' 
 
 ' I am in danger of becoming Rumboldish/ Ormsby 
 replied, ' and it is a disease which I should say Piper 
 would catch easily. He's already staring at those 
 boards, and wondering how soon he can get his name 
 on them. A Rumboldship is got by the sweat of 
 your brow and many blisters, and before you are elected 
 you must have hit a few balls on to the top of some 
 inconvenient place like a chapel.' 
 
 ' Absolute drivel,' Joe remarked, and in trying to 
 remove an energetic fly from the back of his head 
 he inadvertently smacked Ormsby's. 
 
 ' Has it come to that already ? ' the latter asked. 
 
 ' I was slogging at a fly,' Joe explained. 
 
 'So many fellows have a go at me on purpose that 
 it's a -bit rough to be swiped by mistake. You might 
 say *' Fore," or whatever it is golfers say, when you 
 are letting out at another fly, and I'll move.' 
 
 Having finished his breakfast, Joe left the hall 
 without replying to this ; but he had not been in his 
 room for a minute when Ormsby, still full of spirits 
 and conversation, joined him. 
 
 ' I was afraid you would soon be sick of me, but it's 
 like this,' he began at once : ' I live alone with my 
 father, and he's frightfully learned and scaring. 
 He's got a thing called a *' European reputation " ; 
 he can't help it, and he's one of the very best, but it's 
 not a comfortable thing to live with. I'm so afraid 
 of saying something silly I never say anything at 
 
52 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 all. I get sort of bottled up, and when the holidays 
 are finished I come out in spate and overflow all over 
 the place. My father doesn't know anything about 
 games, and doesn't want to, so when I found out that 
 I had got to live with you — well, it seemed rather 
 funny. But if you get sick of my jawing. 111 seal 
 up my tongue — embalm it or something.' 
 
 ' ril heave a book at your head when Fye had 
 enough,' Joe told him. n '• 
 
 ' That's capital, and then we shall know where we 
 are. But don't shoot straight,' he replied, and while 
 he was speaking Palmer walked into the room. 
 
 ' I want you fellows,' he said, ' to change directly 
 after morning-school ; we are going to have a game 
 of footer on the house-field, just to see what you are 
 made of.' 
 
 He looked enormously big, but as he also appeared 
 to be quite amiable Joe asked him where the field was. 
 
 ' Just at the back of the house,' he replied ; ' it 
 used to be Max's orchard, but he has cleared away 
 the trees so that we can have some sort of a game on 
 it. We are the only house which has a field of its 
 own. It's large enough for you to stretch your legs 
 on.' And then he asked whether Bingo was all right. 
 
 As soon as he had been assured that Bingo was iA 
 excellent health he disappeared, and Ormsby immedir 
 ately gave a terrific sigh. 
 
 ^j^xil'm made of the usual stuff,' he said, ' and I wanted 
 to stretch my legs by going into the town to buy 
 things.' 
 
 * What sort of things ? ' Joe asked suspiciously. 
 
 'Anything. I've got more money than I ever had, 
 and I want to spend it. The thing to do with money 
 is to get rid of it at once, or you'll always be wastii^g 
 time wondering what you'll spend it on, and how 
 much you have got left. And as for old Max cutting 
 
A CLINGING ROSE 53 
 
 down apple-trees so that we can stretch our legs, I 
 call it sheer waste. I'd rather eat a Cox's orange 
 pippin any day than kick a football. It's time to go 
 to chapel ; we'd better find Arkwright, or he'll get 
 into the school museum, and if he once gets there, 
 they'll never let him out,' he continued to grumble 
 in a good-natured way, while Joe was putting on 
 his boots. 
 
 They had, however, no difficulty in finding Ark- 
 wright, for when they went out of their room they 
 discovered him propped forlornly against the wall 
 of the study passage. 
 
 * You look as if you had been left there by some- 
 cfie. Cheer up,' Ormsby told him. 
 
 M didn't like to disturb you, and I don't know 
 the way to chapel,' he answered. 
 
 * What you are suffering from is a rush of polite- 
 ness to the head. Burst in whenever you like ; do 
 it -with a bang ; make things hum,' Ormsby went on. 
 ''Before they had left the house. Street, Clive, and 
 -Harper joined them. 
 
 c^ * I am in the same room with Arkwright. Just 
 liaok at him,' Street remarked to Joe. 
 
 But before Joe could answer, Clive said: ' I say, 
 Rumbold, I hope you don't mind Harper and me 
 hanging on to you for a bit ; I expect you know your 
 way about this place, and we don't.' 
 ■^^* 1 know my way up to chapel ; you can't miss it. 
 Come on/ Joe replied, and tried to catch up Ormsby, 
 who was still pouring advice into Arkwright's ears. 
 
 But Clive was most anxious to be pleasant. 'I 
 ^w your brother, N. C, make over a hundred against 
 Sussex — ^ripping innings : I got his autograph,' he 
 remarked. 
 
 ^ '' * Pads is quite a good sort,' Joe said, and remem- 
 Jbii^red that he had made the same reply to Ormsby. 
 
54 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 i ' I wish I had a lot of brothers who were first-class 
 cricketers/ Clive continued. 
 
 ' You might get a bit fed up with them/ Joe 
 grunted. 
 
 ■ M'isBy Jove ! no/ Harper remarked so emphatically 
 that his Adam's apple made quite a journey ; ' you 
 never get fed up with seeing your own name in the 
 papers. My father once brought a libel action against 
 a newspaper, and I never had such a time in my life. 
 All the fellows at my school were awfully keen/ 
 ;: !"vWho won it ? ' Joe asked. 
 
 ' We won, but we only got a farthing damages/ 
 
 ' Rotten swindle,' Clive announced. 
 
 ' It doesn't matter how much you win by as long 
 as you win. My father meant to give whatever 
 damages he got to some charity,' Harper explained, 
 and Joe waited for Street, who had been left behind. 
 
 ' He seems to me to have a lot of side on— sort of 
 treats his brothers as if they were too big bloods for 
 us to talk about,' Clive, a moment later, remarked 
 to Harper. 
 
 tP'rfiRojblr' the latter answered; * he's a jolly good 
 sort. Wouldn't you put on side if you happened to 
 be a Rumbold ? ' 
 
 ' I dare say I should fancy myself a bit,' Clive 
 admitted. 
 
 Joe lost sight of Ormsby in chapel, but soon after- 
 wards he discovered that they were in the same class, 
 and that their desks were next each other in the 
 Big Classical. 
 
 ? ' Talk about coincidences, we might as well be the 
 Siamese twins. It's uncanny,' Ormsby said, and 
 stopped abruptly, for his class-master's eyes were 
 turned in his direction. 
 
 Early impressions of Mr. Ridley were entirely 
 favourable. On the first morning of term he certain>ly 
 
A CLINGING ROSE SS 
 
 did not lay himself out to worry anybody, and al- 
 though he did have to attack a boy named Buckle, 
 anyone who had ever been at school could see with 
 one eye that Buckle was an old hand at provoking 
 masters. 
 
 As Ormsby and Joe walked back to the house 
 they agreed that Buckle was a silly idiot, which was 
 more a tribute to Mr. Ridley than a condemnation 
 of Buckle. 
 
 ! ' I like our beak,* Ormsby said ; ' he looks as if 
 he had just had a bath, and I should think he'd make 
 a very good husband/ 
 
 ' You're quite cracked,' Joe told him. 
 
 * That's how my father always describes nice jog- 
 trot people who bore him to tears. I should think 
 our beak is a kind, easy-going man who won't worry 
 us much, and he's about the right age.' 
 V ' What is the right age ? ' 
 
 ' Why, just old enough to like a quiet life, and young 
 enough to remember that he didn't know everything 
 when he was in the cradle. . He'll do,' 
 
 ' I shouldn't be so sure that he's a slacker if I were 
 you ; he looks as if he might drop on you like blazes 
 if he felt like it,' Joe said. 
 
 ' Anyhow, I am going to think of him as a man I 
 can trust, until I find him out ; and now for this 
 rotten footer,' Ormsby returned. 
 
 In the field they found some of the bloods of the 
 house kicking balls about, and Mr. Lomax talking 
 seriously to Palmer. In turn Mr. Lomax inspected 
 all the new boys, except Street and Arkwright, who 
 were, for different reasons, unworthy of his inspection. 
 
 i You look better stripped— more like a Rumbold,' 
 he said to Joe ; but Cole was the boy who met with 
 his warmest approval. ' In two years' time at the 
 most that boy wiU be a giant and in the school fifteen ; 
 
56 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 he s well worth watching/ Max said to Paliner, and 
 added that the game had better begin. 
 
 * Tve only ever seen one football, and I am sure 
 that it was rounder than this one. Can you tell me 
 what I am expected to do ? ' Arkwright asked Ormsby. 
 
 No more comical figure than Arkwright *s had ever 
 been seen on Max's field. He was wearing a long 
 grey sweater that reached his knees, and under- 
 neath it were legs that looked scarcely thicker than 
 pencils. A puzzled expression was on his face, such 
 as is to be seen on the faces of people who are playing 
 some new round game, and are wondering why they 
 are doing it. \ 
 
 For a moment Ormsby looked as if he was goihg 
 to break out into tumultuous laughter, and then he 
 nianaged to check himself. 
 
 * W^at you have to do is to keep out of Cole's way ^ 
 he's on the other side, and if he falls on the top of 
 you hell squash your life out,' he said very seriously. 
 
 ' I will be very careful/ Arkwright said ; and then 
 the sides lined up. Palmer and Rose looking aftfer 
 the one on which Ormsby, Joe, and Arkwright were 
 playing, while the other one — which included Cole--r 
 was in charge of two bloods called West and Aritii- 
 tage. ;;. 
 
 * Just run about enough to keep warm ; but keep 
 your eye on the ball, and don't touch it,' Ormsby 
 continued, * or you'll get trodden on.' 
 
 While Joe was looking at Arkwright, and trying 
 to think of something more cheerful to say to hira. 
 Cole suddenly kicked off and landed the ball straig^it 
 against his chest. The result of this was that Jpe 
 fell over abruptly, and had the novel experience 
 of having several of his opponents scrambling aboW 
 on the top of him. 
 
 When this melee ceased and Joe regained his feet^, 
 
A CLINGING ROSE 57 
 
 he was utterly astonished to hear Palmer saying: 
 'Well played, Rumbold ; always fall on the ball/ 
 
 * That's not what Ormsby told me to do/ Ark- 
 wright remarked in Joe'$ ear. 
 
 But at that moment Joe had not the wind, even 
 if he had the inclination, to explain to either Palmer 
 or Arkwright that chance, and not design, had caused 
 him to lie with the ball beneath him. Glory, however, 
 having come to him so quickly and unexpectedly, 
 he was not in the least greedy for further distinction, 
 and before five minutes had passed it was clear that 
 Cole was destined to be the central figure of the fray. 
 
 Twice Cole got the ball and barged up the field, 
 leaving his opponents lying at all angles upon the 
 ground. In Joe's opinion, he was more like an in- 
 furiated bull than a boy ; but whatever he resembled 
 both Ormsby and Joe were fired with a desire to stop 
 him. So, disregarding the rules of the game — which 
 was not difficult, because at that time they knew 
 scarcely any of them — they kept as close as they 
 could to Cole, and fairly went for him before he got 
 under way. In spite of shouts and protests from 
 Palmer, Rose, and West (Armitage only laughed), 
 the game rapidly degenerated into a struggle to sup- 
 press Cole. Whenever they got him down they 
 soundly sat upon him, Arkwright always arriving 
 last, but in time to perch himself insecurely on the 
 Jop pf the heap. 
 
 - A few of the smaller boys in the house had been 
 pressed into taking a part in this struggle, but most 
 of them took it in a very light and frivolous spirit. 
 Not until it was over did Joe realize that Ormsby had 
 feen the promoter of this concentrated attack upon 
 Cole. 
 
 J It would have been a dull show if we hadn't done 
 something to liven it up. As it was, it was rather 
 
58 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 good fun. Even the bloods laughed towards the 
 end of it,' Ormsby said as they were changing. 
 
 But if the bloods had laughed at this exhibition, 
 they showed on that same evening that tiiey were 
 not altogether pleased with it. 
 
 Palmer was captain of footer, as well as head of 
 the house, but he was a man of few words, while Rose 
 was a man of many. After tea all the new fellows 
 were summoned to appear before Palmer and Rose 
 in the house library, and after Palmer had hummed 
 a good deal and hawed a little, Rose proceeded to 
 address the meeting. 
 ^ Nature had not endowed Rose with attractive 
 features, and his large mouth contained a very long 
 and active tongue. During his oration Palmer kept 
 on nodding and saying, ' That's it,' while Ormsby, 
 sitting by the side of Joe, made sounds suggestive 
 of sleep. 
 
 The rules of Rugby football were explained in 
 detail ; then came advice about the game, and this 
 was followed by some remarks about the house, at 
 which fellows in other houses would have scoffed. »' 
 
 Having at last been told what was expected of them, 
 Joe imagined that they would be allowed to go, but 
 he did not know Rose. 
 
 Individual merit was the next subject, but where 
 it was going to be found in that absurd scramble was 
 more than Joe could conceive. Rose, however, had 
 a vivid imagination. 
 
 Piper was told that in time he might become a 
 * pretty nippy half-back.' Cole was praised for his 
 strength and weight, but censured for his selfishness. 
 Street and Arkwright were dismissed as hopetes 
 for the present. Give, Harper, and Clarkson were 
 bunched together, and told that with a mighty dose 
 ofi'^gym -they might become pretty useful in a few 
 
A CLINGING ROSE 59 
 
 years. Ormsby was told that football was not a mere 
 rag, and that if he dared to behave again as if it was 
 he would suffer. r. i , . ■ . 
 
 Joe alone had not been mentioned, and in the guile- 
 lessness of his heart he thought that he had b^en 
 left out because his performance had been so bad 
 that it had reduced even Rose to a state of speech- 
 lessness. Indeed, Joe imagined that out of considera^^ 
 tion for his brothers. Rose was content to pass hiji^ 
 over in the silence which stood for kindness. 
 
 Never was he more mistaken. He had merely 
 been left out because Rose, like an orator, was keeping 
 his tit-bit until the end. 
 
 'And lastly,* he said, *I will mention the most 
 promising player,' and proceeded not only to say 
 what Joe's brothers had done for the house, but also 
 what Joe was clearly going to do. 
 o?To Joe this finale was frankly disconcerting and 
 almost indecent. His sense of the fitness of things 
 revolted against Rose's panegyric ; his sense of 
 modesty was outraged. No doubt — as Ormsby 
 said afterwards — Rose thought that he was doing 
 him a good turn, but however good his intentions 
 were, the result of them was to make Joe so ashamed 
 of himself that blinding tears were standing in his 
 eyes when he got back to his room. Ormsby had 
 one glance at him, and then, having said ' Rough 
 luck ! ' opened a book and began to whistle. r 
 
 It was some time before Joe was sure enough of 
 himself to express any opinion about Rose, but at 
 last he blurted out : * I am simply fed up with that 
 fellow. If he'd got the sense of a guinea-pig, he must 
 know that you always tackled Cole first.' 
 
 'I don't take my games seriously enough to please 
 great men,' Ormsby answered, without looking up. 
 
 * I'll write and ask Pads about him. It's absolutely 
 
6o A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 siekening to have to listen to such drivel. You can't 
 make a fellow good at games by pretending he is/ 
 Joe continued. 
 
 To this Ormsby did not reply. For some reason 
 which he could not by any means understand Joe 
 was really very disgusted and angry, but for his own 
 part he was convinced that a Rumbold must be good 
 at games, and that this member of the family was 
 making an extraordinary fuss about a very trivial 
 business. Still, he had already seen enough of Joe 
 to like him, and if his * stable companion ' felt like 
 being angry with . Rose, he was quite ready to be 
 angry with him. For however great a swell Rose 
 might be, he was also, Ormsby thought, a very good 
 imitation of a thorough bounder. 
 
 * rd write to your brother now if I were you. We 
 might as well know what sort of chap Rose really is,' 
 Ormsby said at last ; but just as Joe was going to 
 take this advice, a fellow called Temperley, who had 
 been at Granby for a year, came in to see Ormsby. . i 
 
 He had been at the same private school with Ormsby; 
 and his first question was to ask the latter if he was 
 still as mad as ever. 
 
 ' I became sane directly after you left,' Ormsby 
 answered, * and I gradually managed to shunt all the 
 discredit for my rows on to you. All the beaks used 
 to go about saying, '' Since Temperley left, Ormsby 
 has become a different boy/' You could hear them 
 chattering it all over the place.' 
 
 ' When youVe got tired of hearing this fellow jaw, 
 send him along to me ; I can cure him,' Temperley, 
 who looked as good-natured as anyone can look with- 
 out appearing stupid, said to Joe. xx:* 
 
 'We have already arranged that I am to throw a 
 book at his head whenever I want him to stop,' Joe 
 answered. 
 
A CLINGING ROSE 6i 
 
 ' Only a paper-covered book — ^I forgot to mention 
 that/ Ormsby said, and added at once : * I say, Pro, 
 you might tell us a few things.' i,,V} 
 
 'Blaze away! That's what I came for. But it 
 will be pretty hard to tell Rumbold anything he doesn't 
 know about Granby/ was the reply. 
 
 * I want to know just how big. an ass Rose is/ Joe 
 said. . . 
 
 /That's a fair stumper to begin with. How do 
 you know he is an ass at all ? Your brother Bingo 
 didn't think he was.' 
 
 In a few terse words Joe announced why he had 
 concluded that Rose was asinine, and at the end of 
 them Temperley smiled for quite a minute. 
 
 / I don't like Rose,' he began, * but some fellows 
 do. I should say it is wisest to Uke Rose; he's 
 crafty, and he's good enough at games to pass in a 
 crowd. But if I were you I wouldn't get the idea 
 into my head that he's an ass, because anyone who 
 thinks that generally gets it smacked. It's a pity 
 he's decided to keep an eye on you, but it's quite 
 natural because he simply pulled himself to the top 
 by hanging on to Bingo's tail. He's a sticky sort 
 pf chap.' 
 
 >;.' Is Pabner a good sort ? ' Ormsby asked, .-.il 
 ; / One of the best, only he will probably let Rose 
 run the house. Palmer gets very sleepy after meals.' 
 :n/ Armitage ? ' 
 
 ' He's the best of the lot, and he's really our spot 
 man at games, but his luck is dead out. He's caught 
 j|iumps and chicken-pox since he's been here, and he's 
 had water on the knee twice, and a broken collar- 
 bone ; and the only time he's cribbed he got nailed 
 by the Head making a surprise visit into the class- 
 room. Did Max ask if you were immune ? ' 
 
 * Im — what ? ' Ormsby asked. 
 
62 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 '■ '^^itnmune. He asked me, and I said I was because 
 I was too frightened to say I wasn't, and it turned 
 out that I had been lying badly. What he wanted 
 to know was if I had got through the silly diseases 
 which you are not supposed to have twice ; but he's 
 dropped that lately, and gets it all out of the doctor/ 
 
 Joe wanted very much to know what Temperley 
 thought of Bingo, but was far too shy to ask such an 
 embarrassing question. Ormsby, however, had no 
 scruples when he wanted to satisfy his curiosity. 
 
 ' Why,' he asked, ' did this chap's brother let Rose 
 hang on to him ? ' 
 
 ' Some fellows are like that, aren't they ? But 
 Bingo could really do things, and if he hadn't dug up 
 some silly old customs which were better buried, I 
 could forgive him putting on a bit of side,' Temperley 
 replied. 
 
 ■ *' 'What old customs did Rumbold's brother dig up ? ' 
 Ormsby asked. 
 
 ' A lot of silly bunkum about making new fellows 
 sing, and tossing them in a blanket if they can't get 
 through a verse. And then he started the Pow-wow 
 Club again, to which no one can belong unless he can 
 talk sense for five minutes without stopping. Bingo 
 made himself President and just walked in, but the 
 only fellow who ever qualified properly was Rose.' 
 
 ' Are you a member ? ' Ormsby asked. 
 
 * Good gracious, no ! Only ten fellows belong, 
 and they are all bloods.' 
 
 ' What a fearful ass Bingo is ! ' Joe exclaimed, so 
 emphatically that both Temperley and Ormsby 
 laughed. 
 
 ' He was a mighty fine athlete,' the former said 
 eventually. 
 
 'Do you think we shall have to sing?* Ormsby 
 inquired. 
 
A CLINGING ROSE 63 
 
 'You may bet your boots ypu will/ Temperley 
 assured him, and added that he must go. 
 
 ' But, Pro, I never sing unless I'm miles away from 
 everywhere. I can't sing a note, and I haven't 
 brought my music with me.' 
 
 'Just bawl something — anything — only go on with 
 it, and get it over quickly/ Temperley said as he 
 opened the door. 
 
 'I like that fellow,' Joe immediately confided in 
 Ormsby ; ' but why do you call him " Pro " ? ' 
 
 ' He used to be called '' Tem," until someone 
 thought " Pro " was better/ 
 
 * Oh, I see,' Joe remarked ; and then the bell rang 
 for the juniors to go to bed. 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 CLOSE QUARTERS 
 
 Some days passed, and it became increasingly ob\dous 
 that Rose was determined to treat Joe more as a 
 Rumbold than as an utterly unimportant new boy. 
 With all his— and Ormsby's — might Joe dodged 
 Rose, and tried to show that he wanted no favours 
 showered upon him. But Bingo was expected in 
 Granby in a few days, and Rose meant to tell him 
 how carefully Joe had been looked after. 
 
 Rose chose him as a fag, and then practically 
 gave him nothing to do, and the latter was torn be- 
 tween a desire to do his share of the work, and an 
 intense wish never to set eyes on Rose if he could 
 help it. By a stroke of fortune Omisby was Rose's 
 other fag, and with the greatest cheerfulness in the 
 world he put up with insults and unfairnesses, and 
 was always ready to keep Joe hidden by any means 
 he could imagine. In those early days Joe became 
 really fond of Ormsby, finding him a true friend in 
 days of trouble. 
 
 in the dormitory, however, Cole and Piper often 
 spoke jeeringly of Rose to Joe ; but although things 
 had once or twice become rather lively, nothing war- 
 like had actually happened. And then on the night 
 before Bingo was said to be arriving, an explosion 
 happened quite unexpectedly. Besides all the n^w 
 
 64 
 
CLOSE QUARTERS 65 
 
 * 
 
 boys, the dormitory contained three fellows — Bat- 
 tersby, Crake, and Webster — who had been left over 
 from the previous year. The fact that they had been 
 chosen to remain in the junior dormitory was not 
 exactly a testimonial in their favour, but since they 
 had been at Granby for a year they naturally con- 
 sidered themselves — after bed-time — of considerable 
 importance. Battersby was a typical Maxite ; he 
 had no mind worth mentioning and did not want any, 
 but he had plenty of muscle and wanted to have 
 more. Perhaps, considering that he could not re- 
 member anything out of a book, he was wise to devote 
 himself entirely to feats of strength. 
 
 Every night before he got into bed he ' pulledrup ' 
 vigorously on his cubicle bar, and as soon as his arms 
 were tired out he lay on his back and raised his legs 
 until his gruntings and groanings resounded through 
 the dormitory. As his great idea was to increase 
 the number of these performances by one each night, 
 Joe could not help thinking that he would eventu- 
 ally be found exercising himself in the early morning. 
 
 But Battersby had several good points. For 
 instance, he had not the smallest desire for anyone 
 else to imitate him, and the only way in which he 
 showed that he was different from mere new fellows 
 was by insisting that someone should frequently 
 admire his muscles. He liked Arkwright to do this, 
 because the latter was most honestly surprised at the 
 size of them, and thought at first that Battersby had 
 several deformities which ought to be removed. 
 
 Crake ought, so Battersby said, to have been at 
 Bonham's house. The Bonhamites had a reputation 
 for being the best-dressed fellows at Granby, and 
 Crake was a kind of languid swell who considered 
 secretly that most of the Maxites were semi-bar- 
 barians. Sometimes he could not be bothered to 
 
66 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 « 
 
 pull off his own socks, and sometimes he wanted a 
 fellow to be astonished by a lot of flaming ties which 
 he kept in a drawer. Arkwright again was generally 
 chosen for these performances. Ormsby, when 
 selected as sock-puller, promptly and rudely refused 
 to pull off anyone's socks, and advised Arkwright 
 not to do it. But although Arkwright was generally 
 prepared to obey Ormsby, he refused on this occasion, 
 because, as he explained to Joe, ' If I have got to be 
 kicked by someone, I would rather be kicked by 
 Ormsby than by Crake.' 
 
 Webster was a most extraordinarily solemn boy ; 
 he looked as if he had never seen or heard anything 
 worth laughing at, but his face had an inquisitive 
 expression. Joe and Ormsby agreed that this ex- 
 pression came from his constant search to find some- 
 thing amusing, but by the time they met him he must 
 have despaired of success, for every night he wanted 
 to be told a tragic tale. 
 
 Arkwright actually volunteered for this task, so 
 after he had duly admired Battersby's muscles and 
 been astonished by Crake's ties, he finished up by 
 pouring a depressing tale into the ears of Webster, 
 rortunately for him, the same tale — ^with slight 
 variations — ^was generally successful in sending Web- 
 ster to sleep, and the first time on which he had any 
 trouble was when he foolishly began a tale by Mr. 
 Jacobs, and laughed while he was telling it. Then 
 Webster jumped up in bed and asked several questions ; 
 hot, as it were, on the scent of something funny. 
 
 But the only results were that Mr. Jacobs was 
 ultimately dismissed with ignominy, and that Ark- 
 wright [returned to the same sad, old story, in which, 
 at the end of a few nights, the characters were entirely 
 new ones, for the sound reason that all the original 
 ones had already been hanged, shot, or drowned. 
 
CLOSE QUARTERS 67 
 
 The main difficulty was that although Webster 
 liked the characters to meet some tragic fate, he also 
 insisted that they should meet with accidental deaths. 
 * And/ as Arkwright complained to Ormsby, 'it is 
 absurd for a man to be hanged by accident/ In 
 fact, his only grievances against Webster were that he 
 was not allowed to reproduce Mr. Jacobs, of whom 
 he had never heard until he had become Ormsby's 
 private pupil, and that someone had got to die every 
 night. 
 
 Very different as Battersby, Crake, and Webster 
 were in many ways, they were alike in remembering 
 that they had emerged from a state of bondage, and 
 that the rest of the dormitory had not. No boy 
 can be said to come out of bondage at Granby until 
 he has been there for a year, and if he is not a hewer 
 of wood, he is, at any rate, a drawer of water for the 
 baths of bloods. ^ c 
 
 No one in the dormitory was by title head of it, 
 but Battersby, Crake, and Webster were really in 
 command. 
 
 The trouble began on this evening from a variety 
 of small causes. Battersby was angry because he 
 had failed to add to his number of ' pull-ups,' Crake 
 was sulky because his pinkest tie had disappeared, 
 and Ormsby had dropped his collar-stud in the dor- 
 mitory, and declared his intention of not going to bed 
 until he found it. 
 
 No sooner had the lights gone out than Ormsby 
 went into Joe's cubicle to borrow matches, Joe had 
 once heard someone say that a sensible man always 
 had matches, a knife, a piece of string, and a shilling 
 in his pocket, so for his first term — or rather the first 
 part of it — ^he always carried matches and a knife, 
 not because he wished to be only semi-sensible, but 
 because he thought the string was silly, and uncon- 
 
68 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 troUable circumstances often compelled him to be 
 without the shilling. 
 
 * Fve lost my collar-stud, and I want your matches/ 
 Ormsby said. 
 
 In response Joe growled, the growl being intended 
 to mean that he was both asleep and angry — an im- 
 possible combination. 
 
 VI say, don't waste time by pretending you're 
 asleep ; I can't hunt for the wretched thing in the 
 morning, and I can't go to breakfast with my collar 
 bulging round my neck,' Ormsby continued, and 
 began to prod the sleeper's body. 
 
 Then Joe gave up the pretence of sleep, and merely 
 tried to be angry. * Why isn't the morning just as 
 good a time to hunt for it as now ? ' he asked. 
 
 Ormsby knew at least five good reasons why the 
 morning was not the time to look for a collar-stud, 
 and after he had given them he offered to rout in 
 Joe's pockets. 
 
 ' Perhaps you took them out of your pocket,' he 
 added. 
 
 * I didn't, because I never thought that anyone 
 would be idiot enough to want them at night,' Joe 
 said. 
 
 ' It seems to be the ordinary time to want them,' 
 Ormsby returned. 
 
 This Joe denied because Ormsby said it as if he was 
 sorry for him ; besides, it was so irritatingly true that 
 it had got to be denied. Eventually, however, Joe 
 got out of bed and found the matches, and then, 
 feeling exceedingly awake, he went to the entrance of 
 his cubicle and looked out. 
 
 'There's moon enough without matches,' he said 
 to Ormsby, but the latter went on groping, and did 
 not answer. 
 
 ' Haven't you found it ? ' Joe went on. 
 
CLOSE QUARTERS 69 
 
 'I'm not barging about on my hands and knees 
 for fun ; you might come and help/ was the answer. 
 
 ' It's better than doing nothing/ Joe said, and 
 began to hunt. 
 
 While they were still groping Cole came out of his 
 cubicle, and said that he wanted Arkwright to rub 
 ' Elliman ' into his back. At the time Arkwright 
 was still engaged in pouring gloom over Webster, 
 but Battersby was in the middle of the dormitory 
 talking to Clive about Sandow, and Crake had button- 
 holed Street, and was asking him if he had got his 
 tie. Piper was lolling against his cubicle; no boy 
 ever lolled more superbly than Piper — he had made 
 a fine art of it. Joe was the only boy in the dormitory 
 who was fully pyjamaed. 
 
 Then Battersby suddenly trod with a bare foot 
 upon the stud, to his wrath and Ormsby's joy. But 
 this put Ormsby out of employment, and gave him 
 time to deal with other matters. He was already 
 indignant at the number of things Arkwright had to 
 do, and when Cole again said that he was waiting to 
 have his back rubbed, Ormsby told him that he 
 could rub his own back, for Arkwright was going to 
 bed. 
 
 * Arkwright isn't a slave,' he informed Cole. 
 
 ' No, he's a worm ; but he'll do to rub my back/ 
 was the reply. 
 
 Thereupon a crisp interchange of remarks followed, 
 during which Webster stalked solemnly out of his 
 cubicle. Directly afterwards all the fellows in the 
 dormitory were clustered round Cole and Ormsby. 
 
 There was no mention of a fight, but at any moment 
 one might have started, for Ormsby kept on repeating 
 like a parrot that Cole was not going to bully Ark- 
 wright, while Cole grunted most aggressively. Really 
 it was rather a ridiculous scene, and it might havf 
 
T^ A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 cOfttitiu^ indefinitely had not Webster been spurred 
 to push himself into the front of it. 
 
 ' What Ormsby ^ys is right/ he declared very 
 gravely, ' though he is not the right fellow td say it. 
 I dislike! the smell of embrocation, and Cole must 
 rMiember he is only a squealer, and not allowed to 
 f^g anyone.' 
 
 H^ spoke exactly like a judge passing sentence, 
 and i6t a moment everyone stood and wondered 
 if thi^ wa^ the end of what had promised to be some- 
 thing exciting. A mild titter from Ormsby, who 
 was amused by Webster suddenly asserting himself, 
 was the only sound heard in the dormitory; and 
 then Cote addressed Webster. 
 
 ' Go,' he said, ' and hide your gloomy face. You 
 look like a churchwarden and talk like a blooming 
 beak.' 
 
 It is difficult to understand why some people do 
 not mind being churchwardens, while everybody 
 resents bdng told that they look like them. At any 
 fate it was the churchwarden part of Cole's reply 
 which upset Webster. 
 
 ' Churchwarden, churchwarden/ he mumbled ; 
 * confound the fellow's cheek ! ' And then Cole made 
 a lunge at Arkwright, who was standing next to Joe. 
 
 After that the scrimmage began, and it began so 
 quickly that there was no time to think about sides. 
 If it had been a first-class game of any kind, some- 
 one would have promptly appealed against the light ; 
 but there was nothing first-class about this encounter, 
 nor, for that matter, were there any umpires to whom 
 to appeal. At the beginning Ormsby and Joe kept 
 as dose as they could to Arkwright, for there seemed 
 to be two balls in this fray, one of which was repre- 
 sented by Arkwright and the other by Cole. But 
 very soon the idea of keeping near to anyone in par- 
 
CLOSE QUARTERS 71 
 
 ticular was abandoned, and they just barged about' 
 upsetting fellows and being upset. 
 
 When asked afterwards why they exercised them- 
 selves in this extraordinary manner, neither Joe nor 
 Ormsby could give any reason. But they admitted 
 that, once having started, they did not feel in the 
 least like stopping. 'f '!r 
 
 * The whole thing,' Ormsby explained to Tem- 
 perley, ' was rather like a dog-fight, in which a whole 
 host of dogs suddenly go at it like mad without seem- 
 ing as if they want to go for any particular dog. I 
 wanted to get at Cole, and so, I suppose, did Webster ; 
 but everyone else just scrummed round, because 
 somehow they had begun to scrum around.' / 
 
 On this occasion the semi-darkness added to the 
 fascination of the fray, and Joe was thick in the midst 
 of a most determined scrimmage by the door, when 
 he was suddenly hurled backwards and fell against 
 something unexpectedly soft. As he went through 
 space and imagined that he would bump with violence 
 against wood or wall, he was momentarily relieved 
 to find that his journey had ended against anything 
 so pliant. Before, however, his joy was so to speak 
 full, two arms embraced him. Such arms, Joe thought, 
 could only belong to the massive Cole, the very fellow 
 for whom he had been more or less looking during 
 the last few minutes. And Joe was in no mood to 
 be suffocated without a struggle. 
 
 Subsequently he was told that he was ' a mad idiot ' 
 and other cheerlessly redundant things of that kind, 
 but it has to be remembered to his credit, or discredit, 
 that his was a backward flight into this embrace, 
 and that he had no chance to see by whom it was 
 bestowed. 
 
 Anyhow, far from suffering it gladly, he did some 
 pretty work with his heels, and tried to put up what 
 
72 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 he considered to be a good fight. Indeed, so hard 
 did he kick and wriggle, that his first suspicion that 
 possibly he was not engaged in single combat with 
 Cole was aroused by the sudden silence which had 
 fallen over the dormitory. 
 
 Of course, Mr. Lomax could have simplified matters 
 if he had cared to speak. But that was not Max's 
 way; sometimes he behaved better, and sometimes 
 worse than an ordinary master, but he prided him- 
 self upon never being usual. 
 
 As a matter of fact, the exciting part of this struggle 
 for freedom from an embrace, which had developed 
 rapidly into a squeeze, lasted a very short time, but 
 when Joe thought of it every second seemed to have 
 grown into a minute. Still, it is not given to every 
 boy to spend even a second in a backheeled assault 
 upon his housemaster's shins, nor is such an assault 
 to be recommended. For Joe ended in a prone posi- 
 tion upon the floor, in which Mr. Lomax kept him 
 with a weighty foot until he had lighted the gas. 
 
 Then Joe saw both his mistake and also Ormsby 
 groping about on his hands and knees. It did not 
 seem quite the right moment to remind Ormsby that 
 his collar-stud had been found, but what on earth 
 he was looking for Joe could not understand. 
 
 Max treated Joe with contempt, which was as good 
 treatment as any reasonable boy could expect under 
 the circumstances. Briefly both he and Ormsby 
 were told to go to bed. Not a single question did 
 Max ask, but Joe saw him stoop and pick up two or 
 three matches from the floor, and in the guilelessness 
 of his heart he considered him a most tidy man. 
 
 After Max had gone everyone seemed to fight shy 
 of appearing again in the open, but various com- 
 batants could be heard conversing plaintively with 
 their injuries, and Joe also was told by Piper that 
 
CLOSE QUARTERS 73 
 
 what had happened was due to his folly in not recog- 
 nizing Max. 
 
 To this absurd charge Joe made no reply, for not 
 only had he been in bed when Ormsby had come 
 into his cubicle, but even if this was dismissed as a 
 huge fluke, he could not see how he could be expected 
 to recognize Max when he had been hurled backwards 
 into him. But it just showed, he thought, that in 
 a row Piper was the sort of fellow who looked round 
 for somebody to take his share of the blame. 
 
 Conscious of many bruises, it was difficult to go to 
 sleep, and he seemed scarcely to have shut his eyes 
 when he found the recurrent Ormsby sitting on his 
 bed. 
 
 * Go away,' Joe said ; ' it's nothing like morning yet.' 
 
 * The blooming bell will ring in half an hour. It's 
 broad daylight.' 
 
 ' I'm not going to waste half an hour. I ache all 
 over.' 
 
 * I came to see,' Ormsby told him. 
 
 There was no escape from such persistence, so Joe 
 asked him why he was still on his hands and knees 
 when Max lit the gas. 
 
 ' I wanted to see the end ; it seemed a bit' rough 
 to leave you to have a single with Max. I was picking 
 up old matches, but he got a few.' 
 
 ' I hope he'll like them,' Joe grunted. 
 
 ' He might ; he's an odd bird. You never know 
 with Max.' 
 
 As Joe did not feel inclined to discuss his house- 
 master at that early hour of the morning, he turned 
 over to see if his other side ached a little less, but 
 Ormsby did not remove himself. 
 
 M should like to see what you look like after last 
 night. Someone rammed his head into my left eye,' 
 he said. 
 
74 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 * I feel like a damaged sausage/ Joe groaned ; 
 and directly afterwards Battersby, Give, and Street 
 poked their heads into his cubicle. 
 
 The wish, indeed, to inspect the results of the 
 engagement was so unanimous that in two minutes 
 all the combatants were standing in the middle of 
 the dormitory. That there was going to be a large 
 list of injuries was very evident, but no one expressed 
 a wish for details until Webster spoke. 
 
 ' Such a fight as this is never likely to happen again,' 
 he said, ' and I vote we examine everyone, and choose 
 some fellow to write down a proper report/ 
 
 ' I know a lot of medical words. My father is a 
 doctor, and my mother a Christian Scientist,' Ark- 
 wright remarked, and evidently meant this to be an 
 application for the post of reporter. 
 
 ' And my governor is a coal-heaver, and my mother 
 a policeman,' Piper sneered, but as no one either 
 laughed at or denied this statement it fell very 
 fiat. 
 
 Arkwright was at once told to get a pencil and a 
 piece of paper, and for the first time Joe saw him 
 really keen on the job he was doing. Webster, Crake, 
 and Battersby appointed themselves inspectors, 
 and in turn the others submitted themselves for ex- 
 amination. When the last boy had been inspected, 
 Arkwright was told to read out his report : 
 
 * Street. — Complained of contusion upon his back, 
 but it was invisible to the naked eye. Some skin 
 missing from left foot, but after close examination it 
 was decided that the patient had been without this 
 portion of cuticle for several days. Rather dis- 
 appointing. 
 
 ' Piper. — Swollen nose. Claimed lump as big as 
 an ^gg on his head, but only pea-size was allowed. 
 Mr. Battersby thought that he had discovered black 
 
CLOSE QUARTERS 7» 
 
 bruise on right cheek, but this yielded quickly to soap 
 and water. 
 
 ' Ormsby. — Left eye very discoloured. Dr. Webster 
 stated that it must have come into contact with some 
 hard object. Cuticle missing from right 3.nkle. 
 Superficial wound on left arm. A bruise, in shape 
 like a map of India, on back — the best bruise that had 
 so far been exhibited. Altogether a most interesting 
 case. 
 
 ' Clive. — Claimed a tooth looser than it had be^n. 
 Offered to prove this by pulling it out at once, but 
 Mr. Battersby (surgeon) stated that such a demon* 
 stration would prove nothing, as no one knew how 
 loose it had been before the engagement. Put iar^ 
 ward a crick in the neck, and a scar which Dr. Webst^ 
 announced to be a birthmark. 
 
 ' Harper. — Complained of general soreness, contused 
 toes, and a bruised shoulder-blade. Was given half 
 marks for his blade, and a special diploma of merit 
 for a big toe. Should be worth looking at when his 
 bruises have had time to develop. 
 
 '■ Clarkson. — -Stated that he had a cut lip and could 
 not speak, and that his funny-bone was broken. 
 Was rebuked by all the doctors for levity. Ofiemd 
 a strained muscle in left wrist as an apology, but the 
 offer was not accepted. Upon investigation it was 
 discovered that his knuckles were sore. Dr. Webster 
 prescribed leeches. 
 
 * Rumhold. — Jumped about when proded ; promises 
 to be worthy of attention in a few days. Claimed 
 mark for footprint of Max, but although Mr. Battersby 
 thought that he could see the print, the ph5^icians 
 refused to allow claim. Attempt to claim mark ior 
 jelly-fish feeling also failed. 
 
 ' Arkwright. — Showed his right heel, and pointed 
 out that a heel can be bruised without anyone being 
 
76 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 able to see it. No marks. Offered left ear for inspec- 
 tion with same result. 
 
 ' Cole. — Head very bumpy and swollen ; stated 
 that it was always swollen, with which Dr. Webster 
 promptly agreed. Several pieces of cuticle missing, 
 but the patient declared that they were always 
 missing. Severe buffet on right knee, for which the 
 patient, in spite of protests that this limb was in its 
 normal condition, was given full marks. Mr. Bat- 
 tersby prescribed cold fomentations.' 
 
 After Arkwright had finished reading his report, 
 the inspectors set to work, and rapidly gave each other 
 full marks for very doubtful bumps and bruises. 
 Finally Battersby stated that he was first with six 
 bruises, two disputed bumps and a dent, and as the 
 time had come for the combatants to dress no one 
 troubled to contradict him. 
 
 What, however, had astonished Joe most about the 
 inspection was the spirit in which Arkwright had 
 entered into it. The way in which the reporter had 
 shown that, while nearly everybody was anxious to 
 get as many marks as possible. Cole was determined 
 not to acknowledge that he had suffered at all in the 
 engagement, simply made Joe chuckle as he tried to 
 button his collar. 
 
 But Joe's astonishment at Arkwright's sudden burst 
 into life was far greater than Ormsby's ; for during 
 a portion of every day Ormsby had been quietly 
 giving Arkwright instruction in how to behave at a 
 public school, and however intensely Mrs. Arkwright 
 would have disapproved of these lessons, it must be 
 admitted that her son was beginning to be turned 
 from a puling infant into a more or less normal boy. 
 Another result of these lessons was that Arkwright 
 conceived a great admiration for his instructor. But 
 to worship Ormsby was a difficult task, because he 
 
CLOSE QUARTERS 77 
 
 would not sit quietly on his pedestal and be properly 
 adored. • v^f 
 
 ' There's a lot to be done yet/ Ormsby said, when at 
 breakfast Joe mentioned his surprise. *He has lapses 
 about twice a day. Forgets where he is and that 
 kind of thing. But he's coming on. Just look at 
 the fellows in our dormitory ! They look more like 
 the crew of a wrecked ship than the heroes of a fight. 
 And Fm bothered if I can see anything out of one 
 eye.' 
 
 The next moment Max descended upon the junior 
 table, and told Battersby, Crake, and Webster to come 
 and see him as soon as they had finished breakfast. 
 
 ' That can't mean a licking,' Battersby said ; * but 
 he's not in a good temper.' 
 
 Unless appearances were very deceptive, Mr. 
 Lomax was certainly not in a good temper. He was, 
 in fact, in his most restless and curt mood, and jumped 
 about the hall, pouncing upon fellows, and saying 
 ' What ? ' so snappishly when they did not under- 
 stand his orders, that Ormsby said that it sounded 
 like a succession of pistol-shots ; but he added : 
 * I shouldn't wonder if he thinks that we are all bat- 
 tered enough already. It's the kind of sporting thing 
 which might appeal to him.' 
 
 ' Sporting ! ' Joe exclaimed scornfully, and felt a 
 lump on his knee, which seemed to be getting lumpier 
 every time he felt it. 
 
 ' You've got to call it something, and " spoi'tijig '* 
 means most things. The best of a gigantic row is 
 that it clears the air. If I was a housemaster, I 
 should tell my house to have a regular bust-up every 
 fortnight,' Ormsby continued. 
 
 ' Then,' said Street from the other side of the table, 
 'I'm thundering glad you are not Max. As it is I 
 believe I have got water on the knee, and my ribs 
 
78 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 feel as if they had all been knocked into places which 
 are too big to hold them. It is absolutely the limit 
 to know that you have got ribs/ 
 
 ' I expect what you have got/ Ormsby told him, 
 ' are just growing-pains. Whatever happened to us 
 at our last place was always a growing pain, unless 
 you could show them a rash.' 
 
 ' The trouble with my pain is that it keeps on grow- 
 ing, and if by any chance I should have to go up a 
 place or two in class I shall be too stiff to move/ 
 Street returned, and smiled placidly into his plate. 
 
 As Joe and Ormsby's room was nearest to the hall, 
 it was shortly afterwards full of fellows waiting for 
 the inspectors to return from interviewing Max. 
 
 So far Ormsby had got no further than talking 
 about his ' scheme,' and the only additions that had 
 been made to the room were two comfortable chairs 
 and a few absolute necessities. Piper's criticisms 
 of the furniture— or rather the lack of it- — ^were pun- 
 gent and rude, but in the general gabble they passed 
 unnoticed, or at any rate unanswered. 
 
 Long before they were expected the trio returned, 
 Battersby laughing. Crake trying to look important, 
 and Webster succeeding in looking glum. In re- 
 sponse to a fusillade of questions, Battersby answered 
 that everyone in the dormitory had to learn the first 
 thirty lines of the First Book of Virgil. 
 
 ' I didn't understand that,' Crake said at once. 
 * I thought he said if it ever occurred again, we should 
 have to learn something. What do you think, 
 Webster ? ' 
 
 ' He snapped out things at such a pace, I don't 
 know what he said. He looked as if he was giving 
 us something, but I don't know what it was, and I 
 never heard anything about Virgil,' Webster re- 
 plied. 
 
CLOSE QUARTERS 79 
 
 ' More did I. I'll bet he gave us nothing/ Crake 
 said. 
 
 ' Well, I'll bet he did give us something/ Battersby 
 declared, ' and Fll tell you when he did it. It was 
 just after he tripped over the rug and nearly fell on 
 his nose.' 
 
 ' Perhaps he was speaking to the rug/ Street sug- 
 gested ; but no one took any notice of such a frivolous 
 suggestion, for there seemed to be a general feeling 
 that definite information about Max's intentions 
 ought to be obtained. 
 
 ' All three of you ought to go and have another 
 shot at him,' Piper said. ' We can't be expected to 
 learn '' rep " on the chance of Max being kind enough 
 to hear it.' 
 
 ' ril toss odd man out to see who goes back/ Bat- 
 tersby said. 
 
 ' I'm absolutely sure ' Crake began, but he was 
 
 howled down. Battersby's oifer appealed urgently 
 to the meeting. 
 
 ' Does the odd man go ? ' Webster asked. 
 
 It was agreed that this should be the fate of the 
 odd man, and directly afterwards Webster turned up 
 a tail, while Crake and Battersby turned up heads. 
 
 ' Well, I suppose I've got to do it,' he said ; * but I 
 don't believe I shall come out alive.' 
 
 He went off in anything but a hopeful spirit, and in 
 a very few minutes returned looking more dejected 
 than ever. 
 
 ' Who was right ? ' Battersby asked, and seemed to 
 be more inclined to learn ' rep ' than to be wrong. 
 
 ' When I went in I felt sure we hadn't to learn 
 anything, but now I'm bothered if I know. And the 
 worst of it is that he was in such a bait that I told him 
 I understood what he had been saying. But I never 
 understood a word from start to finish/ 
 
8o A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 * But are we to learn any " rep " ? ' was the general 
 question. 
 
 * I don't know ; you must please yourselves,' 
 Webster replied ; and then just as he was leaving the 
 room, he added : 'I can tell you one thing, if we have 
 to learn anything, it's Horace, and not Virgil. I 
 thought he said something about Horace, but Tm 
 not sure.* 
 
 ' Good egg ! ' Ormsby exclaimed ; * no one but a 
 raving lunatic can expect us to learn about a million 
 lines of old Virgil and Horace on the chance of hitting 
 the right bit.' 
 
 And with this they most fortunately left their 
 punishment to look after itself, for Max never referred 
 to it again. 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 A WORK OF ART 
 
 During Joe's early days at Granby, Mrs. Rumbold 
 frequently looked at a letter which she had received 
 from Mr. Malcolm during the last holidays., Mr. 
 Malcolm was the man who had been referred to con- 
 temptuously* by Mr. Lomax, but if he had not paid 
 very much attention to Joe's muscles, he had tried 
 to train his mind. And, although Mr. Rumbold 
 had spoken of this letter as * Bosh,' it was at once 
 the most pleasing and the most perplexing testimonial 
 Mrs. Rumbold had ever received of any of her sons. 
 
 * Dear Mrs. Rumbold ' (Mr. Malcolm had written), 
 — * It was very kind of you to thank me for anything 
 we may have done here for Joe. I am very sincerely 
 sorry to lose him, for in an exceptionally unostenta- 
 tious way he has been of great service to the school. 
 It always seems to me an impertinence to point out to 
 parents the chief characteristics and qualities of their 
 children, but it is also an impertinence which some 
 parents insist upon, and you will forgive me if I am 
 offending. Joe's chief fault, then, seems to me a 
 fixed intention not to take his proper position. He 
 seems to have a natural repugnance against taking the 
 lead. This does not come from a lack of will-power, 
 because he can be absolutely determined, and even 
 obstinate, when his mind is made up ; nor does it 
 
 81 
 
82 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 come from slackness ; but it does come, I think, 
 from a modesty which is neither normal nor thoroughly 
 wholesome. He wants, I am sure, to conquer that at 
 Granby. For the rest I have nothing but praise ; 
 if it had been necessary, I am sure that he would have 
 stood a very good chance of a scholarship at any 
 public school, for he is really interested in and lives 
 in his work. Accuracy is not, perhaps, his strongest 
 point, but it is delightful to teach a boy who does 
 not regard his classics as dull, dead things, and who 
 has real humour and imagination. In respect to his 
 school-work I am sure that you need have no fear that 
 he will do extremely well.' 
 
 Mr. Malcolm's opinion, Mrs. Rumbold knew, was 
 thoroughly honest and trustworthy, but, in spite of 
 the pleasure it gave her, she recognized that * humour 
 and imagination ' were not altogether the qualities 
 which the Rumbolds were inclined to admire, 
 'And, having read this letter once again, she turned 
 to one she had received from Joe. ' I was top the 
 first week, pretty easily top,' he said ; * but Ormsby 
 could lick my head off if he cared to try. He knows 
 the oddest sort of things, but he is a real good sort 
 when you get used to him. Arkwright hasn't blubbed 
 much, but he blubs very easily, not so easily as he 
 did. I've played footer two or three times, but am 
 fairly hopeless, though one fellow called Rose keeps 
 on saying I am awfully good. I can't stand Rose. 
 Max is cracked on muscles, and my body disappointed 
 him a lot ; Mrs. Max is most frightfully decent ; and 
 Mr. Ridley, our class-master, is all right.' 
 
 Never before, as far as Mrs. Rumbold knew, had 
 any of her sons been top of a form for a single week. 
 Pads certainly had brought home a prize for mechan- 
 ics, but he had explained this by sa3dng that there 
 were only five fellows in the class, and that three of 
 
A WORK OF ART 83 
 
 them had been absent during most of the term. A 
 prize for anything but athletics required, so Mrs. 
 Rumbold had thought, some explaining away at 
 Maiden Croft. 
 
 Near as Joe and his mother were to one another 
 in many ways, she had always found it impossible 
 to get him to talk of himself, and when she had tried 
 to talk to him of himself he had invariably tried to 
 stop her by every imaginable trick. In some ex- 
 traordinary way he seemed to be utterly uninterested 
 in his own affairs. Once, and once only, before he 
 had gone to Granby, had he spoken to her of his home, 
 and then he had said that he was a round peg in a 
 square hole. If he had been in the habit of complain- 
 ing, she would have been relieved ; but he was just 
 silent, rather lonely, but not unhappy, and under 
 pressure ready to fight for his freedom against his 
 brothers. 
 
 ' My body disappointed him a lot,' Mrs. Rumbold 
 repeated, and could not help smiling. It was so 
 extraordinarily characteristic of Mr. Lomax that the 
 first disappointment he expressed about a Rumbold 
 , should refer to the ' body.' Frequently Mrs. Rumbold 
 had noticed in the school-lists that her sons' ages had 
 been far above the average age of their classes, but 
 at that Mr. Lomax had never complained. It seemed 
 to her that he took it for granted that her sons must 
 be fine athletes and poor scholars, and she feared 
 with a whole heart that he would never understand 
 Joe, nor Joe him. 
 
 But there was nothing for her to do at present ; 
 she must just watch and try to help if help was needed, 
 and at any rate she had the consolation of knowing 
 that Joe thought his class-master ' all right.' 
 
 It was as well that Joe had written that opinion of 
 Mr. Ridley, for on the morning following the battle 
 
84 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 of the dormitory he had some reason to doubt whether 
 his class-master was 'all right.' The class were * up ' 
 for repetition, and Buckle, who wanted to be a wag 
 and did not know how to be, was put on first, and 
 tried to look as if his memory had suddenly van- 
 ished, but that it would return if only he was given- a 
 rhance. 
 
 ' That fellow was put on last time, and never ex- 
 pected to be stuck on again to-day. He doesn't know 
 a word of it,' Ormsby whispered to Joe, who was next 
 to him. 
 
 And Joe, with his eyes on Mr. Ridley, whispered 
 back : * Shut up ; Buckle's making him baity.' 
 
 This would have stopped most fellows, but it only 
 made Ormsby look at Buckle, and then chuckle. 
 
 ' Non,' Buckle was saying, and then, not caring 
 to risk much, he repeated it. • 
 
 ' He's clinging to old " non " as if it was a blooming 
 life-belt,' Ormsby informed Joe, and Mr. Ridley nearl}/ 
 turned upon them. 
 
 ' Non,' Buckle said for about the sixth time, and 
 at last, thinking the time had come when he must 
 leave safety, he added ' sequitur.' 
 
 * That's perfectly true and quite incorrect,' Mr. Rid- 
 ley said, but as he often made remarks of that kind. 
 Buckle only thought that his luck was better than 
 usual. 
 
 ' Non sequitur,' he continued, and thought of drop- 
 ping his handkerchief in the hope that as he picked 
 it up someone might tell him another word. 
 
 ' Perhaps it's my eye being nearly bunged up, but 
 Buckle looks to me just like a bottle-nosed baboon ; 
 do you see what I mean ? ' Ormsby continued. 
 
 ' More like a kangaroo with a false nose,' Joe whis- 
 pered back. 
 1 And Mr. Ridley, without so much as a glance in 
 
A WORK OF ART 8^ 
 
 his direction, said : ' Rumbold, you are talking in- 
 cessantly ; come and speak to me at twelve o'clock.' 
 
 Silly ass/ Joe muttered too loudly ; ' anyone 
 might have seen he was ready to jump.' 
 
 Immediately afterwards Mr. Ridley also jumped 
 upon Buckle, who retired to the bottom with im- 
 positions thick upon him, and this was the prelude 
 to a very stormy morning. No one seemed able to 
 satisfy the class-master, and the climax was reached 
 when Masterman, who crumpled up like a rose-leaf 
 when he was even looked at, was told that a well- 
 trained parrot could talk better Latin prose than he 
 wrote. 
 
 Altogether Joe had a fresh experience of Mr. Ridley 
 during those few hours, and at twelve o'clock he ap- 
 proached him with confidence sadly shaken. For a 
 moment Joe was looked at as if he had no right to 
 be near the desk, and then he noticed that one side 
 of Mr. Ridley's cheek was considerably bigger than 
 the other side. 
 
 ' Oh, you were talking ; then don't talk again,' 
 Mr. Ridley said, and began to collect some papers. 
 
 Joe turned away from the desk, wondering whether 
 such an all-powerful man could possibly be suffering 
 from toothache — a complaint which he had often 
 heard his father say was reserved for babies who ate 
 sweets ; but as he turned he saw Ormsby marching 
 towards him. 
 
 * What's up now ? ' he asked him. But Ormsby 
 strode past with a resolute face— and Joe groaned. 
 It was useless to ask what was * up,' for that ex- 
 pression undoubtedly meant a relief expedition. 
 The trouble with Ormsby was that he insisted 
 upon relieving people who were not in need of 
 relief. 
 
 'When,' he said, as soon as he had got within word- 
 
«t6 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 fire of the desk, * you told Rumbold that he was 
 talking, sir, he wouldn't have talked if I hadn't 
 asked him questions/ 
 
 Mr. Ridley looked as if he was trying to remember 
 something, and then clapped a hand over his swollen 
 cheek. 
 
 * Was it you,' he asked, ' who was foolish enough 
 to call me a " silly ass '' ? ' 
 
 After this question Joe began to hurry away, but 
 before his retreat had become a rout he was called 
 
 Silence reigned around the desk, because Ormsby 
 could not say ' Yes,' and did not want to say ' No/ 
 He was, indeed, at a loss for words, which was a record 
 of a kind, although Joe was in no mood to appreci- 
 ate it. 
 
 ' Don't you think, sir,' he said eventually, * that 
 Rumbold may have meant me ? ' 
 .[.* Rumbold is here to answer that/ 
 
 ' I did mean Ormsby, sir,' Joe annouuced. 
 
 ' Then you can both go,' Mr. Ridley said. 
 
 * But— — ' Ormsby began. 
 
 'Go away, or I shall bump your heads together.' 
 
 ' Sir— — ' Ormsby began again. 
 
 ' Go, I tell you/ Mr. Ridley roared, and at last 
 Ormsby was persuaded to retire. 
 
 ' He's gone clean mad ; ought we to leave him ? ' 
 he said to Joe, when they were safely in the quad- 
 rangle. 
 
 ' What's wrong with him is raging " toothers " ; 
 one side of his face looks like an apple-dumpling. ' 
 
 ' But how could we see that if he kept a great fist 
 over it ? I know the very thing for him : it's called 
 " Sooval," and it burns like fury. I shall take him 
 a bottle this afternoon.' 
 
 ' He'll throw the bottle at your bead, and probably 
 
A WORK OF ART 87 
 
 hit mine. The thing to do with a toothachy chap 
 is to leave him alone. You're so precious busy/ 
 Joe told him. 
 
 * I'm bothered if you haven't got " toothers " or 
 something,' Ormsby replied, and turned abruptly 
 into a lane which skirted several of the boarding- 
 houses, and at the bottom of which stood a man with 
 a basket of what William Rumbold called ' Indi- 
 gestibilities.' 
 
 This man, familiarly known to hundreds of Gran- 
 beians as Billy the Blighter, was an institution. He 
 had stood at the bottom of the lane for twenty-seven 
 years, and remained until it was discovered that his 
 interest in horse-racing was too infectious, 
 
 Joe had practically decided to interview Billy, 
 but Ormsby's sudden departure upset his plans. 
 So, unfed and alone, he went back to the house, and 
 met Cole in the passage. 
 
 ' I suppose you'll learn Max's stuff,' Cole said. 
 
 * What stuff ? ' Joe asked. 
 
 * Why, Max's stuff of course.' 
 
 * And why should you suppose I shall learn it ? ' 
 
 * Because it's the sort of thing you would do.' 
 ' Is it ? ' 
 
 * Yes, it is.' 
 
 At this moment Rose passed through the passage, 
 and told Joe that he wanted to speak to him ; but 
 Joe did not move. 
 
 ' They'll put you in the first fifteen between them/ 
 Cole sneered. 
 
 ' I wonder,' said Joe slowly, * why you try to make 
 yourself such an awful beast. Do you happen to 
 want to fight ? ' 
 
 * Fight you ! I could put you in my pocket.' 
 ' Try,' Joe said. 
 
 * And get licked by Palmer and Rose for touching 
 
88 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 a; Rumbold. Not good enough/ Cole replied ; ' you'd 
 better go and see Rose/ 
 
 ' Vm. not going to see Rose/ 
 
 ' Such a swell that you don't obey prefects/ Cole 
 continued. 
 
 And then Joe hit him. 
 
 There were no spectators to witness the struggle 
 that followed, and it was as well for Joe that there 
 were none ; for, however plucky his attack was, he 
 did not succeed in injuring Cole ; and the latter, 
 either from discretion or pity, certainly did not try 
 to hurt him. For two or three minutes Joe battered 
 furiously against what was to all intents and pur- 
 poses a human mountain, and merely received some 
 pushes in return. And then the ridiculousness of 
 trying to hurt Cole occurred to him, and also the 
 ignominy of being treated in such a way. 
 
 * It's no use ; you're too big,' he said. 
 
 ' I thought you'd find that out,' Cole replied. 
 
 ' All the same,' Joe continued, and swallowed his 
 pride, * it was rather decent of you not to. half-kill 
 me.* 
 
 ' Not worth it,' Cole sneered, and Joe's wrath rose 
 again. 
 
 * Perhaps some day it may be worth it,' he said. 
 'I'll let you know when you're worth fighting,' 
 
 Cole told him. 
 
 Then Joe went back to his room, and wondered 
 what he had better tell Ormsby about this assault 
 upon Cole. It was perfectly certain that as soon as 
 Ormsby heard of it he would attempt to bring things 
 to a head. And in this case his idea, Joe thought, 
 would probably be to express his contempt for Cole 
 in language which would be impossible to misunder- 
 stand. There never was anybody more anxious to 
 bring things to a head than Ormsby ; he had already 
 
A WORK OF ART Sg 
 
 told Joe that it was the natural place for things to be 
 brought to — ^what, in short, things were for. 
 
 Ultimately Joe decided that for the present he would 
 not say anything about this affair ; which was for- 
 tunate, because when Ormsby burst into the room 
 he was far too excited to listen. 
 
 * At last,' he said, ' Fve got it. Can you lend me 
 five-and-six, unless you'd like to be part-owner ? ' 
 
 Joe looked first at Ormsby and then at the parcel 
 in his hand, but before he could reply Ormsby con- 
 tinued, as he cut the string : ' I've been to that musty 
 shop three times. The first time old Wedberg asked 
 me two guineas, and I told him to talk sense. That 
 knocked off two bob. The second time we began 
 at two pounds, and separated at thirty-seven and 
 threepence. That threepence tells you all there is 
 to know about Wedberg. To-day I forgot the three- 
 pence at the start, and we haggled until I got him 
 down to thirty-five and six. Then, though Fd only 
 got thirty bob, I bought it.' 
 
 By this time he was holding his treasure away from 
 him with both hands, and Joe saw that it was a picture. 
 
 * Come and look at it,' he said. 
 
 * Stick it down here,' Joe replied, and pointed to 
 his desk. 
 
 ' You can't see it close to ; you ought really to be 
 half blind to see a thing like this properly,' he re- 
 turned, and objected to the way in which Joe laughed. 
 
 'Did you really give thirty-five bob for this?' 
 Joe asked, when he had inspected it. /; ,.. 
 
 ' And six, and it's jolly cheap. Now I'rh stone- 
 broke, except for a few stamps, three new^p^per- 
 wrappers, and a postcard.' f] ^':>? * 
 
 The picture was a water-colour of the Granby 
 School buildings, with a few trees and a lot of magenta 
 clouds thrown in, and as soon as Joe glanced at it he 
 
90 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 suspected that he was gazing at an old friend. But 
 before he said anything he wanted to be more cer- 
 tain, so he looked in the comer of the masterpiece, 
 and there he discovered what he half wanted and 
 half feared to find. 
 
 * W. R./ he said, and pointed to the initials. 
 
 ^ Yes,' Ormsby replied gaily. * Old Wedberg says 
 it was painted by a German called Wilhelm Rudes- 
 heimer, a fellow who would have made no end of a 
 name, only he died. All good artists die young and 
 become famous afterwards, so Wedberg says. Ever 
 heard of him ? ' 
 
 * No/ Joe answered ; ' but Fve heard of William 
 Rumbold, because he's my cousin.' 
 
 * As far as that goes Fve heard of William Rufus, 
 but unless you had crammed your cousin down my 
 throat I should never have mentioned him. What 
 on earth has your cousin got to do with it ? ' 
 
 * He painted it.' 
 
 ' Rats ! ' Ormsby replied briefly. 
 
 * He painted it,' Joe repeated, ' when he was here, 
 several years ago, and he gave it to Flip, who gave 
 it to Jumpy, and Jumpy gave it to Pads, who gave 
 it to Bingo. Pads left it at home while he owned 
 it, because he doesn't like pictures.' 
 
 * He's got no taste,' Ormsby said, without much 
 conviction. * Bingo brought it back here again, be- 
 cause he said that he might be able to sell it,' Joe 
 continued ; and Ormsby began to look very serious. 
 
 * Do you know any more ? ' he asked, and picked 
 up the paper in which the picture had been packed. 
 
 ' I heard Bingo say this holidays that he had sold 
 it for five shillings, and although he tried to get more, 
 because it had got a frame and was an heirloom, the 
 man declared it wasn't worth eighteen-pence.' 
 
 * The frame's worth ten bob, at least,' Ormsby 
 
A WORK OF ART gi 
 
 s^id, as if he wanted someone to deny it ; and then 
 he added : * You aren't rotting, are you ? ' 
 
 ' No/ Joe an>^wered ; and without another word 
 Ormsby straightened out the paper, and laid the 
 picture upon it. 
 
 ' What are you going to do ? ' Joe asked. 
 
 ' I'm going to pay my fourth and last visit to that 
 Wedberg fellow,' he replied, and having tied up the 
 picture, he put it under his arm. 
 
 ' There are twenty minutes before dinner, ten to 
 get there and back, and ten to make the little swindler'^ 
 hair stand on end, and to get my money out of him,' 
 he continued. 
 
 ' I'll come,' Joe told him. 
 
 ' Good egg ! but his dirty httle shop is out of 
 bounds.' 
 
 * We'll risk it,' Joe said, for he did not mean to miss 
 the next stage in the history of this picture. 
 
 Wedberg's shop was in a httle back street, and was 
 stacked full of apologetic-looking odds and ends. 
 
 A few dilapidated brass candlesticks and a chipped 
 Toby jug were in the window ; but as soon as a cus- 
 tomer entered the door he passed into a gloomy region, 
 in which the light was depressingly dim and the atmos- 
 phere peculiarly musty. 
 
 Joe looked round the shop, while Ormsby untied 
 the parcel and kicked hard upon the counter until 
 Mr. Wedberg appeared. 
 
 * I've brought back your picture, and I want my 
 money : I've discovered that I like my money better 
 than your picture,' Ormsby said, and handed over 
 the parcel for Wedberg to take. 
 
 But the former owner would have none of it. 
 ' Ach ! ' he exclaimed ; * but a thale's a thale.' 
 ' You told me lies. Hand over my thirty bob, 
 and I'll say no more about it,' Ormsby told him. 
 
92 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 ' I thay to you, no, my good boy. A thale's a 
 thale, I thay nothing else/ 
 
 ' And a swindle's a swindle,' Ormsby declared ; 
 ' and unless you give me back my thirty bob, Fll 
 take something for my money. Ill pocket every- 
 thing small enough, and I'll smash whatever I can't 
 pocket. You won't dare to stop me, because you've 
 told me lies ; ' and he kicked the counter so hard 
 that he hurt his toes. 
 
 * Thery thoon I fetch a policeman ; I thay no lies 
 to you. My dinner 'e waits for me.' 
 
 * Look here, Mr. Wedberg,' Joe began, as Ormsby 
 turned towards the window, ' I know all about that 
 picture.' 
 
 ' It is a thery beautiful picther/ Wedberg inter- 
 rupted, * Wilhelm Rudesheimer ' 
 
 * Oh, stow Rudesheimer ! ' Joe shouted, and pro- 
 ceeded to give his history of the picture, while Wed- 
 berg at the same time gave his. When the clamour 
 had abated, Joe looked round, and saw that Ormsby 
 had collected a large heap of miscellaneous rubbish, 
 and the sight of all these battered and useless things 
 made Joe excessively anxious to avoid having them 
 in his room. 
 
 Mr. Wedberg had already been reduced to guttural 
 exclamations and much brandishing of his arms, 
 but as he showed no sign of producing any money 
 Joe again addressed him, and Ormsby continued to 
 add to his collection. 
 
 * No thenth, no thenth whatever ! You tell me I 
 tell you lies ; I tell you you tell me lies,' Wedberg 
 kept on saying ; but when Joe finally offered to give 
 him ten shillings for the picture, he was so anxious 
 to get back to his dinner and to get rid of the indus- 
 trious Ormsby, that he accepted the offer. 
 
 Slowly he counted out twenty separate shilUngs, 
 
A WORK OF ART 93 
 
 and when he handed them over, he said : * Let me not 
 thee you inthide 'ere again. A thale's a thale/ 
 
 Without any delay Joe picked up the picture, and 
 hurried down the street. -r^ 
 
 ' Why the dickens did you give him ten bob for it ? * 
 Ormsby asked. 
 
 'Why did you give him thirty?' Joe not un- 
 naturally replied. 
 
 ' It was a good picture then, but now we know it 
 isn't. I don't see what we are to do with it.' 
 
 * We might send it to the man who painted it,' 
 Joe suggested. 
 
 ' And serve him jolly well right ! We'll send it ' 
 
 They were turning a corner as Ormsby was sen- 
 tencing William Rumbold, and on the other side of 
 the street Mr. Lomax was engaged in talking to two 
 ladies. . He was not, however, engaged enough to 
 miss seeing Ormsby and Joe, and before they had 
 advanced fifty yards he had caught them up. 
 
 ' What are you doing out of bounds ? ' he asked, 
 and it was a peculiarly annoying question, for the fact 
 was that as soon as they had turned the corner they 
 were once more in bounds. This, however, was a 
 fact which neither of the culprits thought prudent to 
 mention, and as Max did not receive an answer to 
 his first question, he promptly asked them another. 
 
 'What's that? Something disreputable, for cer- 
 tain,' he said, and snatched at the cause of the trouble, 
 which Joe now had the privilege to carry. 
 
 In their haste the heirloom had not been properly 
 tied up, and when Mr. Lomax seized it, th« paper 
 came off and floated wantonly down the street. In 
 all its beauty (or the reverse) the picture was re- 
 vealed for any passer-by to admire or condemn. 
 
 For quite a minute Mr. Lomax tried to look as if 
 he was tr^dng to find something * disreputable ' in 
 
94 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 it, and Joe doubted if his purchase had ever before 
 received so much attention. But Mr. Lomax's ex- 
 pression did not soften as he gazed at it, and, happily, 
 his first remark was not made in the presence of the 
 painter. 
 
 ' Where did you buy this atrocious caricature of 
 Granby ? ' he asked. 
 
 Joe told him. 
 
 * How much did you pay for it ? ' 
 
 Again Joe supplied the information required. 
 
 * Then take it back to the shop and tell the man 
 he is to give you back your money. Tell him that 
 your housemaster refuses to allow anything so hideous 
 in any of his rooms.' 
 
 At this point Joe knew — from gurgles— that Ormsby 
 was temporarily put out of action by hopeless laughter, 
 so he endeavoured to appease Mr. Lomax's wrath by 
 the only means he could think of. 
 
 ' A relation painted it, sir, and that's why I bought 
 it,' he said. 
 
 ' A relation — a Rumbold painted that ! ' Mr. Lcmax 
 exclaimed, and it was characteristic of him to forget 
 that Joe might very possibly have relations who were 
 not Rumbolds. 
 
 ' Yes, sir,' Joe told him. 
 
 * Do you mean to tell me that one of your brothers 
 can paint ? ' 
 
 ' No, sir ; my cousin, William Rumbold, painted 
 it.' 
 
 ' Oh, WiUiam Rumbold ! He might do anything,' 
 Mr. Lomax said, and seemed to be much re- 
 lieved. 
 
 By this time they were walking towards the house, 
 and after Mr. Lomax had handed back the picture, 
 he looked at his watch. 
 
 ' You have both been out of bounds, and you are 
 
A WORK OF ART 95 
 
 already twelve minutes late for dinner. I shall see 
 you this evening/ 
 
 ' It's all my fault again/ Ormsby said, when Max 
 had left them, ' and I'm sorry I couldn't help laugh- 
 ing. The least I can do is to give you the picture.' 
 
 ' But we have got to take it back,' Joe said, and 
 laughed until tears rolled down his cheeks. 
 
 ' Not a bit of it ! It's become valuable again now 
 Max says we aren't to have it. We'd better go in 
 to dinner.' 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 
 MAX THE INSCRUTABLE 
 
 Ormsby was never a martyr to melancholia ; but 
 good as his spirits almost invariably were, they were 
 never better than when the outlook was cloudy and 
 * things were going to happen/ Without exaggera- 
 tion, it may be stated that he honestly looked forward 
 to his interview with Max, and when Joe and he had 
 come back from afternoon school he said so. 
 
 * I can't stand the man ; he gives me the jumps,' 
 Joe replied. 
 
 ' I shouldn't be sure about that, if I were you,* 
 Ormsby said quite seriously. * I don't believe he's 
 the sort of man to fall on the neck of a fellow who 
 doesn't like him.' 
 
 * I don't want him to fall on my neck,' Joe declared. 
 ' When Max falls, I should say he'd fall pretty 
 
 heavily, and I'd rather he fell on my neck than any- 
 where else,' Ormsby returned. 
 
 ' Do you like him ? ' 
 
 / He has his points, but they are jutty. If you 
 could get him down and sit on him, I shouldn't wonder 
 if you found him quite a decent sort underneath. 
 He ought to be tethered so that we could all stand 
 round and look at him, but even then his mind would 
 be skipping and jumping about all the time. I think 
 I shall write the Life of Max. He ought to send for 
 
 96 
 
MAX THE INSCRUTABLE 97 
 
 lis in about five minutes. I might get a whole chapter 
 out of this, if we can only remember it.' 
 ' We are more likely to feel it,' Joe said. 
 
 * You want cheering up. Have some chocolate 
 cake ? ' Ormsby suggested. 
 
 Joe approved of this remedy, and was still apply- 
 ing it when Steel — Mr. Lomax's butler — knocked 
 apologetically upon the door. 
 
 ' Mr. Lomax would like to see Mr. Rumbold,' he 
 said. 
 
 * And me,' Ormsby added, and jumped up at once 
 from his chair. Joe's mouth was too full of remedies 
 for him to speak. 
 
 'I have no orders concerning you, Mr. Ormsby,' 
 Steel replied, and stroked his side whiskers. 
 
 ' Pull yourself together and think a bit^ You'll 
 remember Mr. Lomax wants me badly,' Ormsby 
 told him. 
 
 * Not so far as my orders go, and I should advise 
 Mr. Rumbold not to keep Mr. Lomax waiting,' was 
 the reply. 
 
 ' It will be your turn afterwards,' Joe said, by way 
 of encouraging the disappointed Ormsby. 
 
 * It won't be half such sport going alone,' the latter 
 complained, and started to accompany Joe on his 
 way. Indeed, had it not been for Steel's absolute 
 refusal to allow Ormsby to go any farther than the 
 hall, Joe would not have arrived by himself in Mr. 
 Lomax's study. 
 
 Joe found his housemaster standing with his back 
 to the fire, and with his legs stretched far and wide. 
 
 ' Sit down,' Mr. Lomax said, and pointed to a chair 
 which was directly in front of him. Then he stared 
 hard at Joe, and the latter had time to realize in 
 what an extremely uncomfortable position he was 
 placed. 
 
 4 
 
98 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 To begin with, he had no table under which he could 
 place his legs ; the chair was, as it were, an island 
 unsurrounded by furniture, and every time he fid- 
 geted his fidgets could be seen. Then he was sitting 
 down, while Mr. Lomax was standing up— a supremely 
 disconcerting state of affairs. In all the illustrations 
 which Joe had seen of a boy being interviewed by a 
 master, the boy was standing up and the master sitting 
 down. 
 
 Something went very wrong with the start of this 
 interview ; in fact, for an appreciable time it did not 
 start at all. During this aeon Mr. Lomax looked at 
 Joe, and the latter looked anywhere — at Max, at the 
 windows, to both sides of his chair to see if by any 
 chance he could shuffle to a less isolated spot. And 
 when his housemaster broke the silence, he did not 
 really say anything. 
 
 ' Well,' was his first word ; but although Joe could 
 not reply to it, he greeted it with relief, and tried 
 to brace himself for the approaching combat. But 
 in his wildest dreams he had not anticipated what was 
 coming. 
 
 ' I have/ Max continued, ' known your brothers 
 thoroughly, and I can safely say that I have never 
 been so angry with any of them as I was with you 
 when you kicked at me. You were in considerable 
 danger of being severely hurt.' 
 
 Joe's panic must be held partly accountable for 
 the fact that he missed the right reply to this opening. 
 He ought, as he acknowledged to Ormsby afterwards, 
 to have thanked Max warmly for not hurting him. 
 What, however, he did say was : ' I did get hurt ; 
 I still ache in places.' 
 
 ' And I am exceedingly glad to hear it,' Mr. Lomax 
 added immediately. As regards sympathy, it was 
 evident to Joe that he had drawn blank, but before 
 
MAX THE INSCRUTABLE 99 
 
 he could do more than feel one of his bruises Max 
 was talking again, and an entirely fresh trouble had 
 appeared upon the horizon. 
 
 ' Of the noise in your dormitory I am not going to 
 speak now ; there is something far more serious be- 
 tween you and me than a ridiculous ebullition of animal 
 spirits/ he said, and as he spoke his eyebrows twitched 
 most bewilderingl}^ 
 
 Joe sought eagerly to think of any serious offence 
 that he had committed, and his search brought him 
 to the picture which was in his study. Of course the 
 picture, he tried to persuade himself, must be the 
 trouble, and yet Max was making such a mystery of 
 the affair that Joe was not by any means sure. 
 
 Slowly Mr. Lomax abandoned his straddling atti- 
 tude, and, having rearranged himself, he put his hand 
 into a waistcoat pocket and produced a match. 
 
 This he held up in front of him so that Joe could 
 not help seeing it, but to volunteer any information 
 was not the game between master and boy as he under- 
 stood it. Besides, how, he asked himself, was he to 
 know that this match had ever belonged to him ? 
 And, even supposing that it had, how was he to ex- 
 plain the reason why matches were lying about in 
 the dormitory ? 
 
 The situation was undoubtedly unpleasant, and was 
 not made less so by the constant twitching of Max's 
 eyebrows ; but all the same Joe deemed that to show 
 any marked interest in this match would be a mistake. 
 So he tried to look as if this sudden appearance had 
 nothing whatever to do with him. 
 
 ' I advise you,' Mr. Lomax said, ' to make a clean 
 breast of it. I want to hear the truth.' 
 
 Many boys have listened to such a remark, and have 
 resented it. Mr. Lomax assumed that even if Joe 
 spoke the truth he would find it difficult to do so, 
 
100 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 and this unfair assumption stirred Joe's temper, and 
 gave him courage to face his fate. 
 
 * What do you want to know, sir ? ' he asked. 
 
 At this question Mr. Lomax looked indignant and 
 a Httle surprised, but to give a history of that match 
 until he was obliged was not a part of Joe's programme. 
 
 * I want you of your own accord to make a clean 
 breast of it. Then I hope to make you see that you 
 have disgraced your name,' Mr. Lomax told him. 
 
 They were getting on, Joe thought — slowly, it was 
 true, but still progressing. For he knew now that he 
 was expected to make a confession extensive enough 
 to disgrace the name of Rumbold. The difficulty 
 of having nothing important to confess remained, 
 but he resolutely determined to do his best. 
 
 * Do you mean, sir, that the match in your hand 
 once belonged to me ?' he asked. 
 
 ' I mean a good deal more than that. I advise you 
 to be careful, and not to keep anything back,' was the 
 reply. 
 
 He was, Joe considered, more than a little hard to 
 please, for, after all, one wooden match was very like 
 another, and this might possibly have belonged to 
 someone else. If, however, nothing was to be kept 
 back, the best thing to do was to empty his pockets. 
 So, still continuing his policy of peace, Joe produced 
 his box of matches, and got up to hand it to Mr. 
 Lomax. 
 
 But this movement was nipped in its earliest bud. 
 
 * Remain seated,' Mr. Lomax commanded, with a 
 wave of his matchless— if it may be so described — 
 hand. 
 
 Joe sat down again abruptly, and, being utterly 
 unable to think of anything else to do, he began to 
 talk. 
 
 * I am sorry, sir, that you found some matches lying 
 
MAX THE INSCRUTABLE loi 
 
 about in our dormitory ; the reason was that we were 
 looking for a collar-stud. They were my matches, 
 but I did not know that there was a rule against having 
 them, and until we have electric light ifx om* rooms 1 
 don't see how we can do without them/ 
 
 The reference to electric light was a venture, because 
 Temperley had said that it was always coming, and 
 never came. But, with Mr. Lomax's eyes fixed upon 
 him, Joe could not make a fine choice between what 
 to say and what to omit. 
 
 ' Matches are not forbidden,* Max returned, and as 
 far as Joe could see the trouble was ended. It was true 
 that his housemaster still looked more bellicose than 
 peaceable, but the fact remained that Joe had made 
 * a clean breast of it.' Such a clean breast, indeed, 
 that not a single particle was left upon it. 
 
 ' Now kindly continue,' Max added, as Joe sat and 
 wondered. 
 
 ' I can't think of anything more to say,' was the 
 answer. 
 
 ' Why do you always carry matches about with 
 you ? You do not need them in your dormitory.' 
 
 Joe sprung to attention at once, and poured forth 
 his tale about the shilling, the knife, and the piece 
 of string. But the reception given to the tale was, 
 to say the least of it, chilly. 
 
 ' Where is your piece of string ? ' Max asked. 
 
 ' Here is my knife,' Joe repKed ; * I've given up the 
 piece of string because I thought it stupid.' 
 
 ' No more stupid than your story,' Max retorted 
 with uncommon vigour. ' I will give you one more 
 chance out of respect for your father and brothers.' 
 
 Most people, presumably, are glad to be given 
 another chance, but, all the same, it is a present that 
 may have considerable drawbacks attached to it. In 
 Jo6's case he had not the smallest idea what to do with 
 
102 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 it, so he pondered over this gift until Max disturbed 
 his meditation. 
 
 ' Are you going to tell me the truth, or must I tell 
 it to you ? ' he demanded. 
 
 ' I have told you the truth about the matches ; if 
 tt is the picture-^ — ' 
 
 ' That daiib ! ' Max interrupted ; ' but you remind 
 me of William Rumbold in the way you refuse to be 
 straightforward. ' 
 
 The sudden attack upon his cousin thoroughly 
 astonished Joe, for of all the aggressively straight- 
 forward people in the world William Rumbold stood 
 among the first and foremost. Even Mr. Rumbold, 
 who was perpetually annoyed by William, had often 
 said of him : * Whatever he is — and he's a crank and 
 a family nuisance — I admit that he is honest.' 
 
 Such an admission was in its way a very handsome 
 testimonial, and, though surprised, Joe was not in 
 the least troubled by his straightforwardness being 
 likened to his cousin's. In fact, he did not believe 
 that his honesty was anything like as great as the 
 family nuisance's, for so weary was he of this pro- 
 longed interview that, had he known what his sin was 
 supposed to be, he was almost ready to admit it for 
 the sake of peace. 
 
 When, however, he was at last charged with it, his 
 denial was prompt and emphatic. 
 
 * I will give you one more minute,' Mr. Lomax 
 said. 
 
 ' It's no use, sir, because I can't think of anything 
 else,' Joe replied ; but nevertheless he was given a 
 long minute before Max addressed him. 
 
 ' You smoke,' he said. 
 
 * I don't,' Joe replied so quickly that had not Max 
 lost his patience he must have guessed that this answer 
 was the precise truth. 
 
MAX THE INSCRUTABLE 103 
 
 ' It is no use to deny it, for I have proofs on this 
 manteipiece>' said Mr. Lomax, and jerked his head. 
 
 ' I do deny it, because it is not true,' Joe returned, 
 and his temper accompanied Max's to the place where 
 lost tempers are stored. 
 
 ' Perhaps you will also deny that this is yours,' 
 Max said, and picked up one of those small leather 
 cases which hold a lot of convenient— and inconvenient 
 — things. 
 
 ' No, sir ; that is mine/ Joe said, and felt very much 
 inclined to ask him what he was doing with it. 
 
 ' And you still deny that vou smoke ? ' 
 
 ' Yes.' 
 
 * Then look at this.' 
 
 Joe got up, and, having inspected the case as Max 
 held it open in his hand, he was amazed to see a lot 
 of penny stamps, a postal order, some postcards, a 
 photograph of his brothers, and two rather battered- 
 looking cigarettes. Until that moment he had not 
 suspected that he was so rich, but pleasant as it was 
 to find this wealth, he also had a disquieting feeling 
 that Max was too angry to believe the explanation 
 of it. 
 
 * What have you got to say to theSe ? ' Mr* Lomax 
 asked, and pointed to the cigarettes. 
 
 Joe waited for a few seconds to prepare his defence, 
 and by the delay confirmed his housemaster's sus- 
 picions. 
 
 * Just before I left home Pads gave me that case. 
 He just shoved it into my pocket, and I forgot all about 
 it and haven't looked at it until now. It was jolly — -—' 
 He was going to say that Pads was a good sort to have 
 given him a present without giving him a chance to 
 thank him, but Max was too impatient to listen any 
 longer. 
 
 * You confess that you always carry matches, and 
 
104 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 the servant who cleans out your room tells me that 
 there has been a smell of smoke in it for several days/ 
 he interrupted. 
 
 ' If they smelt anything funny, it must have been 
 an old pastille we burnt for fun. Will you come and 
 smell for yourself, sir ? ' Joe inquired. 
 
 But this nasal invitation was curtly refused. 
 
 ' I have no reason to disbelieve my informant/ 
 Max added. 
 
 * You have no reason to disbelieve me,' Joe retorted. 
 And he spoke very rudely, for he had arrived at the 
 point when a climax of any kind could only be a 
 relief. 
 
 There seemed, however, to be several reasons why 
 he should not be believed, and he had to listen both 
 to them and to a fearful lecture upon the evils of 
 smoking before the climax was reached. 
 
 ' How,' Max asked, ' can you ever hope to equal 
 the records of your brothers if you give way to ob- 
 noxious habits which destroy your physical develop- 
 ment ? ' 
 
 Innumerable questions of this kind were put to 
 Joe, but Max never stopped for an answer to any of 
 them, and utterly wrong as he was in his suppositions, 
 it was impossible not to recognize that he was almost 
 feverishly eager for the last of the Rumbolds to be 
 a credit to the house. 
 
 In the midst of his fury at being branded as a teller 
 of lies, Joe realized that this chastening came from a 
 whole-hearted, if thoroughly misguided, desire for 
 his physical welfare. 
 
 In the end he leant over a table, while Max impressed 
 the interview upon him. It seemed that both Pads 
 and Bingo had required correction while they were 
 still squeaklings, and, unfortunately for Joe, the result 
 had in each case been successful. From what Max 
 
MAX THE INSCRUTABLE 105 
 
 told him, he understood that in any case he would 
 have been beaten during his first term, if only to keep 
 up the least distinguished of the Rumbold records. 
 
 But Joe left his housemaster's study with the 
 feelings that to belong to such a family, and to have 
 such a man to guide him in the way that he should 
 go, were burdens grievous to be borne. And apart 
 from refusing to believe him. Max had also, either 
 with or without intention, kept the stamps, post- 
 cards, and postal order. 
 
 When Joe returned to his room he found that 
 Ormsby had been beguiling the period of waiting by 
 preparing a surprise. Every piece of furniture they 
 possessed had been moved into a different place, 
 the picture had been hung in a most conspicuous 
 position, and an empty bird-cage was hanging over 
 the window. 
 
 * You have been such a time I had to do something. 
 You can shunt it all back again while Fm with 
 Max. Is he in much of a bait ? ' Ormsby asked, and 
 started towards the door. 
 
 ' He doesn't want you — at least he didn't say so. 
 Where the dickens did you get that thing ? ' Joe re- 
 plied, and pointed to the cage. 
 
 It was difficult to persuade Ormsby that Max did 
 not want to see him, but when he at last was made 
 to understand that his interview was, at any rate, 
 postponed, he said that the bird-cage was a bigger 
 bit of luck than he had ever expected it to be. 
 
 ' But what's the good of it unless you stick a bird 
 in it ? ' Joe asked. 
 
 ' In ^ way, it's a sort of help to the picture. I'm 
 getting to like that picture, and when Max sees the 
 cage hanging over our window — and he can't help 
 seeing it from his garden— he'll bounce in here and 
 think we've got a tame bird. Then he'll find we 
 
lo6 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 haven't, and there's no rule against hanging up an 
 empty bird-cage. However, we will give him the 
 cage if he wants it, and then we shall be allowed to 
 keep the picture. That's how I argued it out ; don't 
 you think it's sound ? ' 
 
 Joe shook his head, and Ormsby continued : 
 
 * You're feeling like that now, and you might tell 
 me what happened while I was letting off steam in 
 here. I should have been trying to get into Max's 
 study if I hadn't kept myself busy.' 
 
 ' Max is mad, and if he says there is a bird in that 
 cage h^ will believe there is one. And we shall catch 
 it hot,' Joe said, and, taking Ormsby's cushion, he 
 put it on the top of his own. 
 
 * Has he been beating you ? ' Ormsby inquired, 
 
 ' He has, and you'd better bury that cage quick. 
 He's got his eye in, and is short of exercise.' 
 
 For a few minutes Ormsby was more or less inco- 
 herent, but eventually he summed up the situation. 
 ' He has beaten you for smoking when you haven't 
 smoked, he's bagged your pocket-book which is stuffed 
 full of bullion, and he needs watching. As I can't 
 go to him, I'm bothered if we don't bring him to us. 
 It's the only thing to do.' 
 
 Whereupon Joe protested that he had no wish to 
 see Max again for a very long time, but Ormsby was 
 too rebellious to listen to any protests. 
 
 ' He can't beat you twice on one night. He's off 
 on the wrong tack, and goodness knows where he'U 
 wander to unless he's pulled up. It isn't as if he 
 can't be all right when he is shown the way, but he 
 wants training,' was the reply. 
 
 The idea of living in the same room with a com* 
 panion ambitious enough to undertake the training of 
 Max gave Joe a cold feeling down the spine. It was 
 impossible, however, to tell for certain whether Ormsby 
 
MAX THE INSCRUTABLE 107 
 
 was serious or not, for he almost contradicted what 
 he said by the comical way in which he spoke. 
 
 ' There's the bell ; let's do some work and give Max 
 a rest/ Joe said. 
 
 ' In half a minute/ Ormsby agreed, and poked his 
 head into the cupboard. On ordinary occasions 
 he was inclined to treat crockery as if it were made 
 of iron, but now that he was both hurried and reck- 
 less, he tossed things about as if he was trying to 
 smash as much as he could in the shortest possible 
 time. At last he emerged with a large wax candle, 
 and a tin thing which was not very unlike a bird. 
 
 ' At the sixpenny-halfpenny bazaar,' he said, as 
 he held up the piece of tin. 
 
 Then he lit the candle, and after some difficulty 
 got it firmly stuck in the cage. 
 
 ' He's going to see that all right ; he can't miss it 
 if he looks out of his study window. And if he doesn't 
 see the candle he'll hear this.' 
 
 Producing a key he thrust it remorselessly into the 
 body of the bird, and after expressing disgust that 
 it had not been properly oiled, he succeeded in winding 
 it up and placing it triumphantly on his desk. 
 
 * It's just like a canary,' he managed to say before 
 the bird practically took possession of the room. 
 
 Joe had heard some bad noises in his life, but never 
 had he listened to one which more instantaneously 
 made him put his hands over his ears. There was, 
 however, no getting away from that canary when it 
 was properly wound up and going. It trilled, squeaked, 
 and warbled until even Ormsby felt compelled to 
 suffocate it with a cushion. But it was an ex- 
 traordinarily long-winded bird, and some of its last 
 and muffled notes were the worst of all. Ormsby 
 called them * pathetic,' a description with which Joe 
 did not agree. 
 
io8 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 A mighty peace filled the room when the canary 
 had ceased, and footsteps were heard in the passage. 
 
 * Here come a few prefects/ Joe said. 
 
 ' Probably Armitage ; they say he's musical/ 
 Ormsby replied. 
 
 But whoever had come out to locate this noise 
 was content to return to his room as soon as it had 
 stopped, and Ormsby at once began to say that the 
 canary had been out of form because it had been out 
 of practice. 
 
 Leaning down and removing the cushion, he re- 
 garded the bird intently and then said that it was 
 only fair to give it a chance, to which Joe replied that 
 it was fairer to give him one. 
 
 * Just once more,* Ormsby entreated, * and if that 
 doesn't fetch Max I'll put it to bed/ 
 
 After this they had a long discussion, which ended 
 in a compromise. The bird was to be half wound up, 
 and if it was as full of bad noises as it had been it was 
 to be promptly suffocated, but this latter part of the 
 agreement was the cause of more dissension. 
 
 For no sooner had the canary got its head than 
 Ormsby declared that it was in much better form, 
 while Joe protested that it was worse than ever. They 
 were still disputing about the merits of the per- 
 formance when the bird gave an expiring gurgle, 
 and Palmer, West, and Armitage entered the room. 
 Behind them were several boys, whose studies had 
 been seriously interrupted by Ormsby's love of 
 sound. 
 
 ' Are you making this abominable row ? ' Palmer 
 asked. 
 
 * The first time I heard it I thought a dozen cats 
 were fighting,' West said. 
 
 At this moment Rose arrived, and pushed himself 
 to the front. * Is someone hurt ? ' he inquired. 
 
MAX THE INSCRUTABLE 109 
 
 Among the multitude of curious fellows Ormsby 
 and Joe sought refuge in silence. 
 
 * What's that cage doing there with a candle in it ? 
 You'll burn the whole place down in a minute/ Armi- 
 tage said. 
 
 Joe looked at Ormsby and for the cause of the 
 trouble, but the canary had suddenly disappeared. 
 If, however, Joe imagined that the bird was going 
 to be disowned, he was very much mistaken, for 
 Ormsby was enjoying himself thoroughly in his own 
 peculiar way, and intended to prolong the enter- 
 tainment. Walking slowly to the cage he blew out 
 the candle and produced the canary. Then he put 
 the bird in the cage and closed the lid. 
 
 For sheer idiocy Joe considered that this perform- 
 ance deserved a gold medal, but there was such a 
 squash in the room that it was difficult for anyone 
 except Palmer and Rose to see what Ormsby had done. 
 Palmer, however, who was short-sighted, put on his 
 glasses and fairly gazed at the bird. 
 
 During this inspection Joe saw Ormsby almost 
 doubled up with laughter, but Rose had at once dis- 
 covered the canary's material, and began to denounce 
 the whole thing as the biggest piece of impudence 
 he had ever heard or seen. A conclusion with which, 
 after he had poked the bird with a pen. Palmer was 
 inclined to agree. 
 
 ' This noise must not occur again ; you have dis- 
 turbed everybody,' the latter said, and Joe thought 
 that the head of the house was extremely merciful. 
 
 But Rose was as bitter as Palmer was mild. Dis- 
 regarding Joe altogether. Rose turned upon Ormsby 
 and was very loquaciously rude. In return Ormsby 
 neither denied nor admitted anything, but by his 
 expression he managed to show that he did not con- 
 sider the affair to be any of Rose's business. 
 
no A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 Rose, however, had a finger in every pie made in 
 Max's house ; in fact, it may be said that he generally 
 both thought of the pie and mixed it, and in this case 
 Ormsby ate it. 
 
 Under orders from Palmer not to repeat their 
 offence, the delinquents at length found themselves 
 alone, and Joe congratulated Ormsby on having 
 escaped so lightly. 
 
 ' Something will have to be done with that man 
 Rose. He's a nuisance, and will have to be removed,' 
 Ormsby replied. 
 
 Whereupon Joe suggested that the reformation of 
 Max and the removal of Rose was a double event 
 too strenuous for them to tackle. But Ormsby, 
 having apparently forgotten all about Max, insisted 
 that Rose needed all the attention that they could 
 give him. A policy with which Joe heartily dis- 
 agreed, for his chief wish both in respect to Rose and 
 Max was to avoid them at all costs. 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 
 A HOST IN HIMSELF 
 
 Directly preparation was over, Joe's congratu- 
 lations turned out to be premature ; for Ormsby 
 was summoned to Palmer's room, and given another 
 lecture by Rose and a beating by Palmer. Far, 
 however, from being depressed by this display of 
 authority, he returned from it with his mind full of 
 what he called ' ideas,' but so very impossible were 
 they that an attempt to carry out even a small pro- 
 portion of them was, Joe thought, bound to end in 
 absolute disaster. 
 
 Neither the reformation of Max nor the removal 
 of Rose was perplexing him when he went to bed 
 that night, for his thoughts were entirely occupied 
 with the problem of how to restrain Ormsby. 
 
 At his private school Joe had worked hard under 
 most of his masters, and had played games well enough 
 to stop anyone, outside his own family, from despising 
 him, and badly enough to prevent anyone from being 
 jealous of him. 
 
 In fact he had spent a very happy time, and if some 
 prophet had warned him that a sea of troubles was 
 waiting for him at Granby, he would have politely 
 told his informant that he was talking rubbish. 
 
 The only difficulty which he had foreseen was that 
 he might be expected to be much better at games 
 
 111 
 
112 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 than he was, but he had imagined that the dullest 
 fellow living would take less than a week to discover 
 that he was only a Rumbold by name. In his secret 
 heart of hearts he had even cherished a hope that his 
 lack of skill at games might be strange enough to 
 be pleasant to those who knew the Rumbold records. 
 
 Instead of this, however, he had found Max almost 
 insanely anxious about his muscles, and had heard 
 Rose say that he only needed a little more strength 
 in his legs to be a * really nippy half-back.' 
 
 Rose's imagination and Max's anxiety were trouble- 
 some enough, but in addition he, in partnership with 
 Ormsby, was already starting upon a very different 
 kind of life from the one that he had contemplated. 
 Altogether things were moving furiously fast and in 
 the wrong direction, and on the night of this busy 
 day Joe went to his dormitory full of a determination 
 to curb Ormsby's activities, and thereby to secure 
 for himself freedom and peace. 
 
 Nothing less than an entirely new life was Joe's 
 programme, and as he lay in bed and wondered how 
 he could persuade Ormsby that they had made a false 
 start, he imagined that the task in front of him was 
 going to be a gigantic one. He rehearsed both his 
 own part and Ormsby's in the coming struggle, and 
 in the end Ortnsby was to be convinced by the cold 
 facts which were put before him. 
 
 It was, however, to be a hard-won victory, and as 
 Ormsby was as adaptable as he was reckless, he would 
 doubtless have played his part properly had he known 
 what was expected of him. But without any know- 
 ledge of Joe's ambition to lead a new life, and of the 
 trouble that had been taken over thinking it out, 
 he knocked all the wind out of Joe's sails at the very 
 start. 
 
 The canary had occupied so much of the time for 
 
A HOST IN HIMSELF 113 
 
 ' prep,' that they returned from morning school with 
 impositions thick upon them. To spend a fine after- 
 noon in writing impositions for Mr. Ridley was a 
 nuisance, but for once Joe welcomed a nuisance with 
 open arms. It was to be, as it were, the text of his 
 sermon. But he had barely begun to preach when 
 Ormsby interrupted him. 
 
 ' You talk sense and I play about like a half-baked 
 baboon,' he said ; ' you go in for the quiet life and all 
 that sort of thing, and I'll give myself a rest-cure.' 
 
 This sudden submission startled Joe, but it did not 
 satisfy him. 
 
 * I heard Temperley say this morning that we were 
 the two best sportsmen in the place. What he meant 
 was that we were idiots,' Joe remarked. 
 
 ' I'm not so sure about that,' Ormsby protested. 
 
 ' I'm plumb sure, because Armitage told him that 
 he meant idiots, and he said that he supposed he did.' 
 
 ' I am disappointed with Pro ; he must be spoken 
 to,' Ormsby returned, and continued gaily to cover im- 
 position paper. 
 
 Every now and then he stopped to suggest plans 
 for the suppression or reformation of somebody. 
 But after each suggestion he remembered that he 
 had sentenced himself to a rest-cure, and offered 
 apologies to Joe. 
 
 By the end of an hour Joe's temper had been re- 
 stored to its normal condition, for Ormsby, having 
 passed sentence upon himself, was already at work 
 to find expedients for beguiling a dull time. What 
 he ought and what he ought not to be allowed to do 
 while he was resting was the subject of his inquiry, 
 and if he interrupted Joe's labours he also enlivened 
 them. 
 
 Some fellows who lived in double rooms at Granby 
 were perpetually squabbling about trifles — the washing- 
 
114 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 up of the tea-things, each other's voices, whose turn 
 it was to put the coal on — but it was impossible to 
 quarrel with Ormsby about such matters. Indeed, 
 as a room companion he was absolutely perfect — when 
 he was not tr3dng to put someone else right or himself 
 in the wrong. It is true that he was as destructive 
 as he was constructive, and that his way of getting 
 out of a difficulty was generally by creating a bigger 
 one, for he liked to keep, as he said, ' things moving/ 
 But annoying as he often was, Joe already knew by 
 experience that he could be a friend in need, and on 
 the day after that wasted afternoon there was ample 
 excuse for grumbling if Ormsby had cared to indulge 
 in that deplorably depressing pursuit. For Joe was 
 chosen to play scrum-half for the house fifteen. 
 
 Most of the first fifteen were either playing on Big 
 Side or injured in one way or another, and when Joe 
 saw his name on the board, and had to listen to Cole's 
 sarcastic congratulations, he was too disgusted to say 
 a word. 
 
 Up to that time Ormsby and he had only played in 
 three or four junior games, and in these the former 
 had shown that he was both quick and clever, while 
 the most complimentary adjective applicable to Joe's 
 efforts was * sedate.' He had not done anything 
 foolish for the simple reason that he had scarcely 
 touched the ball, while Ormsby in one game had got 
 four tries, and by trying experiments had undoubtedly 
 presented his opponents with two. And these experi- 
 ments were remembered against him by Rose, who 
 superintended the junior football. Far, however, 
 from being disagreeable about this gigantic piece 
 of favouritism, Ormsby implored Joe to stop Cole's 
 criticisms by playing ' better than he knew how.' 
 Ormsby had already ceased to laugh at Joe for being 
 a Rumbold, but whether he considered this a mis- 
 
A HOST IN HIMSELF 115 
 
 fortune which had got to be overcome or an honour 
 which must needs be lived up to, Joe neither knew 
 nor cared. 
 
 The Frenshamites, who were supposed to be very 
 jealous of Max's, were the opponents against whom 
 Joe was doomed to struggle, and they certainly 
 fought as if they were sufiering from a superfluity 
 of spleen, and wished to get rid of it. Joe felt as if 
 he was a pigmy being tossed to and fro by an army 
 of small giants, but before the game was over he was 
 an exceedingly indignant and furious pigmy. 
 
 When he returned from afternoon school with 
 Ormsby on that same day he heard Rose saying to 
 Palmer, ' Young Rumbold fought like a young tiger- 
 cat,' a performance which seemed to be meritorious. 
 To hear this surprised Joe, but when he passed into 
 the study-passage and saw Bingo talking to Armitage 
 he guessed the reason why Rose had raised his voice 
 while he was speaking. 
 
 Bingo nodded in a Bingoish way, and Joe hurried 
 on to his room with a blush, which would have made 
 a scarlet peony look pale, covering his face and (he 
 thought) his body. 
 
 ' Who was that terrific blood ? ' Ormsby asked as 
 he put down his books with unnecessary violence. 
 
 At the moment it seemed impossible that anyone 
 could see Bingo in the flesh and not recognize him. 
 Of all bloods he was the blood. Perhaps he rather 
 overplayed the part, for he proclaimed, as loudly as 
 any town-crier could have proclaimed for him, that 
 he was wearing absolutely the most modish clothes. 
 
 ' Didn't that blood nod to you ? ' Ormsby persisted. 
 
 * He's my brother — Bingo,' Joe replied, and strove 
 hard to say it as indifferently as possible. But the 
 attempt failed. Had he been confessing that Ark- 
 wright's Rumbold had suddenly broken out of prison 
 
ii6 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 and appeared in all the glories of a Newmarket coat, 
 his tone could not have been more melancholy. ' 
 
 * I wonder what he wants ? ' Ormsby returned, 
 with a lack of interest magnificent in its way ; and 
 to show how unimportant Bingo's arrival was, he pro- 
 duced the canary and began to wind it up. But 
 before thai process was completed the bird had taken 
 flight into Max's garden, where it lay on the grass, 
 and uttered the most excruciating lamentations. 
 
 * You have fairly put the hd on it this time/ Ormsby 
 said with a chuckle. * I can see Max poking his head 
 out of his study window, and looking a bit worried 
 because he's got a new bird in his garden. I wonder 
 how soon he will be over here.' 
 
 Joe did not wonder in the least, for Bingo was 
 occupying the whole of his thoughts. But before 
 five minutes Max and Bingo met outside his room, 
 and he had reason to be thankful for his brother's 
 sudden arrival. 
 
 The way in which Max greeted Bingo was affection- 
 ate, and Ormsby and Joe, who were on the right 
 side of the door, could not help hearing what was 
 said. In a minute they knew that Bingo had got 
 leave to come down from Cambridge to play for a 
 scratch team of O. G.'s against the school, that he 
 was staying at the Royal, and that he must dine with 
 Max on the following evening. 
 
 ' You'll have to go,' Ormsby whispered, but Joe 
 shook his head violently. Indeed, Joe was too much 
 interested in the meeting outside their door to take 
 any notice of Ormsby. For there stood the Max 
 who. Bingo had said, was a good sort if you got the 
 right side of him, a Max bubbling with heartiness 
 and offers of hospitality. A very different man from 
 the one who had falsely accused Joe of smoking, and 
 stiU possessed a greatly desired pocket-book. 
 
A HOST IN HIMSELF 117 
 
 ' ril bet Max has got the old canary-bird in his 
 hand. It's coming home to roost/ Ormsby declared, 
 and prevented Joe from hearing any more of the con- 
 versation between Max and Bingo. ' Now we are 
 in for it ; IVe got hold of him at last/ Ormsby con- 
 tinued, as the handle of the door rattled. 
 
 To Joe it seemed more probable that Max would 
 * get hold ' of Ormsby, but before he could express 
 his opinion of the situation, the door opened and 
 Max and Bingo appeared. The former was laughing, 
 while Bingo's face was wearing a sort of polite smile. 
 If there was a joke, it was evidently one which Max 
 appreciated more than Bingo, which is as much as 
 to say that it was Max's joke. 
 
 Joe had not inherited the perfect ease of manner 
 which was a characteristic of his celebrate^ brothers, 
 and on this occasion he merely welcomed his visitors 
 by standing up and looking uncomfortable. Ormsby 
 also stood up, but he tried with some success to look 
 as if he was surprised by this intrusion upon his privacy, 
 and would be glad to have it explained. 
 
 ' You don't seem in any hurry to speak to me/ 
 Bingo said, and held out a hand which Joe grabbed. 
 
 ' Musical geniuses are often, I am told, absent- 
 minded,' Max remarked ; and Joe introduced his 
 brother to Ormsby. 
 
 For a moment conversation came to a complete 
 standstill, and then Ormsby broke the silence by 
 asking Max to sit down. 
 
 However embarrassed Joe may have been, it was 
 evident that Ormsby intended to play the host in his 
 own room, and — as he explained afterwards — the fact 
 that Max rather abruptly declined his offer of a chair 
 was no proof that the offer ought not to have been 
 made. 
 
 ' I looked in to ask one or two questions,' Max 
 
Xi8 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 said. ' Both of you boys are, I imagine, devoted to 
 music ? ' 
 
 In reply Ormsby merely grinned, so Joe vouchsafed 
 the information that he was fond of some kinds of 
 music. 
 
 * What kinds, for instance ? ' Max asked. 
 
 * The fiddle, for one, sir.' 
 
 * Sometimes he makes the most hideous noise at 
 home,' Bingo remarked. 
 
 * Perhaps you are fond of hideous noises ? ' Max 
 said to Joe. 
 
 ' I soon get tired of them,' Joe replied ; and at this 
 answer Max was pleased to smile. But it was a smile 
 with two sides to it, one for the benefit of Bingo, the 
 other for the bewilderment of Joe. 
 
 ' How about this ? ' he asked, and, as had been 
 prophesied, the canary had come ' home to roost.' 
 
 ' That bird, sir, is mine,' Ormsby declared at once. 
 
 ' And are you so musical that you threw it into 
 my garden ? ' Max continued, and his smile became 
 twisted. 
 
 ' I rather like it ; I know it's a peculiar taste,' 
 Ormsby continued. 
 
 ' That isn't an answer to my question.' 
 
 Ormsby looked as if he was trying to remember 
 the question, and then answered : * I bought the bird ; 
 it wanted oiling when I got it first.' 
 { •* Who threw it into my garden? ' Max inquired, 
 and his smile had completely subsided. 
 
 ' I did, sir,' Joe said. 
 
 ' But he only did it because he was furious with the 
 bird,' Ormsby hastened to explain. * I mean that he 
 didn't throw it into your garden because it was your 
 garden, but because he had got to throw it somewhere, 
 and the window happened to be handy.' 
 
 * How do you know that ? ' Max asked, and he 
 
A HOST IN HIMSELF 119 
 
 seemed to be mildly amused by this copious explana- 
 tion. 
 
 ' Because, sir, I was here when the bird departed. 
 It was all my fault for buying the thing/ 
 
 'Probably,' Max said, as if the matter had lost 
 all interest for him. 
 
 That what had promised to be quite a good row 
 should come to such a dismal end was most disap- 
 pointing to Ormsby, and he was puzzling out a way 
 to revive it, when Bingo exclaimed : 
 
 ' Isn't that William's awful picture ? How on 
 earth did it turn up again ? ' 
 
 * That is another of the exploits of this redoubtable 
 couple. Their tastes both in music and painting 
 are deplorable. In fact, they want educating all 
 round,' Max informed Bingo. 
 
 Whereupon Bingo inspected the picture, while 
 Max glanced at some books which Joe had brought 
 from home. 
 
 The cessation of hostilities seemed to Joe to be only 
 a prelude to more troubles, but it gave Ormsby an 
 opportunity to think of what he claimed some years 
 afterwards to have been a happy idea. At the time 
 its happiness can scarcely be said to have been very 
 apparent. 
 
 ' Didn't you sell that picture to an old Jew ? ' he 
 asked Bingo. 
 
 At this question Max looked up quickly, and seemed 
 to be much more interested by it than by Joe's 
 books. 
 
 * I don't know,' Bingo replied very doubtfully, 
 and with his nose extraordinarily close to the work 
 of art. At the best of times Joe considered that this 
 brother of his was a little too clever at avoiding blame, 
 but he thought that caution was now being carried 
 to excess. 
 
120 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 ' But you did sell the picture ; I remember you 
 saying so/ Joe remarked. 
 
 ' I sold a picture/ Bingo replied, * and it was very 
 much like this. But this seems a lot more hideous 
 than the other, if the^e is another/ 
 
 With this answer Joe was content, for at any rate 
 Bingo's doubt had not arisen from fear of offending 
 Max. 
 
 ' I am hearing a good deal too much to-night ; 
 there can't be two such daubs in existence,' Max said ; 
 and then, turning on Joe and Ormsby, he added : 
 ' I advise you two to behave yourselves for the future. 
 You are forgiven now, and we'll start fresh. But 
 you have to remember that my garden is not a refuse- 
 heap for your rubbish.' 
 
 The last sentence was addressed solely to Joe, and 
 then Max touched Bingo on the shoulder and told him 
 to come and see Mrs. Lomax. The door had, however, 
 scarcely closed, when he opened it again and said to 
 Joe : ' I shall expect you to dine with us to-morrow 
 night at seven-thirty.' 
 
 He disappeared again before Joe could reply, and 
 Ormsby gave a long and plaintive whistle. 
 
 ' I suppose I shall have to go,' Joe said. 
 
 * You'll get some topping food. He might have 
 asked me as well,' Ormsby returned. 
 
 'He's only asked me because Bingo is here.' 
 
 ' Still, it's rude of him to leave me out ; I can't get 
 going with him anyhow ; he forgives me at sight,' 
 Ormsby replied ; but when pressed, he admitted that 
 an invitation to dine with Max was not altogether a 
 source of unmixed joy. ' It's a bit of luck,' he 
 added, ' that we didn't take that picture back, for 
 Max has forgotten he ever told us to.' 
 
 Bingo stayed at Granby for two or three days, 
 and during that time Joe obtained a very clear vision 
 
A HOST IN HIMSELF 121 
 
 of his importance. Against the school fifteen he played 
 well enough (so Joe was told by Rose) to show that he 
 could have played much better if he had wished. 
 
 Possibly Joe would have enjoyed Bingo's perform- 
 ance had he been able to catch more than fleeting 
 glances of the game, and had not the thought of dining 
 with Max seriously depressed his spirits. Standing, 
 however, behind the touchline, he could see hardly 
 anything of the players ; but he could quite easily 
 imagine Max, Mrs. Max, Bingo, and himself sitting 
 round a table, with his host's eyes riveted upon him. 
 
 ' I shall not be able to eat or speak, and if I try to 
 drink I shall splutter, I am simply bound to upset 
 something that stains the tablecloth ; I always do,' 
 he said suddenly to Ormsby, who was craning his neck 
 in a vain attempt to see something of the game. 
 
 ' Don't you waste a chance of a good meal ; and if 
 you see your pocket-book, drop on to it like a knife. 
 It's yours,' was the reply. 
 
 ' It isn't likely to be floating about in the soup,' 
 Joe remarked. 
 
 ' You never know your luck. It belongs to you all 
 right, if you can only pouch it. What I should hke 
 to know is why fellows who want to see a game are 
 made to stand on the bottom side of the ground where 
 they can't see anything, while a lot of people who wish 
 footer had never been invented stand on the top side 
 and wonder how soon they can go home ? ' 
 
 * You might say all that again,' Joe told him. 
 
 * Not worth it,' he said truthfully ; ' but it amounts 
 to this, that I am fed up with trying to look through 
 fellows twice as thick as I am, or over fellows twice 
 as tall.' 
 
 ' The funny part is that we should be called 
 " slopers " if we weren't here,' Joe said. 
 
 * I shall buy a pair of stilts and bring them up to 
 
122 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 the next match. That will draw attention to our 
 grievances/ 
 
 ' It will draw heaps of attention to you/ Joe told 
 him. 
 
 * I am a nailer on stilts/ he replied, ' and, anyway, 
 you have got to sacrifice yourself for the public good. 
 My father is always rubbing that into me/ 
 
 ' Tm about fed up with sacrificing myself/ Joe 
 assured him. 
 
 ' That's right enough/ he replied at once, * because 
 if you liked sacrificing yourself, it wouldn't be a sacri- 
 fice—at least, I don't think it would. This blooming 
 game is over, and I should say we have won, for Max 
 is patting Palmer on the back. It's a compensation 
 for a very dull afternoon to remember that when we 
 have lived a few more years, we may be worthy to 
 be patted on the back by Max. Don't you think 
 so?' 
 
 Joe thought that his companion was talking even 
 more ' absolute tosh ' than usual, and promptly told 
 him so. 
 
 * I like your sturdy way of speaking the truth,' 
 he replied, and proceeded to say how he should be- 
 have if Max had asked him to dinner. 
 
 He tried to persuade Joe that Max ceased to be a 
 master as soon as he became a host, and that there- 
 fore he ought to be given a chance, and to be treated 
 like an ordinary human being. Most of what he said 
 was compounded of madness and mischief, but he 
 finished up as they went into their room : ' If 1 were 
 you, Joe, I'd bury the old Max, and begin all over 
 again with him. He's a sort of Janus, and you have 
 got hold of his wrong face. It makes me ill to see 
 you funking Max, when really you are no more of a 
 funk than Garibaldi.' 
 
 *. He's a biscuit,' Joe said without thinking. 
 
A HOST IN HIMSELF 123 
 
 ' He's also the bravest man who ever lived ; you 
 may put the last button of your best coat on that. 
 Men with bulging foreheads come down to see my father, 
 and the only man they ever agree about is Garibaldi. 
 A dinner with Max would be a picnic compared with 
 some of the meals I have been through at home ; 
 they last for hours, and Tm not allowed to bolt.' 
 
 At this Joe expressed his sympathy, and also begged 
 Ormsby to come and spend some of his next holidays 
 at Maiden Croft. But before the invitation could be 
 either refused or accepted, Steel appeared. 
 
 ' I was to give Mrs. Lomax's compliments, and she 
 would be glad if Mr. Ormsby would dine with her 
 and Mr. Lomax at seven- thirty,' he announced. 
 
 ' You're rotting,' Ormsby said ; but no one ever 
 looked more incapable of rotting than Max's butler. 
 
 ' That was the message I was to give,' he said, 
 and retreated without waiting for a reply. ^ 
 
 Ormsby, however, pursued him into the passage, 
 and shouted to him. 
 
 ' Wait a minute ; I must send an answer,' he called 
 out. 
 
 * An answer is unnecessary. Mrs. Lomax's in- 
 vitations are treated as commands,' the butler re- 
 turned. 
 
 ' That just serves me right for rotting you,' Ormsby 
 said to Joe ; * but all the same, we've got to get some 
 fun out of this somehow.' 
 
 He spoke a little aggressively, for, with reason, 
 he thought that Joe would have something to say 
 about this sudden and unexpected invitation. But 
 Joe frequently wasted opportunities, and on this 
 occasion he was so wholly delighted to think that he 
 would have Ormsby 's support, that he did not attempt 
 to be funny at his expense. 
 
 Until Ormsby had spoken so straightforwardly. 
 
124 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 it had never occurred to Joe that he could be accused 
 of funking Max ; but although for the future he de- 
 termined that this charge should not be true, he went 
 to the dinner-party with no hope whatever of enjoy- 
 ing himself. No sooner, however, had he and Ormsby 
 placed tentative feet inside the drawing-room, than 
 they found that there were several other guests be- 
 sides themselves. 
 
 Bingo, with the latest fashion in buttons upon his 
 white waistcoat, was standing by the fireplace, and 
 Joe saw Palmer and Armitage looming tall in the dis- 
 tance, while some of the O.G/s who had been play- 
 ing against the school were scattered round the room. 
 
 The advance of these two small boys upon the coat- 
 tailed crowd was not exactly a pleasure-trip, but before 
 they could decide whether the last state of this party 
 was better or worse than the one they had expected, 
 Mrs. Max descended upon them. 
 . Somehow or other Joe had forgotten that, under 
 any circumstances, he would have one friend at the 
 dinner-party ; for the most uncomprehending boy 
 ever born had only to be at Max's house for a few days 
 to find out that Mrs. Max was the champion of every- 
 one who was weak, or insignificant, or in trouble. 
 
 In Max's, athletic to its finger and toe tips, she 
 was invaluable. Boys might be furious with Max, 
 and criticize him as bitterly as they liked, but Mrs. 
 Max was out of bounds for that kind of conversation. 
 She was as sacred to the Maxites as the regimental 
 pet to the most inhuman soldier. How she arrived 
 at this state of distinction Joe never knew, for she 
 was there when he went to Granby, and was just 
 accepted as a gift from the gods, a treasure beyond 
 either praise or blame. 
 
 On this occasion she took Joe and Ormsby in hand 
 at once, and begged the latter's pardon for not asking 
 
A HOST IN HIMSELF 125 
 
 him sooner. And when she saw that this had reduced 
 Ormsby to a state - of confusion, she added : * The 
 truth is that I expected my young nephew, who is in 
 Mr. Ferguson's house, but he is in bed with a bad 
 cold ; so I asked you to prevent Joe from feeUng 
 lonely.' 
 
 The gong, however, sounded before Ormsby could 
 reply, and Max rushed round his guests as if he was 
 a sheep-dog, and practically drove them into the 
 dining-room. 
 
 * You sit on my right, and you on my left,' Mrs. 
 Max, quite unruffled by these gymnastics, said to Joe 
 and Ormsby ; and the former's spirits gave such an 
 upward jump that he felt like shouting. 
 
 For this announcement was in its way a message 
 of salvation, and when Joe was seated by Mrs. Max, 
 with Ormsby opposite to him, and the O.G. who had 
 insisted upon being stumped at Maiden Croft on his 
 right, he thought that he had been hopelessly idiotic 
 to worry about this dinner-party. 
 
 A long way off, at the other end of the table. Max 
 sat with Bingo and other bloods to keep him company, 
 and Joe thanked his stars that his O.G. — ^whose name 
 was Watney — ^was inclined to be stout, and afforded 
 a splendid protection from critical eyes. 
 
 As the dinner went on Joe had a delicious feeling 
 that at Mrs. Max's end of the table the conversation 
 was almost treasonable. At the very start Watney 
 had won Joe's and Ormsby's admiration, because 
 they discovered from some remark of Mrs. Max's 
 that he had been on an expedition to the North Pole. 
 In fact, he seemed to have been all over the world, 
 searching for things which were too successfully hid- 
 den ; but whether he had been wasting his time or 
 had not, he was, at any rate, a new experience to Joe, 
 and his views about games and their importance were 
 
126 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 so violently opposed to Max's, that Mrs. Max had at 
 last to tell him that he was a most amusing and amiable 
 crank. 
 
 Possibly he was not pleased with being called 
 ' amiable,' for shortly after Mrs. Max had labelled 
 him he dropped a regular bomb into the room. 
 
 * I would rather,' he said during a pause in the con- 
 versation, ' swim the Channel than beat the Australians 
 by a single innings off my own bat.' 
 
 After this announcement Joe glanced at Ormsby 
 to see whether he was disappointed. For, after 
 looking for a Pole, Joe could not understand anyone 
 wanting to do a sort of second-rate thing like swimming 
 the Channel. But it soon transpired that Watney 
 had only made this announcement to provoke a dis- 
 cussion, and in this he was certainly successful. 
 
 Joe heard Mrs. Max say quietly that it was far too 
 bad of him, and he turned to her and replied : ' I 
 am very sorry, Mrs. Max, but I had to have a whack 
 at them. They will really enjoy it.' 
 
 If, however, outward and visible signs count for 
 anything, it did not seem as if Max and the bloods 
 sitting near him enjoyed this bomb as much as Watney 
 enjoyed throwing it at them. In a minute they were 
 all in full cry after him, and until they had talked 
 themselves more or less to a tongue-still he just sat 
 and smiled at them. 
 
 Channel swimming was ridiculed as a yearly adver- 
 tisement for patent foods, and as a pretext for getting 
 photographed for the halfpenny papers. And the 
 bomb-thrower laughed out loud when an O.G., whose 
 collar concealed the lower portion of his countenance, 
 expressed a pious hope that no Granbeian would ever 
 disgrace the school by swimming in the presence of 
 reporters. 
 
 ' You play cricket and all your little games before 
 
A HOST IN HIMSELF 127 
 
 reporters. Why shouldn't you swim in front of 
 them ? ' Watney asked. 
 
 ' It isn't done,' the collared one said emphatically. 
 
 ' If you can't see the difference for yourself, we shall 
 never make you,' Bingo told him. 
 
 * ** Little games " ! ' Palmer exclaimed so scorn- 
 fully that Mrs. Max smiled. To have exasperated 
 Palmer was a feat in itself. 
 
 ' You forget,' Max said, ' that what you scoff at as 
 *' little games " are part of a thought-out and r gu- 
 lated system for the forming and training of character.' 
 
 * Of course they are,' came in chorus. 
 
 ' The expression " play the game " means a lot to 
 Englishmen,' the 0.6. next to Ormsby remarked ; 
 and as this man had been monosyllabic until that 
 moment, Joe felt sorry that his first effort to contri- 
 bute to the conversation was totally disregarded. 
 
 * What sort of character is your system forming ? ' 
 Watney asked Max. 
 
 In reply the latter hit straight from the shoulder. 
 He gave instances of public men who derided sport 
 and athletics and who lost their tempers when they 
 were heckled in debate. He advanced the view that 
 the British Empire was to all intents and purposes 
 held together by the visits of cricket and football 
 teams to various Colonies. Max, indeed, was niore 
 than a little angry, and if he exaggerated the ad- 
 vantages of games, it must be acknowledged that he 
 spoke very fluently and forcibly. 
 
 ' Games of all kinds,' he concluded, ' are a disci- 
 pline which is not to be scoffed at because it happens 
 in most cases to be pleasant. You pessimists think 
 that everything must be disagreeable before it can 
 possibly be right. If a man is a good enough cricketer 
 to play for England, you say at once that he ought 
 to be ashamed of himself for wasting so much time ; 
 
128 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 but you would be the first to say that the country is 
 going to the dogs if England happened to be beaten 
 at any game under the sun/ 
 
 A buzz of approval was Max's reward, but his 
 opponent looked supremely calm and good-tempered. 
 
 * You are wrong/ he replied, ' in thinking that I 
 am a pessimist either about the country or about 
 public schools. All I want are some alterations/ 
 
 * For instance ? ' Max snapped. 
 
 * I should like to know,' Watney replied, ' that all 
 the boys here and at every other public school are 
 taught to ride, shoot, and swim. No time ? I agree, 
 under your present system. But why should it be 
 thought necessary for a boy either to hit or kick a 
 ball every day of his life except Sundays ? Why 
 can't he be taught not only to shoot and ride, but to 
 consider that a good horseman or a good shot is worth 
 as much consideration in his school as the best batsman 
 or the best bowler ? ' 
 
 Max showed obvious signs of impatience before 
 Watney had finished speaking. Here, he thought, 
 was the pernicious amateur who was the bane of 
 every public schoolmaster's life. The kind of man who 
 loved to display his ignorance by writing to the daily 
 papers. No other profession on the face of the globe 
 was' liable to such outrageous attacks. Such thoughts 
 went rapidly through Max's mind as he listened to 
 what he considered Watney's impossible suggestions, 
 and it stands to his credit that he remembered while 
 he was replying that he was speaking to his guest. 
 
 ' Every boy learns to swim,* he said, Vand most of 
 them learn to shoot. We can't be expected to keep 
 a stud of horses.' 
 
 'Why not ?\ 
 
 ' The idea is ridiculous, Watney ; you know as well 
 as I do how ridiculous it is,' he replied, and turned to 
 
A HOST IN HIMSELF 129 
 
 those sitting near him for the support which they were 
 eager to give. 
 
 But if Watney in the beginning had begun the dis- 
 cussion from a love of mischief and an inopportune 
 desire to disturb the self-complacency of Max and of 
 the bloods who surrounded him, the subject was one 
 in which he was really so interested that he could not 
 prevent himself from being serious about it. The 
 clamour of Max's adherents annoyed him not at all, 
 but it did add to his determination to continue the 
 discussion, in spite of the fact that he knew Mrs. 
 Max would be annoyed. 
 
 ' Excuse me, sir,' he said, ' but I don't agree that 
 it is ridiculous. Why shouldn't a certain number 
 of horses be kept, and the boys made to groom, feed, 
 and ride them in turns ? Why shouldn't they be 
 taught something which will be useful to them all 
 their lives, instead of a proficiency at ball games, 
 which is no use whatever to them after they are middle- 
 aged ? Besides the usefulness of it, you would be 
 giving a different kind of boy a fair chance to become 
 of some importance in the school. Now the athlete 
 is everything, and the scholar nothing, unless he also 
 happens to be an athlete.' 
 
 At this point Mrs. Max moved her chair slightly, 
 and thought that it was time to retire with Joe and 
 Ormsby. But when she glanced at Joe's face, and 
 saw it aglow with expectation and excitement, she 
 had not the heart to take him away. If Max wanted 
 them to go, she knew that he would have no scruples 
 in telling her, and strongly as she believed in Granby, 
 she was not one of those who desired to fly directly 
 it was attacked. 
 
 Joe could see that Max's eyebrows were beginning 
 to twitch, and, indeed, was so hugely enjoying him- 
 self that he had entirely forgotten where he was, 
 
 5 
 
1^6 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 Of how he had happened to get there. If he had 
 said anything, he would have merely advised both 
 sides to * stick to it/ He was a partisan of neither 
 side as yet, but he had a secret admiration for any 
 man who dared to dispute with his housemaster. 
 
 ' Now,' Max said, and his calmness surprised Mr^* 
 Max, ' you are talking sheer nonsense. In the first 
 place, why should a scholar be more likely to be a 
 good horseman than a boy who can already play games ? 
 And, secondly, you take it for granted that what you 
 call " ball games " are no use to a man of middle age. 
 There you are so hopelessly wrong that it is futile 
 to try and convince you* The exercise that a boy 
 has taken during the early years of his life^ and the 
 control he has had to keep over his temper, are two 
 of the main factors in giving him a sound constitution 
 and a sound character.' 
 
 ' I agree with that,' Watney replied at once, ' to a 
 very large extent. 1 don't want games to be abolished, 
 but I do not want boys to be surfeited with them^ 
 and to be made to think that they are a thousand 
 times more important than they are* And as for 
 the scholar, I did not say that he would naturally 
 be a fine horseman ; but I do think that to give him 
 another chance of taking his proper position in the 
 School would be a very sound move.* 
 
 ' His proper position in the school is at the top of 
 his class,' Max said> with a sudden lack of restraint I 
 and Bingo's laughter sounded down the table. 
 
 Before the mirth caused by Max*s statement had 
 subsided, Watney had time to realize that his argu- 
 ment in favour of riding was one that might easily 
 be ridiculed by an opponent with a sense of humour. 
 He had, he admitted to himself, started on the wrong 
 tack when he had advocated riding for the reason 
 that it might help the scholar* He ought to have 
 
A HOST IN HIMSELF 131: 
 
 taken a wider view, and to have said that the country 
 needed good shots and good riders more than it wanted 
 men who could drop goals or hit boundaries. So 
 far he had been exploiting his own ideas, and he was 
 perfectly ready to acknowledge that soundness wa3 
 not the quality for which they were usually distin- 
 guished. 
 
 But in addition to his own opinions, he held those 
 of a man in whom he believed with the whole of his 
 extremely abundant heart. 
 
 * Let us leave athletics,' he said, and smiled im- 
 perturbably in the direction of Max, * and see what 
 public schools are doing in other ways. What, for 
 instance, are you doing to fight the tendencies of the 
 present day ? ' 
 
 * I don't know what you mean,' Max replied. ' ' Are 
 you going to give a lecture on what the faddists call 
 " social service " ? ' 
 
 Bingo groaned loudly. 
 
 ' You may call it what you like, but you know far 
 better than I do that in many cases home traditions 
 have utterly disappeared, and that, unless you can 
 provide a substitute, hundreds of boys will leave their 
 schools with no intention of serving anyone except 
 themselves. You have got to fight against national 
 slackness and a decay of ideals.' 
 
 ' We do fight against them — believe me, we do/ 
 Max answered. * You are trying to put the blame 
 for lack of national energy, and for every other com- 
 plaint from which the country is supposed to be 
 suffering, upon the public schools. That, to my mind, 
 is both unfair of you and — if I may say so — disloyal.' 
 
 * I wish you would read an article on " Public 
 Schools " in this month's White Review. It puts 
 the case a thousand times better than I can put it/ 
 Watney said. 
 
132 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 ' Who wrote it ? One of those meddlesome fellows 
 who can never leave well alone, I'll be bound/ Max 
 retorted. 
 
 ' It was written by Bingo's cousin, William Rum- 
 bold,' Watney answered ; and Max leant back in his 
 chair and laughed again and again. 
 
 * My dear Watney,' he said at last, * for a few 
 minutes I admit that you seemed to me to have be- 
 come slightly demented. I couldn't make out what 
 was the matter with you, and really I thought you 
 were serious. But now I see the whole thing. What 
 a wag you are, Watney ! But you always were. 
 Pass Watney the port. Palmer ; he has succeeded 
 in giving my leg a very sound pull. William Rum- 
 bold ! ' and again Max had to struggle with his laughter. 
 
 But just as Joe was in a bubble of excitement over 
 this abrupt introduction of the family scapegoat into 
 the discussion, and hoping that someone would be 
 found to defend him, Mrs. Max said : 
 
 * Will you and Ormsby come to the drawing-room 
 with me ? ' 
 
 Joe knew that it was useless for him to say how 
 eagerly he wanted to stay where he was, but as he 
 passed Bingo, who had opened the door, he whispered : 
 
 * Stick up for William ; he gave me a sovereign.' 
 
 ' I'm blowed if I do ! If possible, he's a bigger 
 ass than Watney,' was the answer. 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 
 AFTER THE PARTY 
 
 When Mrs. Max had small boys to entertain, she 
 usually either gave them photographs to look at or 
 puzzles to solve. She provided this form of amuse- 
 ment not for the purpose of silencing her guests, 
 but with the object of giving them an excuse for not 
 talking if they wished to remain dumb. But her 
 knowledge of human nature was deep-rooted, and 
 as she entered her drawing-room she felt that if photo- 
 graphs and puzzles had to be produced on this evening, 
 their appearance would not be due to the shyness 
 of her guests, but because she might be asked questions 
 that were extremely difficult to answer. She had 
 seen both Joe and Ormsby absorbing the conversa- 
 tion that had taken place in the dining-room, and her 
 conscience was a trifle uneasy at having given them 
 such an ample opportunity to listen. 
 
 Joe, however, was so afflicted by having been com- 
 pelled to leave Mr. Watney as the sole champion of 
 William Rumbold, that he was temporarily incapable 
 of thinking of anything except what he would have 
 said if he had still been in the proper place, and had 
 possessed the courage, to say it. He could hear 
 Max's laughter at the mention of William Rumbold's 
 name still ringing in his ears, and he felt as if he was 
 a traitor to have left the room without proclaiming 
 
 133 
 
134 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 the fact that, although he had once thought his cousin 
 ' an absolute rotter/ several things (not forgetting 
 the sovereign) had lately happened to make him 
 change his mind. 
 
 If Joe was thinking hard an acute expression of 
 anguish always overspread his naturally cheerful 
 countenance, and when Mrs. Max glanced at him she 
 only just checked herself from asking him if he was 
 unwell. Her attention, however, was at that moment 
 diverted from Joe to Ormsby, who had scarcely 
 spoken a word during dinner, and was sublimely 
 ready to make up for lost time. Secretly, Ormsby 
 had determined at this dinner-party to convince 
 Joe that there was no necessity whatever to be afraid 
 of Max. Joe was to have seen him treating his house* 
 master as man to man, and conversing with him on 
 terms of the most invigorating equality. One of 
 Ormsby's extremely pet theories was that there was 
 nobody on earth who had the smallest right to make 
 anyone else nervous, and he held it with all the more 
 tenacity because nine people out of ten who came to 
 gtay with his father reduced him to a state of almost 
 frantic terror. He had, however, been through what 
 he called ' the mill,' by which he meant a dinner* 
 table, where he sat for hours listening to arguments 
 which did not interest him. 
 
 Max's dinner-party Was to have been very different 
 from any that he had been coerced to attend at home. 
 At whatever personal inconvenience to himselfj he 
 had resolved to give Joe a lesson. And the reality 
 was such a disappointment that he felt Joe and he 
 tnust very soon manage to dine with Masl again. 
 Look at it as he would— and he could seldom be 
 accused of not facing a situation — he had been a 
 cipher at this dinner. Max had only spoken to him 
 once and then had not waited for a reply, and in 
 
AFTER THE PARTY 135 
 
 general conversation it was his miserable fate to know 
 that Joe had made five remarks to his three (two of 
 which had been so directly addressed to his plate 
 that they had passed without notice). Indeed, he 
 was — in fairness to Joe — not at all sure that his own 
 score ought not to be entered as * one/ 
 
 There was more than a dim feeling in Ormsby's 
 mind that up to now he had done very badly, and the 
 fact that there had been no opportunity to do any- 
 thing else failed to console him, because lack of oppor^ 
 tunity was not accepted as an excuse either by his 
 father or the learned men who visited him. In some 
 way or other he had to set himself right both in his 
 own eyes and Joe's, and as soon as he was firmly situ- 
 ated in the drawing-room, he determined to ask Mrs. 
 Max a few searching questions, 
 
 * Could you tell me,' he began, ' if Mr. Lomax was 
 really amused by Joe's cousin ? ' 
 
 ' I am afraid I can't,' Mrs. Max replied, and added ; 
 * Why do you think he wasn't ? ' 
 
 * Because I have often heard people laugh like that 
 when they are really angry. We argue all meal- 
 times at home, and after an hour or two someone gets 
 scored off, and laughs to show that he doesn't mind,' 
 
 Mrs. Max looked round to see if the puzzles were 
 safely on their table, and wondered if Ormsby would 
 be content to occupy himself with them. If he was 
 not, she resolved to send both him and Joe promptly 
 to bed. Her momentary inattention, however, had 
 given Ormsby the time to see that this last remark 
 might possibly be misunderstood. 
 
 * I did not mean,' he went on to explain, ' that I 
 think Mr. Watney scored off Mr. Lomax, I was all 
 for our side.' 
 
 ' Which is our side ? ' Joe suddenly asked. 
 
 ' Why, the Granby side. What's the use of being 
 
136 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 at a place and not believing in it ? It isn't any use, 
 is it ? ' he appealed to Mrs. Max. 
 
 ' I don't think that either of you need bother about 
 Mr. Watney, for you can trust those who look after 
 Granby to see that it moves with the times,' Mrs. 
 Max replied. 
 
 This remark, however, involved her in a veritable 
 flood of questions. Joe wanted to find out whether 
 she knew William Rumbold ; and when she admitted 
 that she did, he begged her to tell him what she 
 thought of him. Her evasive answer that both he 
 and she were interested in gardening, and had a lot 
 to talk about, did nothing to turn Joe's attention 
 from what he wished to discover. He did not know 
 the difference between a pansy and a periwinkle, and 
 did not want to, but he desired most intensely to find 
 out whether Mrs. Max held the ordinary Rumbold 
 opinion of Cousin William. But hard-pressed though 
 she was, she managed eventually to turn the con- 
 versation away from William Rumbold without 
 having expressed any definite opinion about him, 
 for she recognized that Joe was already more than 
 half inclined to place him upon a pedestal, and knew 
 that nothing except trouble both at Maiden Croft 
 and at Granby could come from that. But the idea 
 of a Rumbold, who was preparea to think more of 
 the despised and unpopular William than of his 
 celebrated and idolized brothers, both aroused her 
 keenest interest and tickled her sense of humour. 
 Here, at any rate, was a secret that she must leave 
 her husband to find out for himself, and for Joe's 
 sake she hoped that the discovery would be long de- 
 layed. A Rumbold untrue to sample was not, she 
 knew, likely to be received with any enthusiasm by 
 the ruler of Oakshotte. At the best of times Mr. 
 Lomax had not much patience with boys who showed 
 
AFTER THE PARTY 137 
 
 a trace of originality ; he liked them to come to him 
 eager and ready to be stamped with the Oakshotte 
 brand. What he called ' animal spirits ' he could 
 and did pardon time after time ; they were merely 
 exhibitions of the physical fitness that he adored, 
 but if a boy got bitten by ' ideas ' Max conceived it 
 his duty to crush them out at once and for ever. 
 
 What his feelings would be when he discovered that 
 Joe of all boys was not prepared to be stamped with 
 the Oakshotte brand Mrs. Max could not imagine. 
 During the last holidays he had congratulated himself 
 several times upon the fact that there was still one 
 Rumbold left, and supposing this last of the famous 
 brotherhood was destined to turn out a most painful 
 thorn in the flesh ! No wonder, Mrs. Max thought, 
 that Mrs. Rumbold, who was generally the least fussy 
 of all mothers, had seemed to be anxious about her 
 youngest son. 
 
 While Mrs. Max sat quietly thinking, Joe and 
 Ormsby, regardless of her, were engaged upon an 
 argument. She heard Joe saying that he meant to 
 read the article in the White Review, while Ormsby 
 declared that he was not going to read any such 
 rubbish. 
 
 ' Why not ? ' Joe asked him. 
 
 ' Because if it's sense it will only make me believe 
 everything's wrong. And as long as we have got 
 to stay here, it's a jolly lot more comfortable to think 
 everything's right.' 
 
 As her guests seemed to have settled down to an 
 animated discussion, Mrs. Max did not interrupt them 
 until it threatened to become a little too animated. 
 
 ' I expected you to cram your brothers down my 
 throat, but I rather draw the line at a rotten cousin,' 
 she heard Ormsby saying, and thought that it was 
 time to draw attention to her presence. 
 
t38 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 ' I have heard from your mother/ she said to Joe, 
 ■ and there are some messages to you/ 
 
 Then Ormsby got up and walked over to the table, 
 on which there were several books of photographs. 
 And as he stood there with his back to Mrs. Max and 
 Joe he had a sensation of supreme internal discomfort, 
 and began to ask himself a series of questions. * Was 
 it fair to advise a chap to do a thing, and then not dare 
 to do it yourself ? ' The answer to that question 
 was an emphatic negative, but the matter was not so 
 easily decided as that. ' Wasn*t that advice more 
 of a joke than anything else ? ' He could not reply 
 to this satisfactorily, for he never thought before he 
 spoke, and in most cases could not tell if he really 
 meant what he said. He just blurted out things. 
 So he passed on to another and larger view of the 
 situation. ' When some chap had got hold of a thing 
 that belonged to another chap, and you had a chance 
 to give it back to the right chap, weren't you bound 
 in decency to do it ? ' It did not matter two brass 
 buttons, he told himself, who the chaps were. 
 
 For several seconds his eyes were glued to one spot 
 on the table, and then the thought passed through 
 his mind that he was a funk, and his decision was 
 made. Whatever else he was prepared to be called, 
 he did not intend either to call himself or to be called 
 a ' funk.' Anxious now to get out of the room at 
 once, he turned round and was relieved to find that 
 Mrs. Max was saying ' Good-night ' to Joe. In 
 another minute his boats would be completely burnt, 
 a process which had not lost any of its fascination 
 from the frequency with which he had performed it. 
 
 But Mrs. Max was in no hurry to dismiss him, and 
 during those minutes Ormsby was conscious of a 
 haunting dread that she knew what he had done, 
 and was giving him a chance to retrieve himself. 
 
AFTER THE PARTY 139 
 
 Never in his life had he been so hopelessly at a loss 
 for words or so awkward, and in his confusion he 
 found himself biting his nails, a habit which he hap- 
 pened to consider peculiarly disgusting. At last, 
 however, he was allowed to follow Joe, and no sooner 
 was he outside the range of Mrs. Max's eyes than his 
 spirits began to rise. 
 
 * Joe ! ' he shouted, but Joe was already inside the 
 dormitory, and watching Battersby's convulsive 
 efforts to do one more pull-up. 
 
 ' I want to tell you something quick ; Fve got no 
 end of a wheeze on,' he whispered in Joe's ear, but 
 at that moment Piper accused them both of thinking 
 themselves bloods because they had dined with Max, 
 and Crake came up to inspect their clothes. 
 
 The inspector, however, had only succeeded in 
 finding one spot on Ormsby's trousers when the lights 
 were turned out. 
 
 Slowly groping his way back to his cubicle, Joe first 
 of all fell over Battersby, who was lying on the floor 
 and lifting his legs over his head, and then bumped 
 into Ormsby, who caught him by the arm. 
 
 * I've got something to show you,' Ormsby whis- 
 pered. 
 
 ' It's as dark as black pigs ; let it wait until morn- 
 ing,' Joe replied, and stumbled into his cubicle. 
 
 But when he was nearly undressed he heard some- 
 one moving his curtain. 
 
 * Are you in bed ? ' Ormsby whispered. 
 
 ' No,' Joe rephed, ^ can't whatever it is wait ? I'm 
 half asleep.' 
 
 ' You'll be awake enough in a minute. Are you 
 brushing your teeth ? ' 
 
 * I'm trying to find my tooth-powder.' 
 ' Use soap ; it's just as good.' 
 
 ' Not Max's soap. It tastes like tallow.' 
 
140 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 Ormsby waited patiently until Joe was in bed, ancj 
 then delivered the great news. 
 
 ' I've got it,' he whispered. 
 
 ' What ? ' Joe asked. 
 
 ' Where's your blooming hand ? Here, take it.' 
 
 The first portion of Joe that the pocket-book touched 
 was his nose, but in a few seconds he was sitting up 
 in bed with his property in his hand. His first feel- 
 ing was one of intense delight, but when the sudden 
 joy of recovering his possessions and of having scored 
 off Max had passed away, he felt such a jumble of 
 emotions that he could hardly speak. 
 
 * How did you get it ? ' he managed to ask. 
 
 ' It was lying on a table with all those photographs, 
 and when you were talking to Mrs. Max I saw it and 
 boned it. I believe it was stuck there on purpose,' 
 Ormsby added, and tried to laugh. 
 
 ' My whiskers ! ' was all that Joe could say. 
 
 For what seemed to both of them an interminable 
 time they sat in silence, Joe holding the pocket-book, 
 while Ormsby nursed his knees, and a little resent- 
 ment at the way in which he was being received. 
 
 ' It's jolly good of you,' Joe whispered at last, 
 ' but ' 
 
 * Blow the '' buts." The thing's yours. Max bagged 
 it, I rebagged it ; it's all as plain as a pikestaff.' 
 
 ' You'll get into an almighty row,' Joe said. 
 
 ' I don't care if I do. I'm not going to funk Max. 
 And anyway it's yours, and we'll spend the inside 
 of it to-morrow so that he can't have that back.' 
 
 * To-morrow's Sunday,' Joe reminded him. 
 
 * So it is ; still we might use a stamp or two. I 
 had to bag the thing ; I couldn't leave it lying there 
 when I'd told you to nip on to it if you got half a 
 chance, could I ? ' 
 
 * No,' Joe replied, and failed to be as emphatic a*^ 
 
AFTER THE PARTY 141 
 
 he wished. 'It's most frightfully decent of you/ 
 he added, and felt that Ormsby was very disap- 
 pointed with him. 
 
 ' I'm quite ready to get into a row/ Ormsby con- 
 tinued. ' Max oughtn't to have bagged it, and then 
 left it about. Won't he be sick when he misses it ? ' 
 
 ' Rather,' Joe said. 
 
 ' I'd hate to bag a thing in cold blood, but your 
 pocket-book was just waiting for me to take it,' 
 Ormsby said, and went on to give copious explanations 
 and to find excuses for what he had done. 
 
 It was not by any means the scene of rejoicing over 
 the return of the wanderer that he had beguiled him- 
 self into anticipating. Indeed Joe seemed so unable 
 to rejoice, or even to speak, that he almost wished 
 that he had left the pocket-book on the table, or at 
 any rate had never happened to see it. 
 
 But the fat was in the fire now, and it was no use 
 to pretend that it was not. And as for the conse- 
 quences he honestly did not care one straw. Ur- 
 gently he wanted to have a * single ' with Max, just to 
 put things on a sound footing, but he had something 
 like a weight on his conscience when he thought of 
 the means he had taken to bring about this encounter. 
 
 So he continued to find innumerable excuses for his 
 conduct, and to try to make Joe look upon what he 
 called the bright side of the eighth commandment. 
 But although Joe gave an occasional grunt, which 
 was meant to convey either appreciation or assent, 
 the only coherent thought in his mind was : * He'll 
 be sacked to a dead certainty.' And the dread of 
 such a punishment for the boy, who was by far his 
 greatest friend at Granby, tied his tongue, and pre- 
 vented him from showing the least enthusiasm over 
 the return of his pocket-book. 
 
 ' You've forgotten that Max has still got my canary 
 
142 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 to play about with,' Ormsby said, in the hope that he 
 might hear Joe laugh. 
 
 ' So he has,* Joe repUed dully, and Ormsby gave up 
 the struggle. 
 
 ' Well write dozens of letters to-morrow. IVe 
 got a cousin in Montenegro, and another in Persia ; 
 they're worth five pence between them. We'll soon 
 get rid of those stamps,' he said, and went back to 
 his own cubicle. 
 
 For a moment Joe sat up in his bed and smiled. 
 To have to search for people to write to, so that the 
 contents of the pocket-book might be dispersed as 
 quickly as possible, was an amusing result of Onnsby's 
 adventure, even if it was not precisely the way irt 
 which any sane fellow would prefer to spend his money. 
 But as soon as this sense of amusement had vanished, 
 Joe lay down to decide what must be done. 
 
 At any cost Ormsby must be saved. The mere 
 thought of Granby without him made Joe want to 
 kick himself for mentioning that Max had kept his 
 pocket-book. ' I might have known that as soon 
 as he knew he would be mad enough to bag the thing 
 if he got half a chance,' he kept on telling himself. 
 And what punishment except expulsion could there 
 be for a fellow who was asked to dinner, and then 
 calmly took a thing that did not belong to him ? 
 Even supposing Max let Ormsby off with a tremendous 
 thrashing he would never trust nor believe him again. 
 * He'll always think he's a thief, and he's really no more 
 a thief than I am. It's just rotten luck,' Joe confided 
 to himself, and resolved to keep awake for hours. 
 
 With this end in view he began to think of relations 
 to whom he could write on the following day, but he 
 had only arrived somewhere between the sixth and 
 seventh when he was as fast asleep as Cole, who was 
 snoring stertorously in the next cubicle. 
 
AFTER THE PARTY 143 
 
 Ormsby's guardian angel was, however, far from 
 being idle on this night, and presently Joe, who as 
 a rule slept without a break until he was called, gave 
 a groan which ended in a grunt and was wide awake, 
 To prevent the possibility of going to sleep again, 
 he got out of bed and put on his trousers. 
 
 It seemed to him that he must have been asleep for 
 hours, but to make sure he struck a match and looked 
 at his watch. The only information, however, that 
 he obtained was that his watch had stopped when he 
 had wound it up. Unlike most watches Joe's dis' 
 liked being wound up, but he was as little discouraged 
 as he was surprised to see that it had behaved in its 
 usual rebellious way. 
 
 * What's the good of knowing the time ? ' he asked 
 himself, and having put on a coat and socks he picked 
 up the pocket-book and crept into the dormitory. 
 
 Once and once only had he been by the way he 
 now intended to go, but by what he considered a 
 miracle he remembered it. Usually he came to his 
 dormitory by stairs leading from the boys' side of 
 the house, but on one occasion — some nights before— 
 Mrs. Max had wanted to speak to him, and afterwards 
 had shown him the way by which Max could enter 
 the dormitories. 
 
 ' Quo citius eo melius,' Joe thought, and found 
 time to wonder why a horrible Latin tag should stick 
 in his brain when he was engaged upon such a pe^ 
 culiarly unpleasant mission. 
 
 Slowly he shuffled out of his dormitory, and opened 
 the door of the one opposite. This dormitory was 
 called ' The Eighteen,' and for the steady breathing 
 that was coming from most of the cubicles Joe was 
 more than duly grateful. He knew that he had to 
 go round a corner, turn to the left, and walk straight 
 to the end of the dormitory, where he would find a 
 
144 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 door. But in the dark he took the comer too abruptly, 
 and bumped his forehead resoundingly against > a 
 cubicle. The pocket-book fell from his hand, and he 
 stood shiveringly expectant that someone would 
 bounce out of the cubicle and ask him what he was 
 doing. All, however, that happened was that one 
 fellow moaned as if he was in pain, and another, 
 talking in his sleep, exclaimed : ' Well played ; go 
 like blazes, pass to me, and I'm in for a dead cert.' 
 Even in their sleep some of the Maxites continued 
 their daily occupation of getting tries. 
 
 This familiar jargon gave Joe's nerves a much- 
 needed tonic, and he sat down quietly on the floor 
 and groped about for the pocket-book until he had 
 found it. Then he went round the corner on his 
 hands and knees, and began almost to enjoy himself. 
 The next stage in his journey was easy, but he had 
 a dreary moment when he reached the end of the 
 dormitory and realized that the door into Max's part 
 of the house might be locked. That fear, however, was 
 quickly removed, and he found himself standing on 
 the top of the stairs. At the bottom of them a light 
 was burning in the hall, but this he considered rather 
 a piece of good fortune. Someone had evidently 
 forgotten to turn it out, or possibly it was left there 
 on purpose. He remembered that his mother Uked 
 to leave a light burning in some part of Mai4en Croft, 
 because she thought that burglars would be frightened 
 by it. He could not imagine Max being frightened 
 by ten thousand burglars, but perhaps Mrs. Max. . . . 
 
 He was in the hall, and stopped suddenly. If it 
 had not been the middle of the night he would have 
 felt certain that someone was talking in Max's study 
 on the right. Panic again seized him, and without 
 waiting to listen he ran noiselessly along the hall 
 and into the drawing-room on his left. The room 
 
AFTER THE PARTY 145 
 
 was dimly lighted by the embers of a wood-fire, and 
 Joe, dodging quickly between chairs and sofas, placed 
 the pocket-book on the table from which Ormsby 
 had taken it. 
 
 Then without stopping to listen, and indeed without 
 thinking of anything except the extreme necessity 
 of returning to his cubicle at top speed, he ran into 
 the hall and straight into the arms of Bingo, who was 
 being helped into his coat by Max. 
 
 * Well, Fm ' Bingo exclaimed, and remembered 
 
 just in time that Max was behind him. 
 
 * I never expected to see you,' Joe stammered after 
 a pause that seemed unending. 
 
 * That I can easily believe,' Max remarked, and laid 
 Bingo's coat upon a chair. 
 
 Now that Joe was face to face with a crisis he was 
 neither terrified nor even afraid, but he did feel, as he 
 himself expressed it afterwards, * a most fearful ass.' 
 
 * This wants inquiring into/ Max said unneces- 
 sarily, and then added : * Supposing we all go into 
 the drawing-room, I think the clue to the mystery 
 will be found, or possibly not found, there.' 
 
 * What on earth are you doing ? ' Bingo asked Joe, 
 but the latter only smiled, and whispered : * Don't 
 get in a bait ; it will be all right.' 
 
 Just how it was going to be * all right ' Joe did not 
 quite know, but this campaign, at any rate, was going 
 to begin with a mighty surprise for Max, and that 
 was enough for the moment. 
 
 In procession they marched into the drawing- 
 room, Max leading with a lighted candle, then Bingo, 
 and lastly Joe, who had an insane desire to pull his 
 brother's coat-tails. 
 
 The meaning of these proceedings was totally un- 
 known to Bingo, but he succeeded in going through 
 them with a solemnity that made Joe want to laugh 
 
146 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 aloud. The processipn drew up at the table devoted 
 to photographs, and Joe moved forward so that he 
 should not miss the sight of his housemaster's face. 
 Max, however, did not betray any astonishment even 
 if he felt it, for he merely picked up the pocket-book, 
 and asked Bingo if he had seen it before. With an 
 air that would have made many a detective jealous 
 Bingo examined it, and then said : * I believe Pads 
 used to have a thing like this. It's neither one thing 
 nor the other. It's a sort of cross between a leather 
 case and a pocket-book. I expect he gave it to Joe/ 
 
 ' He did,' Joe said briefly. 
 
 Whereupon Max examined the inside of the hetero- 
 geneous article, and then his eyebrows twitched, 
 and he frowned fiercely at Joe. 
 
 ' Now, perhaps you will explain,' he said. 
 
 ' I can't,' he replied. 
 
 * Did you come here to get this ? ' Max asked im- 
 patiently, and held the pocket-book up before Joe. 
 
 * No, I didn't,' was the answer. 
 
 * Then why did you come ? ' 
 
 ' I came, I came . . , because I wanted to come. 
 I didn't come to do any harm to anybody,' Joe re- 
 plied, and no longer wished to pull Bingo's coat-tails, 
 
 ' Do you hear that ? ' Max asked Bingo. ' What 
 is to be done with such a boy ? ' 
 
 And then Bingo was struck with an idea, for which 
 he subsequently demanded more credit from Joe 
 than he got. 
 
 ' He walks in his sleep,' he said. ' X expect he just 
 walked here and then woke up. I remember the mater 
 being anxious about it years ago.' 
 
 * Do you walk in your sleep? ' Max asked Joe, 
 ' Not that I know of.' 
 
 ' You did once,' Bingo said emphatically, ' I am 
 absolutely certain you did.' 
 
AFTER THE PARTY 147 
 
 ' rd eaten lobster for supper, and I only fell out 
 of bed. The nurse got into a row/ Joe remarked. 
 
 ' Do you think you were walking in your sleep 
 to-night ? ' Max asked him. 
 
 ' No/ Joe replied. 
 
 ' It's your good dinner, sir ; he ought to be tied up 
 in bed,' Bingo hastened to say. 
 
 For a minute Max stood by the little table and 
 looked sternly at the culprit ; while Bingo, from some 
 protective feeling which was foreign to his nature, 
 poured forth reasons for Joe's sudden appearance. 
 
 * I am not satisfied,' Max said at last, ' very far 
 from being satisfied, but you had better go back to 
 your dormitory.' 
 
 ' Thank you, sir/ Joe replied, and turned towards 
 the door. 
 
 But he had hardly started on his return journey 
 when Max called him back. 
 
 ' Whatever is the real reason why you came here, 
 1 disbelieved you once about this thing, and I won't 
 again. Take it/ he said, and handed the pocket- 
 book to Joe. * I meant to give it back to you to-night, 
 and forgot all about it,' he added. 
 
 ' Thank you, sir,' Joe repeated, and a huge smile 
 of gratitude and surprise beamed over his face. 
 * ^ * * * » 
 
 * So far I am very disappointed with your young 
 brother,' Max said when he was again saying good- 
 bye to Bingo. 
 
 ' He's always been a freak,' Bingo admitted ; ' but 
 a year or two here will put him straight.' 
 
 ' He's very obstinate, and has ideas,' Max went 
 on, and his look of distress was remarked by Bingo. 
 
 ' Squash them, sir ; we can trust you to do that,' 
 he replied, and he meant to be complimentary. 
 
CHAPTER X 
 
 BINGOISM 
 
 Completely bewildered by Max's generosity Joe 
 hurried back to bed, and wondered how he should 
 explain to Ormsby that they need no longer dissi- 
 pate the contents of the pocket-book by writing to 
 straj^ relations. He could not imagine what he should 
 say to Ormsby, who would — to put it mildly — be very 
 disappointed at being deprived of his * single ' with 
 Max. ' Perhaps the best thing will be to say nothing 
 at all,' Joe decided, and promptly went to sleep. 
 
 At Granby, Sunday morning with its extra hour 
 for sleep was welcomed by most of the school. Ormsby, 
 however, could never spend this extra hour in bed, 
 because he had got into the habit of waking up at a 
 fixed time, and directly he was awake he wanted to 
 do something. 
 
 No sooner was he awake on this Sunday morning 
 than he went to have a look at Joe, but the latter 
 was sleeping so soundly that he was kind enough 
 not to disturb him. He looked at the pocket-book 
 which was lying on Joe's washstand, grinned largely, 
 and retired into his own cubicle to read. For ten 
 minutes his book engrossed him, and then the thought 
 occurred to him that he would inspect every cubicle 
 in turn, and see what the occupants looked like when 
 they were asleep ; but the only thing that engaged 
 
 14S 
 
BINGOISM 149 
 
 his attention for more than a few seconds was Harper's 
 Adam's apple. 
 
 Very soon he was back again in Joe's cubicle, and 
 gazing steadily at the sleeper. At this time he con- 
 sidered himself as unsentimental as a grasshopper, 
 but all the same he had an affection for Joe so dif- 
 ferent from the ordinary, careless feeling which he 
 had for the rest of his schoolfellows, that it sometimes 
 surprised and even irritated him. Joe, in fact, seemed 
 too good to be true. Instead of bragging continually 
 about what his brothers had done and of what he was 
 going to do, giving himself innumerable airs and dis- 
 daining the friendship of the fellow who happened 
 to share his room, Joe refused to take the smallest 
 advantage of his name, was so modest that he seemed 
 to be almost unnatural, and had already shown in 
 frequent little ways that he considered Ormsby his 
 greatest friend in the house. 
 
 * It's nearly getting-up time,' he said at last, and 
 sat down plumpingly on the side of the bed. 
 
 * It's you again,' Joe mumbled, and rubbed his 
 eyes wearily. Then he sat up^ saw the pocket-book, 
 and smiled. 
 
 * That's better,' Ormsby told him; * you were as 
 glum as a sick hen last night.' 
 
 * I was thinking that you'd get into an awful row,' 
 Joe replied, and realized at once that this was not 
 the kind of thing he had better say. 
 
 * I Hke rows ; at least, I want one with Max. Until 
 you've had a bust-up with a beak, you don't know 
 what he's made of. I thought Ridley was as mild 
 as butter until I stirred him up. I can't stand a 
 mild beak ; he's an anachronism.' 
 
 ] A what? ' 
 
 * It's another word for a misfit, but it's probably 
 not the right one. It's the sort of word you'll have 
 
150 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 poured all over you when you come to stay with 
 me/ 
 
 ' But it's no use having a row with Max if you can 
 help it, because you know he's not mild. He's a 
 mixture,' Joe added, 
 
 ' I can't help it now,' Ormsby returned promptly, 
 ' and anyhow I'm keen on mixtures ; I want to see 
 how they are made. I'm jolly glad now that I boned 
 your bulhon; it will just show Max that I'm not 
 scared of him/ 
 
 * I don't suppose he thinks that you are,' Joe said. 
 
 ' For that matter I don't suppose he thinks about 
 me at all, but this ought to make kim. It's rather 
 funny that while I do nothing but jaw about Max, 
 he has probably forgotten that I was ever born/ 
 
 ' Let's give him a rest,' Joe advised, 
 
 ' After this is over we'll have a committee meeting, 
 and decide what to do with him and this bullion/ 
 
 ' I shan't spend it on writing to any relations,' 
 Joe said emphatically, 
 
 ' I should think not,' Ormsby agreed at once ; 
 * that was a perfectly mad idea. Let's see how much 
 there is in this pocket-book, then if Max bags it again 
 we can send him a bill. That would be a splendid 
 wheeze/ 
 
 ' Spread it out on the bed,' Joe said, 
 
 'Two shillings' worth of penny stamps,' Ormsby 
 began, ' one bob in halfpenny stamps, a twopenny- 
 halfpenny stamp which looks as if it had been out in 
 the rain — -still it counts.' 
 
 * Three and twopence halfpenny,' Joe recorded, 
 
 * A packet of postcards, two foreign postcards, 
 and I'm blessed if there aren't three newspaper- 
 wrappers. It's a regular fit-out.' 
 
 ' Put that Ipt at sixpence. How about the postal 
 order ? ' 
 
BINGOISM 151 
 
 Ormsby opened it, and then looked at Joe. ' Guess/ 
 he said. 
 
 ' Half-a-crown ? ' 
 
 ' More/ 
 
 'Five bob?' 
 
 ' More/ 
 
 ' You're rotting/ 
 
 ' Vm not/ 
 
 ' Ten bob ? ' 
 
 ' More/ 
 
 ' Let me look/ 
 
 Ormsby passed it to Joe. 
 
 ' A blooming sovereign/ the latter said. ' Pads is 
 a decent sort/ 
 
 * Your relations beat mine into a cocked-hat in the 
 way of tips ; all of mine are too afraid of my father 
 to tip me. Not that I mind. If my uncle Gilbert 
 tipped me, I know I should want to hit him ; he's a 
 director/ 
 
 ' What difference does that make ? I shall write 
 to Pads to-day, we were absolutely stumped until 
 this came,' Joe said. 
 
 ' Rather ; you'll have to write to him. It makes 
 all the difference,' Ormsby went on. ' He's pompous, 
 he's directed something or other ever since he hopped 
 out of his cradle, he told me that himself. Now he's 
 chairman of about a hundred different companies, 
 and when he comes to stay with us my father always 
 greets him with : " Not in prison yet, Gilbert ? " 
 It's the only joke he has ever made, and it simply 
 makes Uncle Gilbert furious/ 
 
 ' I don't wonder,' Joe remarked, and then the bell 
 rang. 
 
 * * * ♦ ♦ ♦ 
 
 If any new boy at Granby wanted to know who was 
 really a ' school-blood ' and who was not, an ample 
 
152 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 chance to satisfy his curiosity was offered to him on 
 Sunday mornings. For after chapel the swells of 
 Granby laid aside all house jealousies and quarrels, 
 and arm-in-arm marched across the playing-fields 
 in a long line. 
 
 To most squeaklings this was an awesome spectacle, 
 though Ormsby had no sooner gazed upon this impos- 
 ing sight than he had called it ' The Cart-Horse 
 Parade.' For this exhibition of bloodship he pro- 
 fessed a most withering contempt, and one of the 
 first reasons why he took a cordial dislike to Bingo 
 was because the latter had organized it into a formal 
 march. Joe merely accepted it as a display in which 
 he neither expected nor wanted ever to take a part — 
 there was too much of the ' public-eye business ' 
 about it for him ; but Ormsby could never see it 
 without suggesting that they should walk straight 
 through it, break it up, and be hounded by the whole 
 pack round the playing-fields. 
 
 The way in which fellows were selected to take part 
 in this triumphal march was more than a little in- 
 definite. Without certain obvious ' bloods ' it would, 
 of course, have been as inglorious a sight as a Derby 
 parade of cab-horses and mules ; but how fellows who 
 were little gods in their own houses, though as yet 
 unpedestalled in the school, managed to join * The 
 Line,' was unknown to the squeaklings. 
 
 During the last year Palmer, West, and Armitage 
 had been prominent members of * The Line,' and when 
 Rose had returned to Granby for this term he had 
 felt certain that he should be asked to join it. Every 
 Sunday he had walked up to chapel with the impor- 
 tant trio, had given them broader and broader hints, 
 and had hung about after chapel waiting for the in- 
 vitation that had not been given. 
 
 This lack of pubHc recognition was an enormous 
 
BINGOISM 153 
 
 fly in Rose's ointment, and with Bingo's arrival he 
 determined that it should be removed. Bingo at- 
 tended chapel in a suit of the most * daring ' clothes 
 that had ever found a place in a Granby stall. Of 
 these garments it is enough to say that they were 
 noticed by everyone, and that when Joe caught sight 
 of them during the Psalms, he was so amazed that the 
 First Lesson had reached its second verse before 
 one of the fellows next to him pulled him to his seat. 
 The remainder of the service was entirely useless as 
 far as Joe was concerned. He had made an exhibi- 
 tion of himself, and the almost inaudible titter that 
 he noticed as he sat down seemed to him to increase 
 in volume as he thought of it. 
 
 Rose, however, looked at Bingo with undiluted 
 admiration, and as soon as chapel was over he fas- 
 tened on to him with the tenacity of a leech. If he 
 missed this chance Rose knew that * The Line ' might 
 be deprived of his presence for the rest of this term. 
 He did not dare to take Bingo's arm at once and settle 
 the matter one wa}^ or the other, for that glorious 
 limb was by right reserved for those more quahfied 
 than he was to grasp it. But, in spite of the buzzing 
 crowd of bloods roimd Bingo, he kept his place and 
 finally received his reward. 
 
 When * The Line ' was at last formed Bingo looked 
 round, and saw Rose standing behind him. ' Tack 
 on at the end,' he said to his parasite, and Rose tacked 
 on as quickly and firmly as he could. Nevertheless 
 it was not the triumph that he had anticipated ; the 
 fellow whose arm he had perforce to take was an 
 abrupt Frenshamite, who replied to Rose's mellif- 
 luous remarks in monosyllables or not at all. Fre- 
 quently, indeed, this ungracious fellow got rid of 
 Rose's arm altogether under the pretext that he wanted 
 to blow his nose, and when Rose foolishly asked him 
 
154 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 if he had got a cold, he replied : ' No, I blow my nose 
 for fun.' 
 
 Unfortunately for Rose, he had tacked on to a 
 fellow who detested the sight of him, and who never 
 in the course of a strenuous life had disguised his 
 feelings. 
 
 The satisfaction that Rose gained from his first 
 appearance in ' The Line ' was solely derived from the 
 fact that anyone who had once joined could always 
 join it again, and from the glory of walking back to 
 the house with Bingo and a few real bloods. 
 
 * Will you come to my room ? ' Rose asked Bingo, 
 as soon as they were in Max's, 
 
 'In a minute; I want to speak to my minor,' 
 Bingo replied, and went straight to Joe's room. 
 
 At the moment of his entrance Ormsby was trying 
 to put Bingo's clothes in the best possible light, for 
 Joe was nearly mortified to tears by their splendour* 
 But as soon as Ormsby came ' right up against them.' 
 he gave a kind of choking gurgle, and then fled head- 
 long from the room. 
 
 ' Is that fellow mad ? ' Bingo asked, and after he 
 had hitched up his trousers carefully he sat down, 
 
 ' Not especially,' Joe replied, 
 
 ' Then why does he make such loathsome noises, 
 and bolt like a rabbit ? ' 
 
 * Your clothes— he's scared by their colour.' 
 ' They're the latest colour,' Bingo asserted, 
 
 * But they want a bit of getting used to,' Joe added, 
 Bingo looked at his trousers, and was evidently 
 
 pleased with them. 
 
 ' What the blazes were you poking about in Max's 
 part of the house for ? ' he asked suddenly. 
 
 ' I thought you'd come to ask that,' Joe replied, 
 but he showed no inclination to answer the question, 
 
 ' If I hadn't thought of that sleep-walking yarn. 
 
BINGOISM 135 
 
 you'd have caught it pretty hot. It's not the sort 
 of thing Max expects one of us to do ; it looked to me 
 as if you were prowHng about after that pocket- 
 book.' 
 
 ' I wasn't,' Joe said very quietly. 
 
 * Then what on earth were you doing ? ' 
 
 ' I'm not going to say-— it isn't worth talking about*' 
 
 * It certainly isn't ; you may bet I'm not going to 
 talk about a brother of mine prowling about like a 
 thief in the night.' • 
 
 ' That's all right then/ Joe said, and he was SO re- 
 lieved to hear that Bingo Was not to proclaim this 
 adventure that he looked exasperatingly unashamed. 
 
 * I'm blowed if it is all rights though,' Bingo went on. 
 * How did your pocket-book get into Max's drawing- 
 room ? ' 
 
 ' He bagged it ages ago/ 
 
 ' And you mean to say that you weren't looking 
 for it?' 
 
 ' I was not looking for it,' Joe replied^ 
 
 'If anyone else told me that I should say it was a 
 lie,' Bingo declared, and Joe was intensely surprised 
 to hear anything so complimentary, 
 
 ' I'm glad you believe me,' he said sincerely. 
 
 ' I can't help believing, but I'm blessed if I under- 
 stand what you're up to. Max and I had a talk after 
 the others had gone last night, and he's pretty sick 
 about you. Don't yon begin treading on Max's 
 tail ; it's all your Own fault if you put his back up. 
 He seems to think a lot of this Ormsby fellow* What 
 sort of a chap is he ? ' 
 
 ' Does Max think a lot of Ormsby ? ' Joe returned, 
 and began to smile. 
 
 ' A precious lot more than he does of you. He says 
 Ormsby will train into a first-rate athlete ; he's very 
 keen on him.' 
 
156 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 At this Joe broke out into a series of chuckles, 
 and the sound of them exhausted Bingo's patience., 
 
 ' YouVe got to buck up/ he said impatiently, 
 ' and remember that we shall all be disgraced if you 
 are going to make a silly ass of yourself. Rose tells 
 me he has been trying to push you on, and that you 
 don't seem to like it. Palmer says you seem a decent 
 sort of kid, but he thinks you are rather slack. The 
 only fellow who has a good word to say for you is 
 Armitage.' 
 
 ' What does he say ? * 
 
 * Armitage always has been a freak.' 
 
 ' But what does he say ? ' Joe asked again. 
 
 ' He pretends to admire your bloated independ- 
 ence. What he means is that you are idiotic enough 
 to forget that you are a Rumbold, and that everything 
 can be as easy for you here as falling off a house, 
 if only you'll stick your back into it.' 
 
 ' I'm getting on all right.' 
 
 * How ? ' Bingo asked scornfully. 
 
 * Oh, I don't know,' Joe replied. ' I've been top 
 of my class five weeks out of six, and I've been to break- 
 fast with Mr. Ridley.' 
 
 ' Ridley ! He's an old woman ; he plays squash- 
 rackets and is about as much use at cricket as a 
 dancing dog. He's not the sort of master you ought 
 to be friends with.' 
 
 Joe at last began to be really amused. ' What 
 masters would you advise ? ' he asked. 
 
 * There's Thorpe, he's a double-blue, and as keen 
 as mustard. Billy Musgrave, a top-hole chap ; no 
 nonsense about him. Sally Lunn, he's about as good 
 a bowler on a sticky wicket as Blythe or any of them. 
 Sayer, Lee, Ashworth — they can all do something, 
 but Ridley's a rotter. I was *' up to him " f or a term 
 — and I know.' 
 
BINGOISM 157 
 
 Bingo stood up as he finished speaking, and, per- 
 haps luckily, did not notice that Joe was laughing. 
 That a scholar at Granby counted for nothing, Joe 
 already knew ; but that the worship of athletics 
 should be passed on to the masters tickled his sense 
 of humour to such an extent, that only with the great- 
 est difficulty could he prevent himself from giving 
 a loud Rumboldish guffaw. 
 
 * Well, IVe got to go back to Cambridge this after- 
 noon, so ril say *' good-bye," ' Bingo continued, 
 ' and if those miserable Old Whitburians hadn't 
 scratched yesterday and left the 'Varsity without a 
 match, I shouldn't have been here. You may thank 
 your stars that I came. Pull yourself together, and 
 remember what IVe said.' 
 
 * I shan't forget it,' Joe assured him. 
 
 ' You ought really to get your first house colours 
 this term,' Bingo said, as he opened the door; * both 
 Pads and I did.' 
 
 * I haven't the ghost of a chance.' 
 
 * I'll speak to Palmer about it. Good-bye,' Bingo 
 returned, and left Joe profoundly hoping that Palmer 
 would take no notice of Bingo's interference. 
 
 ¥r * * * * * 
 
 There was, however, at least one definite result 
 from Bingo's visit, for Rose, flushed by his success 
 in joining * The Line,' gave notice to the squeaklings 
 that the house-singing would take place in their dor- 
 mitory on the following Saturday night. And this 
 information was received with all the more indig- 
 nation because most of the new boys had forgotten 
 that such an ordeal was awaiting them. 
 
CHAPTER XI 
 
 VOICES 
 
 The fixing of the evening on which he would have to 
 sing prevented Ormsby from wondering incessantly 
 when Max would find out that the pocket-book had 
 disappeared. More than once Joe was on the point 
 of confessing what had really happened, but Ormsby 
 was so delighted to have done this daring deed that it 
 seemed almost a crime to disillusion him. Ormsbv, 
 Joe had already discovered, was as eager to give as 
 he was unwilling to receive, and though his gifts 
 were often so eccentric that they caused more pain 
 than pleasure, it was impossible not to recognize his 
 liberality. 
 
 Not only was Ormsby ready to share his money 
 (if he had any) with Joe, but if he was in the mood to 
 work he professed to consider it a shame that he alone 
 should profit by his industry. His proses, verses— 
 in fact, all the work he did — were entirely at Joe's 
 disposal, and some weeks passed before he was finally 
 convinced that Joe's views on such matters were 
 incorruptible. 
 
 ' Everything is run nowadays on a profit-sharing 
 system, or if it isn't it ought to be,' he argued ; ' and 
 while you are thinking you're honest, you are only 
 as out of date as a jam-pot with a hole in it.' 
 
 ' What you want to do is to help me, and not to 
 
 158 
 
VOICES 159 
 
 be helped yourself. That's a funny way of profit- 
 sharing, or whatever you call it/ Joe declared. 
 
 Ofmsby thbught over this statement for a minute, 
 and theii gaily admitted that it was true. ' I sup- 
 pose that is about it/ he said. ' I'm honest myself, 
 and want to make everyone else a fraud. It seems 
 to me that I'm a fair specimen of a blackguard/ 
 
 ' I shouldn't worry about that/ Joe told him. 
 
 ' 1 shan*t/ he answered immediately^ * I shall re- 
 pent, and wear a hair-shirt next my skill. I shall 
 put in an order for a hair-shirt, and when Mbx asks 
 me why I Want it, I'll say it must be either that or 
 sackcloth.' 
 
 As usual, Ormsby had no sooner thought of this 
 way of coming to close quarters with Max than he 
 forgot all about it. The day when ' orders ' were 
 allowed to be put in had to be Waited for, and by the 
 time it arrived Ormsby found himself face to faC6 
 with the fact that he had got to sing or— so Temperley 
 told him— be tossed in a blanket. 
 
 On the evening after Bingo's departure from Granby, 
 Ormsby sat in his room and pondered over Rose's 
 announcement, and the more he thought of it the more 
 anxious did he become to prepare himself for the 
 approaching ordeal. 
 
 * I've been wanting you badly for the last ten 
 minutes,' he said when Joe appeared ; ' we'd better 
 have a rehearsal.' 
 
 ' What of ? ' Joe asked. 
 
 * Do you want to bump your nose against a ceiling ? 
 I'm blowed if I do.' 
 
 ' Bingo ought to be tossed in a blanket/ Joe re- 
 marked. 
 
 ' We*d better stop thinking about him, and think 
 about ourselves for a bit. I'd rather walk the plank 
 than be tossed in a blanket. If we were living in 
 
i6o A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 the bad old times, I'd bribe these singing idiots with 
 pieces of eight or doubloons, or something/ 
 
 ' I believe you would still be jawing if a man with 
 a game leg was just going to beat out your brains 
 with a pickaxe/ Joe said gloomily. 
 
 * I see you are catching the spirit of the thing ; 
 you will be as right as rain in a minute. Can you 
 sing ? ' 
 
 * Yes,' Joe replied ; and if he had suddenly admitted 
 that he was a snake-charmer, Ormsby could not have 
 been more surprised. 
 
 * Not really,' he exclaimed. ' You are a lucky 
 brute.' 
 
 ' You wouldn't think so if you stayed with us. My 
 brothers don't like any of my noises.' 
 
 ' But do you play things ? ' 
 
 ' I can worry a piano and a fiddle, if that's what 
 you mean,' Joe confessed. 
 
 ' Then you must coach me. I can't sing in tune to 
 save my life, and my voice gets bunkered in my throat/ 
 
 ' Never,* Joe interrupted. 
 
 ' — When I sing,' he continued, ' and it escapes in 
 rasps. We might as well save the Infant Arkwright's 
 life, too. I'll fetch him, there's nothing like making 
 a start at once.' 
 
 Joe protested that he was incapable of teaching 
 anything to anybody, but Ormsby refused to listen 
 to these protests and fetched Arkwright. 
 
 * We've been getting up steam in the Infant's room, 
 and I've said " Ah, ah, ah " until I nearly burst, and 
 Street asked me to go. The Infant hasn't discovered 
 yet that this is a very serious business,' he said, as he 
 came into the room. 
 
 ' I don't think I can sing properly, but I've been 
 
 taught to play the fiddle and the harp, and ' 
 
 Arkwright began. 
 
VOICES i6i 
 
 ' Then you shall join our band which Joe is going 
 to conduct. I advise you to listen to every word he 
 says, unless you want to be tossed in a blanket next 
 Saturday night,' Ormsby interrupted. 
 
 Arkwright hastened to assure him that he had no 
 desire to be tossed in anything. 
 
 * And you are right enough there,' Ormsby said; 
 ' for as sure as Rose is Rose, you'd bump against the 
 ceiling. When we've got our Musical Society going, 
 we'll start an Anti-Tossing Association.' 
 
 Joe left him to talk off his new ideas, and then asked 
 what he really proposed to do. 
 
 ' You are the boss of this show ; you just tell the 
 Infant and me what to do, and we try to do it,' he 
 replied. ' You haven't heard us say *' Ah, ah, ah " 
 yet. Supposing we begin like that.' 
 
 Forthwith he proceeded to carry out this suggestion, 
 and Arkwright endeavoured to follow his example. 
 
 ' Now we've both done that, we might get a move 
 on,' he continued, and looked at his instructor. 
 
 * What songs do you know ? ' Joe asked. 
 
 ' None, absolutely none. I have an open mind, 
 but it is simply gaping for information.' 
 
 ' Don't you know '' John Peel," or " Twickenham 
 Ferry," or anything ? ' 
 
 ' I know '' J. Peel " just well enough to recognize 
 him when he is, so to speak, in the same room. I 
 should like to know him better,' he added. 
 
 Then for five minutes Joe whistled an accompani- 
 ment which utterly failed to improve Ormsby's 
 acquaintance with ' John Peel.' 
 
 * You are quite hopeless,' Joe had at last to tell 
 him. 
 
 ' That's what I expected you to say. Now that 
 you know the worst, we can really set about it,' he 
 retorted. 
 
 6 
 
i62 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 ' You've got no more idea of tune than a sheep ; 
 it's an impossible job/ Joe said. 
 
 * Not a bit of it/ he rephed ; ' you stand between 
 us and that blooming blanket. We're done to the 
 world unless you stick to it.' 
 
 Then they discussed the problem as seriously as 
 Ormsby would permit them, and Arkwright made 
 what seemed to be a very sensible suggestion. 
 
 * He can't sing, and I don't believe you will ever 
 make him/ he said ; ' but he might be taught to drone 
 a few nursery rhymes/ 
 
 * Look here, Diddums, you are talking through your 
 hat,' Ormsby protested at once. ' I'll bet Patti 
 didn't learn to sing in five minutes. Give me a chance 
 before you turn me out to drone.' 
 
 * You will have bumped your nose long before 
 you know how to sing,' Joe assured him. 
 
 ' Don't they dope or do something funny to race- 
 horses, just to get them fit for an hour or two. Couldn't 
 you dope me ? ' he asked. 
 
 Joe shook his head. 
 
 * Then let me drone. But what am I to drone ? ' 
 
 ' " Old Mother Hubbard " to begin with,' Joe 
 suggested. 
 
 After a brief attempt Ormsby announced himself 
 to be a born droner, but his audience disagreed with 
 him. Eventually, however, Joe persuaded him not 
 to say the words as if they were a piece of repetition, 
 and he was then fired with a new idea. 
 
 ' It would please them better if I didn't drone that 
 old nursery stuff,' he said, ' but made up something 
 fresh. Nothing has ever been done for Mr. Hubbard, 
 who it's any odds wanted that bone. You get on with 
 the Infant Diddums while I worry this thing out.' 
 
 In two minutes Joe discovered that Arkwright was 
 infinitely more capable to teach him to sing than he 
 
VOICES 163 
 
 was to teach Arkwright. Nothing but an outrageous 
 swindle could get Arkwright into the blanket, and 
 having convinced Joe of this, the Infant began to 
 talk about things like counterpoint, which Joe at first 
 confused with cover-point, until Ormsby, deep in the 
 labours of composition, caught hold of him and pushed 
 him summarily from the room. 
 
 On the following evenings Ormsby spent most of 
 ' prep ' in scratching his head with a pencil, and in 
 crunching up pieces of paper .and throwing them round 
 the room. Mr. Hubbard was evidently giving trouble, 
 but Joe refrained from asking any questions about 
 him. 
 
 Occasionally Ormsby would stop to say that the 
 Hubbards were silly idiots, who rhymed with nothing 
 except cupboards, and every now and then he de- 
 clared that he would rather be tossed in a thousand 
 blankets than try to write such mouldy ' tosh.' 
 Nevertheless he continued to try, and on the morning 
 of the ordeal he assured Joe that he had written 
 thirty-seven verses, and his only difficulty was to 
 choose the ones that would be most likely to save his 
 nose from being covered with whitewash. 
 
 ' I should think a dozen would be enough,' he 
 added. 
 
 ' Or less,' Joe told him. 
 
 ' Anyway, there's nothing like having enough. 
 Supposing I was encored ? ' 
 
 In spite, however, of Joe's entreaties, he refused 
 to read specimens of his composition ; and when 
 Saturday night arrived Joe was too anxious about 
 himself to worry very much about either Ormsby 
 or Arkwright. 
 
 Max was clearly considered to be in favour 
 of the maintenance of these old customs, for when 
 Palmer, West, and Rose (Armitage stolidly refused 
 
i64 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 to attend) appeared in the Junior Dormitory, they 
 brought several other fellows with them, and none of 
 them behaved as if they were breaking rules. 
 
 The audience collected at one end of the dormitory, 
 while the performers were huddled together at the 
 other end, and Joe quickly discovered that the singer 
 of the moment was expected to stand on a washing- 
 stand during his vocal exhibition. 
 
 To get a firm stand on one of these washing-stands 
 was a feat in itself, for the maker had not constructed 
 them with a view to their use as concert-platforms. 
 
 Regarding the rickety platform with a morbid 
 interest, Joe was rejoicing that he began with an R, 
 and would have the chance to see several balancing 
 exhibitions before he was called upon to perform, 
 when he heard Rose telling him to sing first. 
 
 From the beginning Rose had taken charge of the 
 proceedings, and although Ormsby kept on muttering 
 that Palmer ought to be shot for not ' running the show 
 himself,' Joe felt so certain that he was on the point 
 of failing completely that he had no indignation left 
 in him. Obediently he climbed upon the washing- 
 stand, and looked down at the hole into which the 
 basin usually fitted. 
 
 Then, after some ironical applause, he began a 
 song from * The Mikado,' and could only remember 
 half of the first verse. After an interval, he started 
 ' Take a Pair of Sparkling Eyes,' from ' The Gon- 
 doliers,' and broke down. Loudly encouraged to 
 * stick to it ' by Rose, he managed to get through 
 the first line of ' I'll sing thee songs of Araby,' and made 
 a statement that immediately turned out to be utterly 
 untrue. His memory for songs of all kinds had com- 
 pletely vanished. As he stood on the washing-stand, 
 he was only conscious of Rose's repulsive face, and of 
 the fact that he would rather be tossed against the 
 
VOICES 165 
 
 hardest ceiling than remain where he was for another 
 second. Without permission he jumped to the 
 ground, and said : ' I shall have to be stuck in the 
 blanket ; I can't remember anything.' 
 
 This unorthodox beginning to the proceedings was 
 received with considerable clamour, two or three fellows 
 declaring that Joe ought to have stayed on the plat- 
 form until he had been told to come down, and that 
 he had better go back again at once. Nothing, how- 
 ever, but the sheerest physical violence could have 
 replaced him on the washing-stand ; and in this 
 determination he was supported by Palmer, who 
 said that any fellows who couldn't sing had a right 
 to cut it short and pay the penalty. 
 
 ' He can sing ; he's got a ripping voice. Anyone 
 could tell that,' Rose declared loudly ; but this 
 announcement brought forth an unexpected remon- 
 strance from the other end of the dormitory. 
 
 * If I can sing,' Joe shouted, * at any rate I didn't, 
 and no one can say that I did.' 
 
 ' Shut up. You're asking to be tossed in that 
 rotten blanket,' Ormsby muttered. 
 
 ' And so I ought to be, if they toss anybody,' Joe 
 returned. 
 
 Street was then called upon by Rose, and the wash- 
 ing-stand wobbled ominously under his bulk. As a 
 vocalist Street turned out to be stentorian, and with 
 a gravity rivalling Webster's he bellowed a so-called 
 humorous song about policemen and cooks, which 
 pleased his audience so much that he narrowly escaped 
 an encore. 
 
 * I once knew a thing beginning : 
 
 ' " Our lodger was a nice young man, 
 A nice young man was he," ' 
 
 Ormsby said to Joe, ' and if I had guessed they wanted 
 
i66 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 that kind of stuff, I would never have been persuaded 
 to drone/ 
 
 Arkwright succeeded vStreet, and, to the dehght of 
 everyone except the Master of the Ceremonies^ he 
 began to sing ' My love is hke a red, red rose.' He 
 was getting on famously, when he slipped and fell 
 through the hole in the washing-stand, and in that 
 uncomfortable position Rose compelled him to finish. 
 
 Give, Piper, Clarkson, and Harper had all pre- 
 pared themselves, and sang glibly enough ; but Cole, 
 who was excused from standing on the platform, 
 began by protesting that he only knew two songs, and 
 that Street had sung one and Harper the other. 
 
 ' Then sing them both,' Rose told him. 
 
 At this command Cole professed to be extremely 
 surprised. ' As soon as they sang them, I forgot 
 them,' he retorted. 
 
 ' You have got to sing something,' Rose said. 
 
 * Rumbold didn't,' was the retort. 
 
 * At any rate he tried, and he's got the best voice 
 of the lot,' Rose declared. 
 
 Then Cole put his hands to his sides, and emitted 
 a prolonged and terrific roar. For nearly a minute 
 he bellowed bullfully, and only stopped when his 
 face was purple. 
 
 Even Palmer was aroused by the insolence of this 
 exhibition, but Joe wanted to pat Cole warmly on the 
 back. He did, indeed, try to congratulate the bellower 
 on having scored off Rose, but Cole was in no mood to 
 receive congratulations. He was angry with Rose 
 because of the way in which Joe had been treated, 
 and he failed to understand that Joe himself was also 
 angry, and for a precisely similar reason. 
 
 Promptly and unanimously Cole was doomed, and 
 Ormsby's name was called. 
 
 * I have/ he said, when he had cHmbed upon the 
 
VOICES 167 
 
 platform, ' been recommended not actually to sing, 
 because I have a voice that won't make the noises 
 I want it to. But I'd like to drone, if I may/ 
 
 The audience was divided upon this point, Rose 
 and some of his friends wanting to sentence Ormsby 
 forthwith, while Palmer thought that droning might 
 be allowed to pass. 
 
 ' Can you drone well ? ' he asked Ormsby. 
 
 ' Fairly well, I think,' Ormsby replied, and almost 
 fell off the platform in a vain attempt to stop himself 
 from laughing. 
 
 ' Then drone,' Palmer announced ; and Ormsby 
 began : 
 
 ' *' Lean Hubbard (Mr.) 
 Couldn't resist her, 
 
 So took to himself a wife ; 
 But when he was wed. 
 Full up was he fed, 
 
 And had a most terrible life." ' 
 
 ' Who wrote this drivel ? ' Rose asked. 
 ' I am the driveller,' Ormsby replied, and waited 
 for no more comments : 
 
 * " For when he grew wiser 
 He found that a miser 
 
 Was grudging him even the scraps ; 
 So he went to the cupboard, 
 Did gaunt Mr. Hubbard, 
 
 To grapple that bone — perhaps.'* * 
 
 ' That's enough,' said Rose. 
 
 ' No, let him go on. I rather like it,' Palmer replied. 
 
 * Thank you,' Ormsby said, and continued : 
 
 ' " But when he got there. 
 The cupboard was bare. 
 
 For old Mrs. H. had dined. 
 And the dog of the rhyme 
 Was committing the crime 
 
 Of audibly speaking his mind." 
 
i68 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 ' " Then Hubbard (the Mater) 
 Boxed the ears of the PateVy 
 
 And gave the poor hound ^ kick ; 
 But no respecter of ladies, 
 And a donor of rabies, 
 
 The dog took a piece of her — quick." * 
 
 By this time even Palmer was growing restless, 
 so Ormsby jumped straight to his last verse : 
 
 * " The end of my story 
 Is gruesomely gory, 
 
 For old Mother H. soon died ; 
 The dog — he was shot, 
 And to pile up the lot, 
 
 H. soon had a nice, new bride." * 
 
 Rose immediately expressed a complete contempt 
 for this, performance, and announced that Ormsby 
 and Cole would be tossed because they had been the 
 only fellows who had not tried to pass the test. 
 
 * Ormsby has been trying all this week. It's a 
 swindle ! ' Joe proclaimed at the top of his voice ; 
 but in the prevailing hubbub he could not get anyone 
 to listen to him. In turn Cole and Ormsby paid the 
 penalty, and since there was no chance of escape, 
 Ormsby pretended that he was anxious to take an 
 upward trip. But directly he had been released 
 from the blanket, Joe pushed himself to the front, 
 and appealed first to Rose and then to Palmer. He 
 was too eager to be very coherent, but at last he man- 
 aged to convince Palmer that he wished to be tossed. 
 
 ' You didn't make much of a job of it, did you ? ' 
 Palmer said. 
 
 ' I was hopeless,' Joe replied ; ' much worse than 
 Ormsby.' 
 
 Then Palmer turned round to speak to Rose, but 
 the Master of the Ceremonies was already leaving the 
 dormitory. 
 
VOICES 169 
 
 ' It's too late now ; I've had enough for one night,* 
 he said, and followed Rose. 
 
 The invasion vanished as quickly as it had arrived, 
 and the squeaklings were left to discuss the events 
 of the evening. That Rose's judgments were going 
 to be freely criticized Ormsby knew well enough, and 
 he also knew the value of the first word on such 
 occasions. 
 
 ' If I had got a voice like you,' he said loudly to 
 Joe, ' I should chuck Horace and Ridley, and Max 
 and Virgil, and spend all my time with old Bumble- 
 Toes.' 
 
 ' Who is Bumble-Toes ? ' Harper asked. 
 
 ' Dr. AUender, Mus. Doc, and a few other things. 
 He tried my voice once, and didn't like it,' Battersby 
 said, and began to perform on his cubicle bar. 
 
 ' What I want to know is why Rumbold wasn't 
 tossed in that blanket ? ' Cole said, and glared at Joe. 
 
 ' Then you and I want to know exactly the same 
 thing. I'd like to be tossed now,' Joe rephed. 
 
 ' It's what you deserve, but what you won't get,' 
 Cole said. 
 
 ' Why not ? ' Joe asked. 
 
 ' Because Rose would be down on the whole lot of 
 us if we touched your precious skin. You ought to 
 be put in a glass case and wheeled out in a pram,' 
 Cole told him. 
 
 At this reply Piper laughed scornfully, and Joe's 
 wish to be tossed was suddenly overwhelmed by a 
 desire to stop Cole's nagging tongue. 
 
 ' You know I hate Rose as much as you do,' he said, 
 ' and you keep on pretending that I like the brute. 
 As long as you do that, you're the biggest cad in 
 creation.' 
 
 ' You've hit the mark bang in the bull's-eye/ 
 Ormsby said. 
 
170 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 ' I'm blowed if I woulji stand that/ Piper told 
 Cole. 
 
 * You're as bad as he is/ Ormsby promptly said to 
 Piper ; ' only he's not a funk, and you are/ 
 
 ' Rumbold knows it's safe to say what he likes, 
 because he's so precious,' Piper sneered. ' Some day 
 I'll get even with him/ 
 
 ' Then do it now,' Joe retorted. ' I'm ready for 
 either of 3^ou/ 
 
 * You're a sort of pantomime hero,' Cole told him. 
 ' You know you can't hurt me, and that I should be 
 a fool to punch your head. You wait a bit.' 
 
 * I'm not going to wait,' Joe said ; but as he ad- 
 vanced to the attack, he was firmly pinioned by 
 Webster. 
 
 ' We are not going to have any brawling here,' 
 the Serious One declared. * If you want to make a 
 noise, you can sing. You haven't done it yet.' 
 
 ' He can't sing for sour apples,' Piper scoffed. 
 
 ' Can't he ! ' Arkwright said, and brought a fiddle 
 from his cubicle. 
 
 After that the crisis subsided, and Joe was in the 
 middle of his third song when Max unexpectedly 
 appeared, and told him to go on singing until he was 
 told to stop. 
 
 In this peculiar way Max punished both Joe and 
 the other squeaklings, for they were compelled to 
 stand up in a row until the end of the performance. 
 But why Max chose to share the punishment, Joe 
 could never understand. 
 
CHAPTER XII 
 
 A CHALLENGE 
 
 ' If/ Dr. Manning preached on the morning after 
 Joe had sung until he was as weary as his audience, 
 * I knew how you spend your Sunday afternoons, 
 I should have the key to all your characters/ 
 
 Sad to say, the verdict of the School upon the 
 Head's sermons was that they were abnormally long, 
 and it is a fact that throughout his life the Head had 
 suffered (and made others suffer) by not knowing 
 when to stop. In his day he had been a famous 
 three-miler, and now that his youth had passed his 
 long wind still remained, but was used for other pur- 
 poses than running. Dr. Manning fondly imagined 
 that he was interested in boys, but the truth was that 
 he was interested in the celebrity to be derived from 
 them, and not in the boys themselves. Dull boys, 
 who were not prominent athletes, only came across his 
 line of vision when he punished them. 
 
 His a^mbition, as he had once admitted in an out- 
 burst of profound indiscretion, was to keep * Granby's 
 name blazoning before the public,' and to this Mr. 
 Boyd, who was the Head of the Modern School, and 
 loved Granby with a whole heart, had sarcastically 
 replied : ' Why don't you advertise it in two colours, 
 like a patent food, and put up boards along the rail- 
 in 
 
172 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 ways with the distance to Granby instead of London 
 upon them ? ' 
 
 This had happened at a Masters' meeting, and, 
 in justice to Mr. Boyd, it must be added that his 
 temper had already been ruffled by the Head's audible 
 approval, when Max had said that a certain boy was 
 such a fine cricketer that it was a shame to send him 
 into the Army. 
 
 ' To blazon Granby before the public ' was Dr. 
 Manning's system, as far as he could be said to have 
 one. Poor Granby, which had been founded by pious 
 John King, a simple man with a zeal for education 
 and a pronounced distaste for advertisement. 
 
 As years slipped by under Dr. Manning's rule, 
 Granby had less and less cause to boast of its intel- 
 lectual successes, and the hst of Honours, which was 
 read oilt with extreme unction on Founder's Day, 
 was conspicuous for nothing except the cleverness 
 with which the Head contrived to make the utmost 
 out of the miserable material at his command. 
 
 For some years there was a strenuous fight between 
 the masters who put scholarship before athletics and 
 those who seemed to think that the class-room was a 
 troublesome, although necessary, appendage to the 
 playing-fields. Vigorously did both these parties 
 strive to influence Dr. Manning, but by degrees it 
 became quite evident that Mr. Boyd and his sup- 
 porters were beaten. When a new master had to be 
 appointed, the vacancy was almost invariably filled 
 by some young * Blue,' whose main interest was in 
 the game at which he had excelled. These young 
 men went to Granby sublimely confident that to teach 
 is the easiest work in the world, and the simplest 
 way of making a living. 
 
 By the time Joe became a Granbeian no school 
 in the United Kingdom had such a bountiful crop of 
 
A CHALLENGE ^ 173 
 
 * Blues ' as masters, and no school had such a great 
 athletic reputation. For several years boys had been 
 going up to Oxford and Cambridge practically certain 
 to be in the 'Varsity fifteens and elevens, and once 
 (before the advent of the Rhodes' scholars) Granby 
 had no less than seven old boys playing for Oxford 
 against Cambridge at Queens' Club. ' Granby and 
 Trinity,' ' Granby and University,' * Granby and Ex- 
 eter,' ' Granby and B.N.C.," and so forth, made a 
 most imposing list in the daily papers, and Dr. Man- 
 ning chuckled and Max crowed when they read it. 
 
 No one resented Mr. Cecil Rhodes's will more than 
 Dr. Manning and Max, for they considered it an actual 
 piece of poaching upon the preserves of Granby. 
 Two forwards of undoubted bulk and recognized 
 ability had gone up to Oxford in successive years, 
 and had failed to get into the 'Varsity fifteen. It 
 was a blow over which Max moaned desperately. 
 ' We won't send our best men to Oxford any more,' 
 he said ; ' they will be certainties at Cambridge.' 
 
 ' Blazoning before the public ' Granby certainly 
 was, if by the public Dr. Manning was satisfied with 
 the portion of it that treat athletics as if they are 
 the most important things to talk about and to follow. 
 But during all this time Granby was really living 
 upon its capital. Traditions, the loyalty of Old 
 Granbeians, the fact that the school had in the past 
 done its share of the country's work, composed this 
 capital, but it was already beginning rapidly to vanish. 
 
 Ten years before Dr. Manning had expressed his 
 curiosity about the way in which Granbeians spent 
 their Sunday afternoons, a boy whose name had not 
 been entered for a very long time might as well have 
 tried to go to the moon as to Granby. Five years 
 before the waiting-list was still crowded ; a house- 
 master's trouble was not how to fill his house, but 
 
174 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 how most gracefully to refuse the boys whom he did 
 not want. Two years before Granby was still full, 
 but not overflowing. Now, however, two or three 
 houses were not full, and these vacancies were spoken 
 of with bated breath, as if they were some hideous 
 disease from which the school was suffering, and 
 which would vanish if it was ignored. 
 
 When Max had to speak of these vacancies he 
 explained them by censuring old fogies like Boyd, 
 who would not move with the times. Dr. Manning 
 merely remarked that all schools had their ups and 
 downs, and that parents had far too much common 
 sense not to see that Granby turned out the best 
 athletes in the country. ' A lean time,' he said, 
 ' will be followed by such a rush that we shall be asked 
 to build new houses.' This optimism, however, was 
 far from being shared by Mr. Boyd (who would not 
 move with the times) and his party. Their finger 
 was directly upon the spot in which Granby was 
 failing ; whether they moved with the times or not, 
 they had discovered that the majority of parents had 
 at last been awakened to the fact that merely to have 
 been at a public school fitted their boys for nothing 
 in the wide world. Granted that the boys developed 
 in manliness and in many other estimable qualities, 
 they were still left without something that was of the 
 most vital importance — namely, the ability to make a 
 living. England, in fact, was growing more material, 
 more desirous to have a decided and prompt return 
 for its money, and boys were being taken away from 
 schools like Granby and sent to those which were 
 alive to what was demanded. 
 
 That was the truth of the situation, but when Mr. 
 Boyd, who was as full of courage as he was devoid of 
 tact, was asked by his supporters to put it before the 
 Head> a sound and curt snubbing was the only result. 
 
A CHALLENGE 175 
 
 Dr. Manning, following the line of least resistance, 
 had gone over wholly to the party of Max. * When 
 I require any help in the management of the school, 
 you may be sure that you will be among the first to 
 be consulted. In the meantime, my good friend, 
 let us be content to manage our own business,' he 
 said, and dismissed him with a Greek quotation, 
 which he knew that Mr. Boyd could not understand. 
 
 It was, perhaps, to Mr. Boyd's credit that he re- 
 tired from this interview not chafing so bitterly from 
 the snub that he had received, as from the fact that 
 he had been called ' my good friend.' The florid 
 unctuousness of the Head was abhorrent to him ; 
 but he was loyal to Dr. Manning, loyal inasmuch as 
 he tried honestly to suppress the mutinous spirit of 
 his supporters, because he knew that if the true con- 
 dition of affairs was once noised abroad, the future 
 of Granby would be even more ominous than it was. 
 
 So Mr. Boyd went on struggling silently against 
 the pricks, honestly endeavouring to stir up the intel- 
 lectual life of the school, giving abundant devotion and 
 service to what he firmly beheved was a sinking ship. 
 
 He was a pathetic figure, a man numbed by the 
 consciousness of failure, yet striving to retain his 
 enthusiasm in spite of his numbness. But Granby 
 passed him by with the remark that ' Old Boyd 
 seemed to be growing older every minute.' 
 
 Still, however, he went constantly to the playing- 
 fields to listen to the enthusiasm aroused by Granby's 
 athletes ; for games, he was always ready to acknow- 
 ledge, were an important part in the life of boys, and 
 if only Granby's triumphs had not been so rigidly 
 confined to the playing-fields, he would have re- 
 joiced over an inter-school victory at cricket or foot- 
 ball with a joy as sincere as Max's. 
 
 In the present condition of Granby Mr. Boyd knew 
 
176 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 that his danger lay in becoming too critical of the man 
 who was mainly responsible for the trouble. * If 
 I knew how you spend your Sunday afternoons, I 
 should have the key to all your characters/ had 
 seemed to him on this morning a monument of in- 
 sincerity ; for he knew, and imagined that every 
 boy must know, that the Head did not make the small- 
 est effort to find out how these Sunday afternoons 
 were spent. 
 
 He was still thinking over this when he left the 
 Chapel, and walked slowly towards the Big Gate at 
 the end of the quadrangle. Then, as he approached 
 the gate, he almost unconsciously stopped, and com- 
 mitted what was generally held by Granby to be the 
 most outrageous of all crimes. 
 
 * What a rotter the Head is ! ' he heard a boy, who 
 was partly concealed by a pillar, saying. 
 
 * I wish he wouldn't rub his hands together when 
 he is preaching. I can think of nothing but soap,' 
 another boy, who was totally concealed from Mr. 
 Boyd, replied. 
 
 * Did you hear what he said about Sunday after- 
 noons ? ' 
 
 ' Yes ; but I don't remember what it was.' 
 
 ' He wants to know how we spend them so that 
 he can have a key to our characters. I vote we go 
 and tell him. Let's get as many fellows as we can 
 to line up outside his room after morning school, 
 and simply bombard the man. That's a regular 
 wheeze, Joe ; it will teach him not to talk bunkum.' 
 
 ' He's got to say something.' 
 
 ' But he might talk sense. Directly I saw " The 
 Man " I thought he was a rotter ; but the more I 
 have to listen to him, the more I'm sure he wants 
 someone to look after him. So I vote we go and wake 
 him up.' 
 
A CHALLENGE 177 
 
 * All right/ Joe answered indifferently; * now that 
 youVe seen Rose safely tacked on to " The Line/' 
 1 vote we go back to the house/ 
 
 ' Rose is a blighter/ Ormsby remarked, and turned 
 round to find Mr. Boyd almost touching him. In 
 his utter surprise he added * Halloa ! ' and then took 
 off his hat. 
 
 ' Who's round the corner ? ' Joe asked. 
 
 * I am/ Mr. Boyd said, and stepped into full view. 
 Ormsby felt an almost irresistible desire to ask him 
 
 how long he had been there, but he managed to curb 
 his curiosity. The silence, however, became so over- 
 powering that he called attention to the fact that it 
 was a beautiful morning, and still Mr. Boyd looked 
 thoughtfully at him. 
 
 ' We had better get a move on to the house,' Ormsby 
 said to Joe. 
 
 ' Wait a minute,' Mr. Boyd said, and stepped aside 
 for some boys to pass him. 
 
 ' He's heard what I said,' Ormsby whispered 
 quickly to Joe. 
 
 ' I don't think he's in a bait/ Joe replied. 
 
 * You are right,' Mr. Boyd turned to Ormsby and 
 told him. * I hear a great deal that is not intended 
 for my ears. I can't help it.' 
 
 ' It must be awfully awkward,' Ormsby ventured 
 to remark, and Mr. Boyd turned from him to Joe. 
 
 ' In this case I could have helped hearing the part 
 of your conversation that was not whispered, but I 
 stood deliberately behind the gate,' he said. 
 
 Without intention Joe slightly shook his head. 
 
 * What might your opinion of this action of mine 
 be ? ' Mr. Boyd asked him. 
 
 ' It isn't quite ' Ormsby began, but was im- 
 mediately interrupted. 
 
 ' I was asking your friend,' he said. 
 
178 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 ' I don't think you ought to have done it/ Joe 
 bhirted out, and felt the colour mounting furiously to 
 his face. 
 
 ' I agree with you/ Mr. Boyd returned. ' My excuse 
 is that I was so interested in your conversation that 
 I listened without thinking.' 
 
 * We were talking without thinking. We always 
 do/ Ormsby took the opportunity to assure him. 
 
 ' That may be true of you, but I doubt if it's true 
 
 of ' he obviously stopped for Joe to supply his 
 
 name. 
 
 ' Rumbold,' Joe added, and from habit looked 
 hard to see how it would be received. 
 
 ' Oh ! ' was all that Mr. Boyd said, and looked more 
 disappointed than overwhelmed. 
 
 * My name is Ormsby ; we are in Mr. Lomax's,' 
 was the next information given to Mr. Boyd. 
 
 ' Naturally,' he said ; ' and as I am going towards 
 your house I wish you both to come with me.' 
 
 In that short walk Joe and Ormsby had to listen 
 to a very different view of Granby, and of their obli- 
 gations to it, from any they had previously heard. 
 To call masters ' rotters,' to treat them as opponents 
 if not as actual enemies, to despise them for their 
 eccentricities, and to be blind to their good qualities, 
 was, they were told, the easiest way to become use- 
 less to themselves and to everybody else. * Take 
 up a cynical attitude, begin to sneer at Granby and at 
 the Head of Granby, and you are more than half- 
 way to being " rotters " yourselves. If,' he went on, 
 and turned suddenly upon Ormsby, * you were a 
 little older, you would deserve to be shot as a traitor 
 for saying such things about the man who is the Chief 
 of this School. Give up now, and for the rest of your 
 time here, the inclination to sneer at men who are 
 serving you. Remember you are a part of the place, 
 
A CHALLENGE 179 
 
 and that it is your duty to work with all your might 
 for the good of it. Play with all your might, too ; 
 but bear in mind that your first duty is to work. Don't 
 waste the main thing Granby has to offer you, becaus(> 
 it is far easier to be content with something quite 
 secondary and unimportant/ 
 
 ' What do you mean, sir ? I don't ' Ormsby 
 
 began. 
 
 * I mean,' Mr. Boyd replied, ' that dropping goals 
 is a very praiseworthy habit, but reaching them is 
 a better one. You ought to have come here defi- 
 nitely determined to get such an education, that you 
 will be fit when you leave to take a' place in the world. 
 That ought to be your goal.' 
 
 ' I am not sure that it isn't,' Ormsby remarked. 
 
 * You ought to be sure that it is.' 
 
 ' I'll try to be,' Ormsby replied, and having reached 
 Max's house he looked longingly at the windows. 
 
 ' And what do you think about it ? ' Mr. Boyd 
 asked Joe. 
 
 ' It's all most frightful sense,' Joe stammered. 
 ' I mean I'm sure it's all right, but it's most awfully 
 difficult.' 
 
 ' So it may be, but it is worth trying for. Surely 
 it is what your parents send you here to do.' 
 
 ' I don't know,' Joe said, and then hastened to 
 correct himself. ' My father,' he added, ' is, I think, 
 most keen for me to get into the eleven and fifteen.' 
 
 It was on the tip of Mr. Boyd's tongue to say what 
 he thought of Mr. Rumbold, but with an effort he 
 Restrained himself and turned abruptly to Ormsby. 
 
 ' At any rate,' he said, ' I hope you will be a little 
 more ambitious.' 
 
 Then he left them without another word, and as he 
 walked on to his home he found himself wondering 
 whether Max would thank him for talking in such 
 
i80 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 a way to his boys, and whether it had been fair to spur 
 them on ta work when they would find such powerful 
 discouragements in front of them. * In a sense/ 
 he thought, ' it is treachery to say such things to 
 Lomax's boys, and anyhow it is waste of time talking 
 to any Rumbold, except William/ After that he 
 allowed himself one smile at the Head reminding a 
 boy constantly of soap. 
 
 Joe and Ormsby waited for a moment until he had 
 disappeared round the corner, and then went into the 
 house. 
 
 ' Well, of all the queer old birds that ever hopped 
 my way, he's the rummiest,' Ormsby said. * Isn't 
 he old Boyd, the Head of the Modern ? ' 
 
 * Yes,' Joe answered, ' and he's got a sister who 
 keeps house for him. He used to have Bonham's 
 house, but he gave it up years ago.' 
 
 * Two sermons on one morning,' Ormsby exclaimed. 
 
 * I'm rather for Boyd,' Joe said aggressively. 
 
 ' Anyway he didn't seem much for you ; he looked 
 as if he'd a pain inside when you told him your name.' 
 
 ' I know,' Joe replied. 
 
 At this Ormsby began quietly to chuckle, until Joe 
 at last was compelled to ask him to stop. 
 
 ' You tickle me bang under the fifth rib, but you'll 
 overdo it if you aren't careful. You'll get '' not 
 being a Rumbold " on the brain if you don't watch 
 it,' Ormsby said. 
 
 ' Not after last night.* 
 
 * What are you driving at ? ' 
 
 * That brute Rose letting me off, and you being 
 tossed, although you spouted your stuff bang through.' 
 
 ' Not bang through ; I had thirty-two more verses,' 
 Ormsby corrected. 
 
 ' At any rate you spouted enough.' 
 
 * More than enough,' Ormsby again corrected. 
 
A CHALLENGE i8i 
 
 * I am going to fight Cole ; it is the only way to 
 keep his mouth shut,' Joe announced. 
 
 The dinner-bell prevented Ormsby from protest- 
 ing, but during dinner he looked at both Cole and Joe, 
 and was convinced that a fight between them must 
 end in the complete discomfiture — and almost oblit- 
 eration — of Joe's features. 
 
 ' Are we going for a walk ? ' Arkwright looked 
 across the table at Ormsby and asked. 
 
 * You must take Street out for some gentle exercise 
 this afternoon. He wants it,' Ormsby replied. 
 
 ' Why can't he come with us — he always does ? ' 
 Joe said. 
 
 * Because I want to talk seriously to you, and the 
 Infant asks so many questions that he makes me 
 dizzy.' 
 
 * I've had enough serious talking for one day,' Joe 
 informed him. 
 
 ' So have I,' he agreed ; * but we have got to go 
 through with it.' 
 
 Having again told the beseeching Arkwright that 
 it was his duty to exercise Street, Ormsby hurried 
 Joe from the house before anyone else could volun- 
 teer to go with them. 
 
 * We'll steer straight for Middleton Hill, and as 
 soon as we get in the sun and out of the wind 
 we'll sit down. Then I'll talk seriously,' Ormsby 
 said. 
 
 But when they arrived at a ' sitting-down place,' 
 Ormsby found that Joe's determination to fight Cole 
 was not to be shaken. ' You'll get smashed to little 
 bits,' he told him. 
 
 * I'd rather be smashed to atoms than feel like I 
 do now,' was the reply. 
 
 Then Ormsby heard that Joe had already tried to 
 fight Cole, and was angry that he had not been told 
 
i82 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 of this before. * You keep things so blooming dark/ 
 he expostulated. 
 
 ^ There's something else I haven't told you/ Joe 
 began ; but Ormsby had jumped up to throw a stone 
 at a rabbit, and when he returned he was overflowing 
 with words. But Joe was as obstinate as Ormsby 
 was loquacious. 
 
 * Where will you fight him ? ' the latter asked at 
 last. ' You can't fight in the house ; it would be 
 stopped in half a minute.' 
 
 ' Here, anywhere ; I don't care,' Joe replied. 
 
 ' Let's go down this blooming hill and find a place. 
 We may as well do the thing decently if you mean 
 to do it.' 
 
 Joe got up at once, and ran down the hill until 
 they reached the meadows lying at the bottom. Then, 
 after Ormsby had carefully viewed the ground, he 
 selected a spot that was protected from the public 
 view by high hedges. 
 
 ' There's water in this ditch. We shall want water,' 
 he said, and then once more beseeched Joe not to 
 start on such a hopeless business. ' He's twice your 
 size ; he's got a fist like a sledge-hammer, and it's 
 pretty well a certainty that he'll knock your head 
 off,' he said. 
 
 The time, however, came to start back to Granby 
 without Joe's determination being in the least 
 shaken. 
 
 ' If you really mean it, of course I shall have to 
 see you through this,' Ormsby said. 
 
 ' Good,' Joe replied ; * the sooner the better.' 
 
 So on that same evening Ormsby, having taken 
 the matter in hand, went into Cole's room. 
 
 ' Halloa, what have I done to deserve this ? ' was 
 Cole's greeting. 
 
 ' I've come on business,' Ormsby said. 
 
A CHALLENGE 183 
 
 ' I can't lend you any money, if that's what you 
 'are after/ Cole told him. 
 
 ' rd rather borrow money from the boot-boy. 
 I've brought you a challenge to fight.' 
 
 ' Where is it ? Let's have a look at it,' Cole said, 
 and began to laugh. 
 
 * It's in my head,' Ormsby informed him. 
 
 ' Then get it out,' Cole roared ; but he received 
 this challenge with such wholesale scorn that Ormsby 
 had great difficulty in delivering it properly. 
 
 At last, however. Cole agreed to appear at 3 p.m. 
 on the following Wednesday afternoon — when there 
 was a School match, and no football for the juniors — 
 and at the chosen place. ' ^ ^ - * ' 
 
 If Joe expected to be soundly thrashed in this 
 fight, he was at any rate eager to get it over and done 
 with ; for during every spare moment of the two days 
 following the challenge, Ormsby gave him advice 
 and * tips.' ' Go in at him quick ; he'll be slow at 
 starting. Bang, bang, and out of his reach. Let 
 him run you about, and then when he's winded get 
 at him again. Keep him moving ; slip out of his way ; 
 let him beat the air. He'll lose his temper ; punch- 
 ing and missing will upset him ; and don't, for mercy's 
 sake, let him get his great fists home on your face.' 
 
 But it was a depressed Ormsby who left the house 
 on that Wednesday afternoon, with a sponge bulging 
 from his pocket. A fine and wetting drizzle was fall- 
 ing, and Ormsby felt as if he was on his way to the 
 funeral of his best friend. 
 
 ' Chuck it, Joe,' he said. ' No one can fight in 
 this weather.' 
 
 * I like a wet wicket,' Joe replied, and smiled most 
 cheerfully. Indeed, on this dreary walk Joe was 
 prevented from pondering over what might be going 
 to happen to him by the fact that his second and 
 
i84 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 supporter had sunk into a state of preternatural 
 gloom, and had to be made less doleful. 
 
 * Never/ Ormsby thought, ' had a martyr gone to 
 the stake with a more abandoned skittishness/ But 
 none of Joe's efforts could make him smile. 
 
 They arrived in the dripping meadows ten minutes 
 before the appointed hour, and stood waiting under 
 the shelter of the hedge. Two blackbirds and a 
 robin came to have a look at them ; and a rabbit, 
 undeterred by the driving rain, sat at the mouth of 
 its burrow and gazed in their direction. 
 
 * Confound the brute, staring like that ! ' Ormsby 
 said. 
 
 The Middleton Church clock struck three, and 
 Ormsby walked out to inspect the ground. 
 
 'You'd better choose to fight with your back to 
 the hedge, it's less slippery ; Fve marked it all out,' 
 he said when he came back. 
 
 * I don't believe Cole is coming,' Joe remarked. 
 
 * Of course he's coming,' Ormsby replied, and 
 then added : ' but he will be a silly ass if he does. 
 I'm nearly wet through.' 
 
 ' It's trickling down my back,' Joe admitted. 
 
 * Swing your arms about — keep warm. It's his 
 game to keep us waiting.' 
 
 Joe swung his arms about, and then, urged by 
 Ormsby, quietly exercised himself by running along 
 the side of the hedge. 
 
 * Warmer ? ' Ormsby asked him. 
 ' Not much.' 
 
 For half an hour they crouched under the shelter 
 of the hedge, and listened to the steady dripping 
 from the trees. A mist began to roll along the valley, 
 and gradually became thicker and thicker. 
 
 ' It's twenty to four,' Joe said, 'and I've exercised 
 my arms until they ache.* 
 
A CHALLENGE 185 
 
 ' We'd better go home. You've had your shot 
 at fighting him ; now it's my turn.' 
 
 ■ I'm blowed if it is ! ' Joe repHed, but his teeth 
 chattered. 
 
 ' I might have guessed he'd play some mouldy 
 dodge of this kind,' Ormsby said ; and then they 
 ceased to discuss Cole, for the fog was so dense that 
 they had the greatest difficulty in finding their 
 way. 
 
 Wet through, tired, and thoroughly out of temper, 
 they managed to get back to Max's five minutes 
 before lock-up, and when they entered the house they 
 found Cole and Piper waiting for them. 
 
 * Had a good time ? ' the latter asked, and then 
 began to laugh at the top of his voice. 
 
 * You've funked,' Joe replied, and stood stohdly 
 in front of Cole. 
 
 ' Take that,' Ormsby said, and as he spoke he gave 
 Piper's cheek a smack that sounded. 
 
 Piper went to the ground in the rush following 
 the blow, and Ormsb}^ was sent staggering to the wall. 
 But before the contest could be continued, Armitage 
 strolled through the door, and stood between Cole 
 and Ormsby. 
 
 ' What's all this about ? ' he asked. 
 
 * Ormsby hit me,' Piper replied ; and while Ar- 
 mitage was still looking at him, he added : ' Ormsby 
 and Rumbold have been sloping ; they didn't watch 
 the footer match.' 
 
 ' You dirty little sneak,' Armitage said. * What 
 you want is a jolly good licking, and if you don't 
 clear off quick I'll give it you.* 
 
 He stood in the passage until the four squeaklings 
 had disappeared into their rooms, and then he strolled 
 away. Never before had he interfered in any row, 
 but with Palmer as head of the house, and nearly 
 
i86 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 always asleep, it was necessary for someone to look 
 after things. 
 
 So on that same evening Armitage girded up enough 
 energy to see Max, and when Joe and Ormsby went 
 to bed, anxious for things to happen, they found 
 that Cole had been moved into another dormitory, 
 and that a cypher called Smythe had taken his place* 
 
CHAPTER XIII 
 
 THE SCRIBE 
 
 On the following morning Ormsby was still sleeping 
 when a most apologetic-lookii^g Arkwright appeared 
 in his cubicle. 
 
 ' I say/ the Infant began, and gave the sleeper a 
 gentle shake. 
 
 ' What's up ? ' Ormsby asked, and then, looking 
 dreamily at his visitor, added : ' Oh, it's you, Did- 
 dums. Well, Fm not at home. You oughtn't to have 
 been shown in. I shall sack my head-footman.' 
 
 Whereupon he turned over, and snored loudly. 
 
 * You told me the other day that only pigs and 
 Cole snore,' Arkwright said. ' Besides I'm ill, and 
 came to tell you.' 
 
 At this Ormsby ceased to snore, and sat up in bed. 
 ' How ill are you. Face- Ache ? ' he asked. 
 
 * I've got a temperature of 102.5,' Arkwright 
 answered, not without pride. 
 
 ' Make it no, and I'll get up. Does the 5 recur ? 
 That makes a lot of difference.' . 
 
 ' It's over four degrees above normal,' Arkwright 
 replied, * and I feel simply vile.' 
 
 ' Of course you know how you feel, but how do 
 you know what your temperature is ? ' Ormsby 
 asked. 
 
 187 
 
i88 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 ' Because I have got three dinical thermometers 
 in my cubicle.' 
 
 ' And Joe told me that you collected moths and 
 butterflies ! ' Ormsby said. 
 
 So I do. I don't really collect thermometers ; 
 they just came. I've not been to sleep for more than 
 ten minutes at a time.' 
 
 ' Then you'd better go back to bed quick and stay 
 there. I'll go and see the Matron as soon as I'm 
 dressed. I hope you aren't going to be ill, Diddums ; 
 things are going to happen, and we shall miss you,' 
 Ormsby told him. 
 
 * I feel as if I was going to die/ Arkwright said, 
 and then went back to bed. 
 
 ' I'll get up and wake Joe. He'll know what's the 
 matter with you,' Ormsby assured him ; and presently 
 he and Joe met in the invalid's cubicle for a con- 
 sultation. 
 
 At sight, however, Joe discovered that Arkwright 
 was feeling far too ill to be cheered up by Ormsby's 
 peculiar ministrations. 
 
 ' We'd better clear out ; he's got a splitting head- 
 ache,' Joe said. 
 
 * I think I'm going to die ; I feel just as if I'm going 
 to die,' Arkwright moaned. 
 
 ' I call that really ungrateful of you, after all the 
 trouble you've given me. Buck up, man, and don't 
 begin to blub because you aren't feeling quite fit,' 
 Ormsby said, and looked contemptuously at the 
 patient. 
 
 V Don't rot him ; 'he's bad,' Joe remarked, and went 
 out of the cubicle. 
 
 ' I'm ashamed of Diddums,' Ormsby said, as he 
 followed Joe ; * as soon as he gets a bit of pain, he 
 forgets he's not a baby. It's simply hopeless trying 
 to do anything for such a fellow.' 
 
THE SCRIBE 189 
 
 * Anyhow, we'd better leave him alone now/ Joe 
 answered ; but when the coast was clear, he returned 
 to Arkwright's cubicle. 
 
 ' You're all shivery,' he said. ' Here's one of my 
 blankets.' 
 
 * Thanks awfully. I'm sorry Ormsby doesn't think 
 I'm ill ; you might tell him I am,' the Infant replied 
 in a most tremulous whisper. 
 
 ' Don't bother about him,' Joe said. ' What you've 
 got to do is to get well, and not think you're dying. 
 Can I do anything else ? ' 
 
 ' I wish ' the Infant began, and failed to finish. 
 
 * Wish what ? ' Joe asked. 
 
 * If you'll promise not to teU Ormsby, there's a 
 rubber hot-water bottle hidden underneath my shirts 
 in the bottom drawer. Could you fill it without 
 anybody seeing ? ' 
 
 ' At any rate, I can try,' Joe told him ; and, put- 
 ting the bottle inside his pyjamas, he left the dor- 
 mitory. 
 
 'Thanks most awfully,' Arkwright said, when Joe 
 returned. * Ormsby found out I iilled it every night, 
 and made me promise to give it up. I don't think 
 he would mind now that I am ill.' 
 
 * Of course he wouldn't,' Joe assured him ; but 
 the Infant as an invalid was almost more than he could 
 suffer gladly. ' I'll look in again before I go down ; 
 and keep your tail up, or you'll be much worse,' he 
 added, and went back to his own cubicle. 
 
 Without doubt Arkwright, now that he felt really 
 ill, was making the most of his illness, and his voice 
 was more plaintively invalidish than any that Joe 
 and Ormsby had ever heard ; but to do him justice, 
 he had been unwell for two or three days, and had 
 made an heroic effort to pretend that he was not. 
 This he confided to Joe and Ormsby when they went 
 
igo A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 to see him again, but Ormsby was so disgusted with 
 his complete surrender that he did not pretend to 
 beUeve it. 
 
 ' I thought I'd cured you of blubbing, Ugly,' he 
 said, and made him more miserable. 
 
 But in the course of the next few days Ormsby had 
 opportunity to blame himself for being so unkind. 
 Arkwright retired from the dormitory to the house 
 sick-room, and presently was removed to the sana- 
 torium. 
 
 At first no one could find out what was the matter 
 with him, but by the end of the week it was known 
 that -both Arkwright and a Bonhamite had got scarlet 
 fever, and that the Infant was very ill. 
 
 When epidemics of various kinds had periodically 
 swept through the school, Max had always received 
 them with far more irritation than alarm. ' If boys 
 must have measles and mumps, they might have the 
 decency to get them in the holidays,' he had once 
 said to an astonished doctor ; and as the latter did 
 not hesitate to repeat this remark, Max obtained a 
 reputation for callousness that he did not altogether 
 deserve. The truth was that he loved routine, and 
 detested anything that upset the steady flow of 
 events. For minor illnesses he neither felt nor pro- 
 fessed any sympathy whatever, but if a boy in his house 
 or in the School Fifteen seriously injured himself at 
 football, his kindness was proverbial. He was, in 
 short, a man of such profound inconsistencies that 
 no small boy could ever understand him, and even 
 those who were under his charge for five or six years 
 not infrequently left him with a very indistinct im- 
 pression of what sort of man he was. That Arkwright, 
 who had not been of the smallest importance when 
 he was well, should suddenly have the audacity to 
 catch scarlet fever, made Max chafe childishly over 
 
THE SCRIBE 191 
 
 the fact that it was possible for such a nonentity to 
 upset the whole house. 
 
 ' The most useless boy we have got ; no physique, 
 and no chance of ever having any. I never gave him 
 a moment's thought until he took it into his head to 
 get ill/ he said to Mrs. Max. 
 
 The time had long since past when Mrs. Max had 
 begged him to be careful what he said, and at this 
 naive confession of neglected duty she only smiled. 
 For better or worse, to his best friend or worst enemy, 
 she had come to know that he would blurt out his 
 thoughts with a total disregard of consequences ; 
 and in a way she admired his utter recklessness, 
 though she had often to suffer for it. 
 
 ' It is silly to be angry with Arkwright,' she re- 
 plied, * for he does not want to be shut up for weeks 
 in the sanatorium.' 
 
 ' That isn't the point ; and if I am angry with 
 anyone, it is with Arkwright's outrageous parents, 
 who have never brought him up to fight against the 
 mildest germ ever hatched,' he said. 
 
 ' Mrs. Arkwright is a Christian Scientist,' Mrs. 
 Max told him. 
 
 ' As long as she keeps away from here, she may be 
 an esoteric Buddhist, for all I care,' he returned. 
 
 ' She is here already ; she came yesterday.' 
 
 ' Why didn't you teU me ? ' 
 
 * She is going to be tiresome. I think you had 
 better let me try to reason with her a little.' 
 
 ' Where is she staying ? ' 
 
 * She has taken rooms. You will have to see her 
 soon, but I will try to prevent her from bothering 
 you.' 
 
 ' It's too bad that you should be plagued by such 
 women,' Max said, ' and just when things were going 
 swimmingly. The House Cup was simply waiting 
 
192 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 for us to win ; it was only a question of hovC many 
 points we should win it by ; and now comes this 
 scarlet fever, and if any boy sneezes twice, the Matron 
 is scared to death. Supposing either Orde or Tem- 
 perley get ill* our reserve halves aren^t worth that 
 much,' and Max loudly snapped his fingers. 
 
 * You forget,' Mrs. Max reminded him, * that Chet- 
 wood, in Mr. Bonham's, is also ill.' 
 
 * He's the most irresponsible boy Who ever lived. 
 He'd get anything that is to be got, and forget that 
 he'd got it. Besides,' he added, ' he is in Bonham's,' 
 and Mrs. Max could not save herself from smiling. 
 
 ' Really,' she said, ' you are as sorry for Arkwright 
 and Chetwood as I am.' 
 
 * Of course I'm sorry,' he admitted ; ' but it is no 
 good to sit down and cry. All the same, I'll never 
 forgive these boys if we get an epidemic and lose the 
 cup.' 
 
 Scarlet fever having appeared in the school, it did 
 not occur to Max that a less serious disease could 
 also come and add to his worries. A few days, how- 
 ever, after he had poured forth his troubles to Mrs. 
 Max, boys began to be stricken right and left by 
 mumps, and one of the first victims was Orde. Ark- 
 wright by this time was seriously ill, and although 
 Mrs. Max went about her duties with her accustomed 
 cheerfulness, she had to call up all her reserves of 
 courage and strength. 
 
 Mrs. Arkwright was a perpetual nuisance, and 
 bombarded Mrs. Max with notes demanding immedi- 
 ate answers, or with visits of inordinate length. Five 
 boys in the house were * down ' with mumps, and 
 although Mrs. Max was thankful that they were so 
 few, three of their mothers were expressing totally 
 unnecessary anxiety. But Max himself was the greatest 
 trial of all, for he jumped from one mood to another 
 
THE SCRIBE 193 
 
 with even more than his accustomed quickness, and 
 in his excessive desire to ward off illness from the boys 
 in his house he moved the almost imperturbable 
 Palmer to a state of wrath and indignation. 
 
 ' We are bound to win the cup/ Palmer said to 
 Rose, * but if Max worries me much more, I shall 
 be thundering glad if we lose it/ 
 
 / He's most frantically keen/ Rose admitted. 
 
 ' He's absolutely dotty, and goes sniffing round 
 as if we were a lot of babies. I'm fed up with him, 
 and if he goes on bothering me, I shall ask if he is 
 running the fifteen, or if I am.' 
 
 * He'll probably say that he is,' Rose replied. 
 
 * Then let him ; I've had enough. I didn't come 
 here to be goaded to death,' Palmer said. 
 
 ' The trouble is with the scrum-half, now Orde is 
 ill,' Rose remarked, and gazed at the ceiling of Palmer's 
 room. 
 
 ' Savage is good enough ; at any rate we beat the 
 Grahamites by fifty-five points.' 
 
 ' But Savage was limping and useless long before 
 the end, and his knee might give way altogether at 
 any time.' 
 
 ' There's no one else,' Palmer said. 
 
 ' There's young Rumbold,' Rose suggested. 
 
 ' He's too small ; he'd be swallowed up in a 
 cup tie.' 
 
 ' He's plenty of pluck, and he's quick.' 
 
 * Well, tell him to train ; but we'll play Savage in 
 the semi-final. We could beat the Prestonites if 
 our halves had only one leg between them.' 
 
 And with this Rose had for the moment to be con- 
 tent, but by hook or crook he meant Joe to be chosen 
 to play in the final. 
 
 * * 4fr * * * 
 
 With illness hanging over the school, the last weeks 
 
 7 
 
194 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 of the term seemed to most of the squeaklings to be 
 very long and dreary, but to Joe they were far from 
 being unhappy ones. Twice a week he wrote long 
 letters to Arkwright, in which he related all the news 
 about everyone except himself, and in nearly every 
 letter the Infant was told that Ormsby had promised 
 to write in a day or two. But the term came to an 
 end without Ormsby having redeemed his promise, 
 and then on the second day of his holidays he sat 
 down solidly and tqld the Infant much that Joe had 
 completely omitted. 
 
 * My dear Face- Ache (he wrote), 
 
 ' We are all most awfully glad ypu are so mnch 
 better ; just buck up and come back as soon as you 
 can next term. If you want a change in the holidays, 
 you had better come here. The name of the house 
 is The Priory, Ledstone, Herefordshire, and its bang 
 on the top of the hills, and you can be blown inside 
 out if you want to be. Tve always been meaning 
 to write, only never got going, and Joe is such a nailer 
 at that sort of game ; but 111 bet he never told you 
 much about himself, so this is going to be all about 
 him. Take a long breath ; there's going to be a 
 precious lot of it. It's snowing, and Tve got nobody 
 to talk to and nothing to do. 
 
 ' Until after you got ill I never really found out 
 what sort of chap Joe is. I liked him all right, be- 
 cause you can't help liking a fellow who is as straight 
 as string, and nearly bursts himself with laughing 
 when most fellows would grouse like mad. But I 
 always kept on remembering that he was a Rumbold, 
 and born to be great. Every moment I expected 
 him to come out in a rash of greatness, side a bit, 
 and that sort of thing. Now I know that he is as 
 different from his mighty brethren as cheese (not 
 
THE SCRIBE 195 
 
 Max's) is from chalk. Not that all the brethren are 
 bad sorts. IVe not seen the eldest, but there's one 
 called Jumpy who came here and mouched around 
 just like Palmer — sort of half-asleep until he begins 
 playing something, and never seems to say anything. 
 Then Bingo came again a few days ago. He'd got two 
 tries in the 'Varsity match, and was awfully sick 
 with Joe. If someone walked up behind Mr. Bingo 
 and gave him a terrific boot, I should like to be there 
 to cheer. Side ! It's absolutely colossal, and he 
 thinks joe a worm, so I jolly well let him know that 
 our room was as much mine as Joe's. That didn't 
 help much, but I had to show that I couldn't stand 
 him. But the one Joe calls Pads is quite a good 
 sort. He's a bit Rumboldish in a way — seemed to 
 be overcovered with light blue scarfs and things— 
 but he isn't half such a blighter as Bingo, and he's 
 quite decent to Joe. 
 
 ' I must start on a new sheet. It's still snowing, 
 and now I've begun I shan't stop for ages. When 
 I was about ten, my father used to make me write 
 letters to all sorts of queer dead people. I've told 
 Cicero just what I thought of him, and I've pitched 
 it into both Gladstone and Disraeli pretty hot. Then 
 I've written to Tennyson, Darwin, Garibaldi, Louis 
 XIV., Queen Elizabeth, Adam Smith — that was an 
 awful job — Perkin Warbeck, Gustavus Adolphus, 
 Henty, Shakespeare, Christopher Columbus, and 
 plenty of other old chaps who never got my letters. 
 Jolly funny way of spending wet days, but my father 
 used to give me a sort of lecture, and I had to write 
 it down afterwards as well as I could, and then he 
 corrected it. Awful waste that they never got it ; 
 and what bucks me up in writing to you is that this 
 will really be posted, and I shall find out whether 
 you ever read it. I'll break you in two, Diddums, 
 
196 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 if you don't. The best letter I ever wrote was to 
 James II. ; I did give him beans. 
 
 ' However, this was all to be about Joe, but I must 
 have a holiday every now and then. Well, after you 
 were bundled into the Sanny, we had no end of a time. 
 Joe, Harper, and I went one morning to see the Head, 
 to tell him how we spent our Sunday afternoons ; 
 a sort of friendly visit, we meant it to be, and Street 
 was to have come, only he got kept in. I was to begin, 
 Joe go second, and then old Harper ; but the Man 
 looked so different in his room, and was so surprised 
 and not a bit pleased to see us, that I got hiccoughs 
 — I should say the worst hiccoughs ever hiccoughed 
 — a regular break of them. That put me clean out 
 of action. Then Joe got the giggles, and Harper 
 could do nothing but get a terrific move on with his 
 Adam's apple. The Man simply fell upon us for cheek, 
 and hcked the lot of us. He isn't half such an ass as 
 I thought him. 
 
 'Then there was this business with Cole, and I'U 
 bet you haven't heard a word about that. You 
 know Cole well enough, so it's no good me jawing 
 about him. He'd got his knife into Joe over that 
 singing job and other things, and so Joe made up his 
 mind to fight him. I was scared silly that he'd about 
 murder Joe, so I tried all I could to stop it ; but 
 when Joe's mind is made up, I don't believe a bloom- 
 ing thumb-screw would undo it. At last I tried to 
 fix up the fight in a field under Middleton Hill, and Cole 
 three times promised to come, and every time we went 
 there and waited for him. But he scored off us properly 
 and never came. Twice it rained, and altogether 
 we were about fed up. But we couldn't fight in the 
 house, for it isn't done, and someone would have 
 stopped it in about half a minute. Cole just laughed 
 whenever he saw us, and so did Piper, until I caught 
 
THE SCRIBE 197 
 
 Piper in the dormitory by himself, and after that he 
 never laughed unless he was with Cole. But noth- 
 ing really happened worth talking about, until Palmer 
 stuck up the list to play in the final cup-tie against 
 the Frenshamites. Two scrum-halves, Orde and 
 Savage, were either ill or crocked, and I was standing 
 by Joe, and pretty close to Cole, when we saw that 
 J. Rumbold was down to play. Joe simply never 
 spoke, but he blushed sort of brick-red, and then 
 began to look furious ; but Cole capped everything 
 by saying something that would get him sacked from 
 a pigstye. 
 
 * I was jolly surprised that Joe walked off without 
 a word, but when he came into our room about half 
 an hour after he was as cheerful as anything. He 
 did not tell me then what he had done, but I found 
 out soon afterwards, and though he made me swear 
 not to tell the chaps in our dormitory. 111 risk telling 
 you. 
 
 ' Well, Joe's pretty wily, though he's so precious 
 quiet, and he'd found out that if you are in a hole, 
 the chap to go to in our house is Armitage. So bang 
 down to Armitage's room he walked, and just ex- 
 plained things. He said that he wasn't going to play 
 in this cup-tie, because the only reason he was on the 
 list was because Rose had got him put there. Then 
 Armitage asked him if he was funky that he'd get 
 smashed up, and Joe said : *' No, I'm not funking it ; 
 but I expect everyone will say that I am." Armitage 
 told him that of course they would, so to prove he 
 wasn't a funk, Joe asked Armitage if he could arrange 
 for him to fight Cole. Then Armitage asked a lot of 
 questions which Joe couldn't answer, because to get 
 Cole licked wasn't what he was out for. 
 
 ' Soon afterwards, Palmer, West, and Rose came 
 into the room, and Joe had a fairly rough time of it ; 
 
igS A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 but I suppose all of them really knew that Joe wouldn't 
 have been chosen to play if he hadn't been Bingo's 
 brother, and when Rose got baity and called Joe a 
 funk, Armitage told him to shut up talking such 
 skittles. 
 
 ' " A funk," Armitage said, " wouldn't come here 
 like this. He'd pretend to be ill." 
 
 ' But Palmer was angr}^ because he thought the 
 team was settled, and he'd have to think about it 
 again ; and West said Joe was cracked, and Rose 
 stamped around and declared he'd wire to Bingo, 
 and all sorts of rot of that kind. But Joe wouldn't 
 budge, though he says he didn't know that he would 
 ever have stuck to it if he hadn't somehow guessed 
 that Armitage thought he was right. In the end 
 they decided to have a trial game in the field next 
 day, and in that game — though I say it as shouldn't 
 — I played better than I ever had before, and so did 
 Joe, who part of the time played scrum-half against 
 me. But though Joe got the ball pretty often, he's 
 lighter than I am, and got bowled over a lot. At 
 the time I didn't know what this game was for, but 
 I knew that evening when a new list was put up, and 
 my name was on it instead of Joe's. So I played, 
 and we beat the Frenshamites by thirty-three points 
 to eight, and old Max was as pleased as Punch. 
 Of course, I don't get any colours, because Orde is 
 really the scrum-half ; but I'm bound to be pretty 
 high up in the second fifteen next term, and Joe just 
 let go what would have been a jolly good start. Ar- 
 mitage told me some of this, because I suppose he 
 thought I might fancy myself too much, and I pumped 
 the rest out of Joe. 
 
 * * 45- * -X- * • 
 
 ' It is two days since I began this letter, for it didn't 
 snow yesterday and I tobogganed ; but to-day it is 
 
THE SCRIBE tgg 
 
 snowing hard again, and my pater wanted me to 
 write a letter to Euripides. But I got out of it by 
 saying I was writing a long letter to a fellow who is 
 ill ; so you, Ugly, have saved me from something. 
 
 * There were three men staying here last night, 
 all of them professors of something, and one of them 
 got a thing called the Nobel Prize. Dinner lasted 
 over two hours, and the servants kept bobbing in 
 and out, until at last, thank goodness, we got driven 
 out of the room. The youngest of this lot, and he's 
 about forty, had a queer, fishy sort of face, and a long 
 straight slit of a mouth, which he seemed to twist 
 round the bottom of his ears when he smiled. I could 
 never get really keen on such a chap, but he was 
 rather different from the usual ruck, and he made my 
 father in an awful bait by saying that it is impossible 
 to exaggerate the non-importance of almost every- 
 thing. He got simply sat upon for saying this, and I 
 know I've got it right, because during the last hour 
 or two of that awful meal I kept on muttering it over 
 and over, so that I could tell it to Joe. I mean to 
 tell it to him because he thinks *' not being a Rumbold " 
 too jolly important. It's all very well not sponging 
 on his blessed brethren, but he's neck-deep in making 
 the very least of himself, and my first job next term 
 will be to knock the stuffing out of that. 
 
 * Joe sort of went into winter-quarters until we had 
 got the cup, and then he told me, as if he was asking 
 lOr the butter, that he was going to fight Cole the next 
 afternoon. It was an extra half, and how he managed 
 to bring Cole up to the scratch is too long a story, 
 and it is only about half snowing now. Well, Diddums, 
 that Was a fight, and no blooming mistake about it. 
 I seconded Joe, and Piper seconded Cole ; but Piper 
 — silly ass ! — didn't bring a sponge or anything, 
 because he thought he'd come to see Cole wipe the 
 
200 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 floor with Joe. So Cole would have if they had settled 
 things in the room, but they fought on that old field 
 at the bottom of Middleton Hill, in a ring about as 
 big as a circus. 
 
 ' My stars, Face-Ache, I was in a funk before they 
 began. Cole seemed bulkier than ever, and scowled 
 a lot, but Joe looked as if someone had just tipped him 
 a fiver. Not that he thought he had any earthly 
 chance, only he was jolly glad to get face to face with 
 the fellow who could say such beastly things. At 
 last I had to call *' Time," and then Cole grinned. 
 So did Joe, and that was all that happened for about 
 half a minute. Cole said, " Why don't you begin, 
 since you are so precious anxious ? " but Joe just 
 stood where he was, and didn't answer. At last Piper 
 gave a cackling laugh, and that sent Cole lurching 
 forward ; but Joe slipped out of his way, and Cole 
 slipped up. Joe waited for him to get up, and then 
 hit him, *' dab, dab," pretty quick ; the first caught 
 him on the nose, and then Joe slipped out of his way 
 again like an eel. At the end of the round Piper wanted 
 to borrow my sponge, but didn't like to ask for it. 
 
 ' During the next two rounds nothing really hap- 
 pened, for Cole just beat the air and lurched around, 
 trying for all he was worth to land Joe a real one. He 
 talked all the time, but Joe never said a word, and 
 just watched him and watched him. The air got some 
 pretty fine ones I can tell you, but they missed Joe 
 by yards ; and at the end of the third round Cole 
 was blowing like a grampus, and though Joe was 
 pretty pumped he was all right long before it was 
 time to start again. Then he went in like a flash of 
 lightning — " dab, dab " — before Cole knew where 
 he was ; but it was like hitting a hayrick, and I was 
 crazy lest Joe would get too bold and be laid out flat. 
 
 'But Joe knew what he was up against, and never 
 
THE SCRIBE 201 
 
 let Cole have a chance during the rest of that round, 
 or during the fifth. And when the sixth began, 
 Cole and Piper said that it was time to settle it — at 
 least, Piper did, for Cole was so blown to the world 
 that he could hardly speak. 
 
 ' " Let him run you about another round or two, 
 and youVe got him/' I told Joe ; but he was getting 
 a bit tired of Piper's jeers, and went straight for Cole 
 as soon as I called time. That very nearly finished 
 him, for Cole landed him one plumb on the chest 
 and knocked him clean over. By a bit of luck, Cole 
 overbalanced himself or slipped up or something, 
 and went over too, and by the time he was up and 
 ready Joe was on his legs again. At the end of that 
 round I fairly let Joe have it — told him he was com- 
 mitting suicide, and all sorts of things. So the seventh 
 and eighth round only saw Cole making air-shots, 
 and blowing harder than ever. 
 
 ' After that I had a splendid time, only I was always 
 afraid that Joe would be caught in the end. Cole 
 was simply floundering about, while Joe danced round, 
 giving him one here and one there — '* dab, dab, 
 and out of his reach,'' '' dab, dab again, and away." 
 You never saw anything so* absolutely top-hole. 
 Joe just dodged until Cole had lost his wind, and then 
 towards the end of every round went in on him and 
 touched him up. By this time Piper was screaming 
 with excitement, but Cole could do nothing without 
 any wind to do it with ; and though Joe gave him 
 some fairish ones, he couldn't really hurt such an 
 enormous lump. At the end of the twelfth round 
 Joe spoke to Cole for the first time, and asked him if 
 he had had enough. " Not if you'll stand up and 
 fight," Cole said. 
 
 ' *' I am fighting," Joe answered. 
 
 * " You do nothing but run away," Piper shouted. 
 
202 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 ' " Why is Cole's nose bleeding ? " I asked, and that 
 broke off all jaw about peace. 
 
 ' But at the end of three more rounds Cole was 
 simply blue in the face, and looked as if he was going 
 to burst. 
 
 ' '* Vm ready to stop, if you'll beg my pardon for 
 saying what you did,'' Joe told him. 
 
 ' " What did I say ? " Cole panted ; and Joe jolly 
 soon let him know. 
 
 ' After that we talked a desperate long time ; but 
 until I told Piper that I would punch his head unless 
 he kept his mouth shut, we didn't get much forrader. 
 I said, too, that the fight, anyway was over, because 
 if it wasn't it ought to have been going on ages ago. 
 
 ' Whether Cole ever did apologise or not, I'm blowed 
 if I know ; but, at any rate, he said that he would 
 never call Joe any more names, and in the end we all 
 walked back to Granby together. Every now and 
 then he looked at Joe as if he would like to fall on him 
 suddenly and squash him, but on the whole he be- 
 haved rather decently considering that all the marks 
 above the collar were on his face. Joe, of course, 
 now declares that the whole thing is ended, and that 
 Cole is probably a good sort when you get to know 
 him. But I'm not so sure ; there's Piper in this 
 business, and if he begins to laugh at Cole, there'll 
 be trouble. I shall watch it next term.' 
 
 THE END, 
 
 ' P.S.— I nearly forgot to say that Joe was easy 
 top of our class, and that his mother came to the 
 prize-giving. She's about IT. Buck up and get 
 well. That I'm such a scribe is due to my father 
 making me write such long letters that I can't write 
 a short one. I am going to begin my " Life of Max " 
 these holidays. It is to be in ten volumes.' 
 
CHAPTER XIV 
 
 i 
 
 BOOK AND BRUSH 
 
 During the last few years Mrs. Rumbold had been 
 a frequent visitor to the Granby playing-fields, for 
 her sons had held tenaciously to a superstition that 
 they excelled themselves when she was present. 
 
 ' If/ Flip had once told her, when a drop at goal 
 had passed a few inches under the bar, ' you had only 
 been there, I should have dropped that goal to a 
 certainty, and we should have won the match instead 
 of drawing.' 
 
 So to do what she could to prevent such upsetting 
 mishaps, she had often been over to Granby when 
 matches were being played. 
 
 For her lack of spontaneous interest in the tries 
 her sons got and in the runs they made, she blamed 
 herself unceasingly. It was an irony of fate that 
 she, who was sprung from a family with more mind 
 than muscle, should be the mother of four sons who 
 almost openly despised the things in which she de- 
 lighted. Fond of them she was, but it would be un- 
 true to say that she was satisfied with them. They 
 took life too easily, and were — ^with the exception of 
 Pads — sublimely unconscious that duties were owing 
 to anyone save themselves. 
 
 So when Joe began to show that he was different 
 
 203 
 
204 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 from his brothers, Mrs. Rumbold was at first very 
 happy and then very frightened. Never, she knew, 
 could there have been a household in which a de- 
 parture from the family type was more likely to be 
 discouraged and scorned. Moreover, she guessed 
 rightly that Joe himself knew this. 
 
 Maiden Croft still meant home to him, because 
 he loved his mother with a love that lost nothing in 
 warmth and gained something in intensity from sel- 
 dom being expressed, and Pads he regarded as a very 
 true friend. But for the rest he was nearly an Ish- 
 maelite, a boy of no importance, one who lived at 
 Maiden Croft without altogether belonging to it. 
 
 Joe's letters from Granby had not satisfied Mr. 
 Rumbold, and his mother had listened to many serious 
 conversations about him, in which Flip had suggested 
 various means of making him interested in the things 
 that were considered to ' matter.' Scarcely a word 
 about games did Joe ever report, though in a post- 
 script to a letter, which had contained a very long 
 account of some freak of Ormsby's, he did say : ' We 
 got the cup again ; Ormsby played rippingly.' This 
 indifference to affairs of importance maddened his 
 father and Flip, and when Bingo arrived at Maiden 
 Croft, he did nothing to lessen their displeasure. 
 The time had come, Mr. Rumbold decreed, for strong 
 pressure to be brought to bear upon his youngest 
 son. 
 
 ' If,' Mr. Rumbold said at an informal conference, 
 ' Joe is doing no good at the end of a year, I shall 
 take him away from Granby. It will be better than 
 spoiling our record.' 
 
 * He'd get on rippingly in some country Vicarage 
 with a few old cats and a parrot or two,' Bingo re- 
 marked. 
 
 ' If you will leave Joe alone, he'll come out all right ; 
 
BOOK AND BRUSH 205 
 
 he's a slow starter, but hell get there in the end/ 
 Pads said. 
 
 Mrs. Rumbold smiled her appreciation of this 
 opinion. ' Isn't it rather early to judge what he is 
 going to do ? ' she asked. But the time for Mr. 
 Rumbold to judge anything or anybody was at the 
 moment when he felt judicial. 
 
 * Joe is throwing away his opportunities/ he stated 
 emphatically, ' and I am surprised at you for sug- 
 gesting that it is too early to think of taking him away, 
 when I do not believe that you ever wanted him to 
 go there.' 
 
 But if he expected Mrs. Rumbold to set his sus- 
 picions at rest on this point, he was disappointed. 
 For it was true that she had not wanted Joe to go to 
 Granby, and had not her opinion of his start been 
 totally unlike the general one she would not have 
 been anxious for him to stop there. 
 
 Only on that morning she had received a short 
 note from him, in which he had said : ' I rather think 
 I have got the prize in my class. There aren't any 
 exams, worth talking about this term — I think they've 
 been drowned by mumps — but anyway the Man is 
 supposed to hate exams., and there aren't going to be 
 any. There's a sort of small prize-giving, not a big 
 show like the summer, and I hope you will come to it. 
 Please don't tell Bingo, or he'll laugh ; but I expect 
 he'll be here for the School concert, and if he comes, 
 get Pads to come too.' 
 
 How to help Joe with his family was indeed an 
 urgent problem with Mrs. Rumbold, and she did not 
 imagine that to go over to Granby to a small prize- 
 giving was likely to lessen his troubles. Neverthe- 
 less, she firmly resolved to go, for in her experience 
 this was a unique occasion. At the athletic sports 
 she had seen Flip, Pads, and Bingo (Jumpy was only 
 
3q6 a band of brothers 
 
 a herp at cricket and football) walk up to receive cup 
 after cup, but never had she been invited to se^ any 
 of her sons receive a prize for anything except games. 
 
 Informal as this function was, and performed at an 
 ajnazing speed, Mrs, Rumbold was conscious of a real 
 thrill of excitement when Dr. Manning said, ' J. 
 Rumbold,' and Joe, pushing his way through the 
 crowd, and blushing most furiously, went up to re- 
 ceive his prize. Perfunctory cheers were awarded 
 to each boy who had to appear, but the decorum of 
 the proceedings was slightly ruffled when Joe, on his 
 return journey, was greeted by someone shouting at 
 th^ top of his voice : ' Good old Joe ! You have 
 fairly got it this time.' 
 
 For such a ribald outburst of enthusiasm to take 
 place at a prize-giving in the Big Classical was un- 
 precedented, and Dr. Manning hastened to quell the 
 laughter with which it was greeted. 
 
 ' We are not,' he said, ' attending a football match, 
 and if boys cannot restrain themselves, they will 
 oblige me by leaving, or be obliged to leave, the room.' 
 
 Whereupon even the perfunctory clapping ceased, 
 and several boys received their prizes in funereal 
 silence. But, dismal as the proceedings were, Mrs. 
 Rumbold was too happy to contrast the prevailing 
 gloom with the shouts of triumph she had frequently 
 listened to on the playing-fields, and when the last 
 boy bad received his pri^e she turned to leave the Big 
 Classical with a feeling of real gratitude. 
 
 As she moved slowly through the room, she paused 
 to read the names that were enrolled upon the walls, 
 until at last she came to a board on which she read, 
 ' Wt D. Rumbold.' There she stopped, and while 
 she was wondering whether Joe's name would ever 
 find a place on these rolls of honour, she found William 
 Rumbold standing beside her. 
 
BOOK AND BRUSH 207 
 
 ' I wonder you dare to cdffle here. You have been 
 writing the most scandalous things about pubhc: 
 schools/ she said. 
 
 ' When Ridley wrote to me that Joe Was going to 
 get a prize, I had to coine and see him get it. It 
 tickled my sense of humour/ he replied. 
 
 ' Have you seen Mr. Lomax ? * 
 
 ' IVe seen him, but he did not see me.' 
 
 ' Did he cut you ? ^ 
 
 ' Dead really, though he maliaged td dodge tlie.* 
 
 ' And Dr. Manning ? ' 
 
 'Deader!/ 
 
 ' You really ought to b^ ashamed of yourself.* 
 
 ' Why do you take the trouble to say such things 
 to me, you know perfectly well that 1 am right ? ' 
 
 ' You don't make it easier for Joe.' 
 
 * Joe is only a unit, after all.' 
 
 ' A unit ! I don't believe you have the Smallest 
 sympathy for aiiy human being. You only think 
 about schemes and beatitig a big drum,' Mrs. Rum- 
 bold said, and walked towards the door. 
 
 ' Do you honestly mean that I should shut my eyes 
 to everything wrong in public schools because Jde 
 happens to be at Gtanby ? ' William asked. 
 
 * I don^t see that it is your place to put it right.* 
 ' Whose place is it ?/ 
 
 * The governors oiight td do it— if there is anything 
 to do.' 
 
 * But suppose they afe asleep.' 
 
 * Then they can be geUtly awakened.* 
 ' That*s what I am doing.* 
 
 ' Not gently,' Mrs. Rumbold retorted, and as she 
 passed into the quadrangle she saw Joe and Otmsby 
 waiting for her. 
 
 But before she could speak to them Max wa^ by 
 her side, and doubly engaged in Welcoming her and 
 
2o8 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 in ignoring William Rumbold. The latter, however, 
 was not destined to spend the day without one en- 
 thusiastic greeting, for no sooner did Joe see him 
 than he said to Ormsby : ' My whiskers, here's old 
 William. Come and talk to him while Max jaws 
 to my mater.' 
 
 In a flash Ormsby grasped the situation, and it 
 was one that mightily appealed to his sense of mis- 
 chief. He could see Max turning his back on the 
 obnoxious Rumbold who had dared to attack public 
 schools, and he guessed that the wisest course to take 
 was to follow his housemaster's example. Not for 
 a moment, however, did he think of taking it. Joe 
 was already greeting William with more warmth 
 than dignity, and Ormsby, scenting sport, hastened 
 to join him. 
 
 While Mrs. Rumbold stood and tried to talk to Max, 
 she could hear Joe saying : 
 
 'What on earth brings you here? Not that I'm 
 not jolly glad to see you. This chap is Ormsby ; we 
 live in the same room.' 
 
 * And our cubicles are next each other, and so are 
 our desks ; but next term Joe will get a double re- 
 move, and I shall be left stranded,' Ormsby added. 
 
 * I came because I wanted to see you receiving a 
 prize,' William said so distinctly that a remark of 
 Max's to Mrs. Rumbold broke o^ in the middle, and 
 was never finished. 
 
 ' Oh, skittles ! ' Joe told him. * I've read your 
 article in that Review, and you don't think any of us 
 know anything. Besides, Ormsby could have got 
 the prize if ' 
 
 ' We have got your picture in our room,' Ormsby 
 interrupted. 
 
 ' What picture ? ' William asked. 
 
 ' The thing you painted of Granby. It takes a 
 
BOOK AND BRUSH 209 
 
 bit of getting used to, but we are awfully keen on it 
 now.' 
 
 ' It's pretty nearly all the furniture we have. Ormsby 
 had schemes for our room, and they scared me silly 
 until I found out that the more he talks, the less he 
 does,' Joe said. 
 
 * You ought to come and see our room ; it's Early 
 'Spartan. And then you'd like to see your picture 
 again,' Ormsby told him. 
 
 * I've got to be in London by three o'clock,' Wil- 
 liam replied. * I must see that picture when I feel 
 stronger.' 
 
 ' I think it's ripping,' Ormsby continued ; and Joe, 
 recollecting some of the awful reproaches that had 
 from time to time been hurled at this work of art, 
 began to giggle. 
 
 The conversation between Mrs. Rumbold and Max, 
 beset as it had been from the first by difficulties, had 
 reached its limit, but Max seemed as unwilling to go 
 as he was unable to talk. A retreat was ignominious, 
 and, additionally, William Rumbold was in the line 
 of it. So Max at last determined to stifle some of his 
 indignation, and to speak to the traitor. Moreover, 
 he was allotted ' full marks ' (by Ormsby in a whisper) 
 for the surprise he showed at seeing him. 
 
 ' Oh, how are you, Rumbold ? ' he said. ' I never 
 expected to see you to-day. We don't often have 
 a visit from you, though we hear from you some- 
 times.' 
 
 Here, indeed, was an opportunity for a pugnacious 
 retort, but William caught a signal of distress from Mrs. 
 Rumbold and ignored the chance. 
 
 * I am, at any rate, quite peaceable to-day, for I 
 came to see my young cousin get his prize,' he re- 
 plied. 
 
 * Well, I'm sure it is very kind of "you,' Max said, 
 
210 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 and then turned to Mrs. Rumbold : ' If you insist 
 on taking Joe out to lunch of course I must give way, 
 but my wife will be disappointed at hot sediig you/ 
 he added. 
 
 ' I iiever come at the end df the tetm, for I know 
 Mrs. Lomax is far too busy to want visitors^' Mts. 
 Rumbold told him. 
 
 ' Good-bye, Joe, and good luck. I congratulate 
 you on a capital start,' William said ; and Mait 
 rushed away to speak to another mastet, and did not 
 return. 
 
 ' Aren't you going to lunch with us ? ' Mrs. RtttftMd 
 dsked Williarh. 
 
 * 1 must lunch in the train ; I have to '^ti back 
 to town at dhce,' he replied, and held oUt his 
 hand. 
 
 ' It was rhost kind df you to come/ she said. 
 
 * And rather unfortunate,' William added, aiid 
 W£lited for an invitation that Mrs. RUmbold could 
 hot give. 
 
 For the last five years Williahi had spent Christmas 
 at Maiden Croft, but how Mr. Rumbold had decreed 
 that he was hever to be asked there again. 
 
 ' We've always had pity on him, because no one 
 else can possibly waht him,' Mr. Rumbold had said ; 
 ' but he'll fill Joe up with his preposterous ideas, and 
 he is disloyal td the schdol that reared him. I woh*t 
 see him inside my dddrs until he learhs more comhion 
 sense.' 
 
 So Willianl went back td town knowiiig that he Was 
 hot to have his annual fight with his cousihs, and with 
 a sense of keen disappoihtment. For he loved td 
 ruffle the complacency df Maiden Croft, and now 
 that his invitation had been withdrawn, he felt bbth 
 very lonely and very pugnacious. 
 
 ' I \visii I had never gone near the place,' he said 
 
BOOK ANP BRUSH 211 
 
 to himself in the train. ' I did far more harm than 
 good ; ' and these words were truer than he im- 
 agined. 
 
 For on that same night Max, with tho reniem- 
 hrance of Joe's dehght at seeing his cousin still smart- 
 ing, gat down to write to Mr. Rumbold. 
 
 ' If I may venture to offer a little adyiee,' he 
 wrote, ' it is that Joe should not be brought too much 
 into contact with W. D. R. Of course, William 
 Rumbold is a successful journalist, but he does not 
 confine himself to subjects which he understands. 
 I am told that he is largely responsible for this cor- 
 respondence in the papers about public schools, and 
 his article in the White Review is an indisputable 
 proof of his malicious ignorance. I am happy to say 
 that I have no complaint to make about Joe's work, 
 but in other respects he has been rather disappointing. 
 He ha^ not taken the place in the house that I ex- 
 pected him to take ; he seerns to be lacking in am- 
 bition, and to have very little ballast. To a boy 
 of his temperament I am strongly of opinion that 
 William Rumbold's influence would have nothing 
 but a pernicious effect. 
 
 ' I do not, however, wish you to think that I am 
 entirely dissatisfied with Joe, for it is possible that I 
 expected too much from him, and that he will develop 
 rapidly. He appears to be popular in the house, 
 and physically he has improved during the term ; 
 but at present he is more inclined to independence 
 than obedience, and he does not realize that the 
 discipline of the playing-fields is as important as the 
 discipline of the class-room.' 
 
 Mr. Rumbold felt explosive when he read what Max 
 had written, but he had promised that he would leave 
 Joe in peace until after Christmas, and accordingly 
 he took the letter to Mrs. Rumbold's room, 
 
212 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 * Read this/ he said. ' It just bears out everything 
 I said/ 
 
 * From Mr. Lomax ? ' she asked ; and when she 
 had finished the letter, she said : ' Poor Joe 1 ' 
 
 ' Why " poor Joe " ? ' Mr. Rumbold exclaimed. 
 ' If you go on pitying him, hell end in petticoats and 
 a thimble. What he wants is a sound talking to. 
 He wants stirring up all round.' 
 
 * I think Mr. Lomax wrote this letter when he was 
 thoroughly angry,' Mrs. Rumbold said, and went on 
 to explain what had happened at Granby. But she 
 failed to appease her wrathful husband. 
 
 ' Joe,' he said, ' is the fool of the family, but even 
 he ought to have the sense to know that Lomax hates 
 the sight of William. He has the sense, but he doesn't 
 care, so he goes and falls into the arms of a traitor 
 like William right before Lomax's nose.' 
 
 ' Mr. Lomax's back,' Mrs. Rumbold corrected, but 
 the correction passed unnoticed. 
 
 ' And then Bingo tells me,' Mr. Rumbold continued, 
 ' that Joe could have played in the final cup-tie if 
 he had liked, and he refused to play because he said 
 that he wasn't good enough. The boy is stark raving 
 mad. If the captain of the house thinks he is good 
 enough, he is good enough. That's what Lomax 
 means when he talks about independence.' 
 
 ' At any rate Joe was honest ; he told me all about 
 that.' 
 
 ' '' Honest " is what we called William, until we 
 found out that he wasn't. Why did Joe refuse to 
 play r 
 
 Mrs. Rumbold told him, and at the end he said : 
 
 ' Sheer rubbish ! If I had been Palmer, I should 
 have given him a good hiding.' 
 
 * Have you seen Joe's prize ? ' Mrs. Rumbold 
 asked him. 
 
BOOK AND BRUSH 213 
 
 * No ; where is it ? If he would remember why I 
 sent him to Granby, I should be more inclined to look 
 at it/ 
 
 * Here it is,' Mrs. Rumbold said, and handed it to 
 him. 
 
 ' Shakespeare. There are enough Shakespeares in 
 the library already, and nobody ever looks at them/ 
 he complained. 
 
 ' Still, you must be glad that he has got a prize. 
 
 ' Of course Tm glad.' 
 
 * Then you might tell him so ; he wants more en- 
 couragement than squashing.' 
 
 ' I'll encourage him all right before his holidays are 
 over,' Mr. Rumbold said, and left his wife to make 
 what she could of the promise. 
 
 She was, however, in no doubt of the form which 
 this encouragement would take, and she determined 
 as far as possible to save Joe from it. Maiden Croft 
 at present was, she felt, no place for him, for though 
 he might contrive to be happy at home, he would 
 have to fight for his happiness, and she wanted him 
 to be happy without any contriving or fighting. 
 
 So there and then she wrote to her sister-in-law, 
 and accepted an invitation for him to go to Leicester- 
 shire after Christmas. Moreover, she posted this 
 letter at once, so that the temptation to keep Joe 
 with her should be removed. 
 
 Between, however, the time when it was known 
 that Joe was going away and the day of his depar- 
 ture, he had to listen to a fusillade of advice from 
 Flip and Bingo — -advice given at high frequency, 
 but with a minimum amount of result. For he had 
 come to a definite conclusion that they were * simply 
 dotty ' on one subject, and he had ceased to care 
 what they said. 
 
 ' What is the good of arguing with fellows,' he 
 
214 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 asked himself, ' who have made up their minds that 
 I hate all games and don't like playing them ? Fm 
 much keener than they think, only Fm not half so 
 good as they are, and don't care a brass button for 
 jawing footer-shop. And I'm not going to be pitch- 
 forked into a team because Rose thinks Bingo the 
 greatest man on earth.' 
 
 The fact that Joe could have played in the final 
 cup-tie had he wanted to was continually dinned into 
 his ears ; but although he suffered during the first 
 days of his holidays from his brothers' persistent 
 attentions, Mr. Rumbold, at any rate, gave him 
 breathing-time before he attacked him. That his 
 father was angry with him Joe knew well enough, 
 but until he vv^as solemnly summoned to the library 
 he had no idea that he had so completely failed to 
 fulfil expectations. 
 
 The library was an enormous room which the Rum- 
 bolds seldom used except for festivities, and Joe 
 approached it with mingled feelings of importance, 
 curiosity, and fear. His father's hostility was a real 
 thorn in his side, and he was prepared to make great 
 efforts to lessen it ; but before this interview began 
 he was conscious of a sense of helplessness, and when 
 it had finished he felt more utterly miserable than he 
 had ever been in his life. 
 
 For Mr. Rumbold started with the conviction that 
 Joe required a rude awakening, and he treated him 
 as if he was a clerk who had studiously neglected his 
 responsibilities, instead of a small boy who was scarcely 
 old enough to know that he had any. At first Joe 
 was entirely bewildered by the parental torrent, and 
 felt more inclined to cry than to protest. Soon, 
 however, the injustice of this abuse banished all 
 thought of tears, and instead of crying he uncon- 
 trollably lost his temper. 
 
BOOK AND BRUSH 215 
 
 Flatly he denied Max's charge that be disobeyed 
 the discipline of the playing-fields, and then he went 
 on to protest that ' it was all rot ' to say that he was 
 not fond of games. And when he was accused of not 
 taking his opportunities, he replied that he was not 
 going to be ' stuck ' in a footer team just because his 
 name was Rumbold, and asked what good it would 
 have been for him to have played when he knew that 
 he was not worth his place. At one time both he and 
 his father were shouting together, for until Joe began 
 to regain his temper he fought most strenuously for 
 his freedom. 
 
 But in the end he was conquered as far as words 
 were concerned, because he could not keep at boiling- 
 point for more than a few minutes. And then he 
 listened silently while his father issued orders for the 
 coming term, and pointed out the folly of his be- 
 haviour. 
 
 ' If/ Mr. Rumbold concluded, ' we do not get a 
 better report of you from Mr. Lomax, we have decided 
 to take you away from Granby at the end of the year. 
 We can't have our record broken by you.' 
 
 ' Take me away from Granby ! ' Joe exclaimed, 
 for this was the last thing he either expected or 
 wished. 
 
 * Yes, Don't you want to leave ? ' his father asked. 
 
 * I should rather think I don't,' he replied, and 
 it was impossible to doubt his sincerity. 
 
 This, however, was nearly the sole crumb of comfort 
 that Mr. Rumbold gathered from the interview, 
 for neither exhortations nor threats moved Joe to 
 make any definite promises. 
 
 ' Anyhow 111 try, and I'll try to keep on trying,' 
 Joe said ; but he left the library with the hopeless 
 feeling that he would never be able to reach the family 
 standard, and dismally conscious that success in any 
 
2i6 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 other direction could never atone for a failure at 
 athletics. 
 
 ****** 
 
 When Joe returned from Leicestershire, he brought 
 with him an olive-branch in the form of a fox's brush. 
 
 ' This/ he said, when he met his father in the hall 
 of Maiden Croft, ' was given to me yesterday by the 
 Master of the Bleakley Hounds. When it's been 
 properly done, do you think that it might go in the 
 Pot-Room ? ' 
 
 Mr. Rumbold picked up the brush, sniffed several 
 times, and at last expressed his qualified approval 
 of it. 
 
 ' It's better than nothing,' he said, ' and when it 
 has been mounted we will have it hung up somewhere.' 
 
 * In the Pot-Room ? ' Joe asked again, for his mother 
 had told him to make this request. 
 
 ' I am not sure where ; perhaps the library would 
 be a better place,' Mr. Rumbold answered ; and Joe 
 gave a short laugh. 
 
 ' Have I said anything amusing ? ' his father asked 
 him. 
 
 ' Oh no — at least, you didn't mean it to be funny. 
 Only the library seems a queer sort of place to stick 
 a fox's brush,' was the unnecessarily candid reply. 
 
 * I think I am the best judge where to put it, and 
 I wish you would get over your habit of laughing 
 when there is nothing to laugh at,' Mr. Rumbold said. 
 
 And once more Joe replied that he would try. 
 
BOOK II 
 THE RUMBOLD TRADITION 
 
 217 
 
CHAPTER I 
 
 SPIDERS AND A FLY 
 
 DURING the Christmas hoUdays Max exercised 
 himself so strenuously in Switzerland that he re- 
 turned to Granby in an advanced state of physical 
 exhilaration. So ' fit/ indeed, did he feel that on the 
 first evening of the term he greeted Palmer, Armi- 
 tage, West, and the other important boys of his house 
 with an almost embarrassing familiarity. 
 
 ' Here we are again,' he said, when he had summoned 
 them to the hall, ' and there you see the footer cup in 
 its proper place/ 
 
 Heads were turned towards this trophy of prowess, 
 and then Max continued : 
 
 ' I want to talk to you about the plan of campaign 
 for this term. It seems to me that we ought to get 
 every cup that is going.' 
 
 Whereupon he proceeded to enter into details, 
 and to prepare the way for sweeping victories. In 
 this mood he was more than a little bumptious, but 
 at the same time his zeal was so infectious that even 
 Palmer, who instinctively preferred to count his 
 chickens after they were hatched, admitted that it 
 looked as if the house was in for a good time. 
 
 ' The best we have ever had, and that — without 
 boasting — is saying a good deal. All we have to do 
 is to keep awake, and not be too sure of ourselves.' 
 
 219 
 
220 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 Whereupon the conference became infected by the 
 spirit of back-patting, until Max said : ' Will one 
 of you send Rumbold to me ? ' and dismissed the 
 giants who were to win so many spoils for his 
 house. 
 
 During the last few Weeks Joe had been the cause 
 of much correspondence between his father and house- 
 master, and, had he seen Max's final letter, his aston- 
 ishment would have been intense. Mrs. Rumbold, 
 indeed, wondered how Max could so completely change 
 his opinions in the course of a short month. But the 
 truth was that he had never suspected that his first 
 letter would cause such a commotion in the Rumbold 
 household, and that, having aroused Mr. Rumbold's 
 anger, he determined to do his best to appease it. 
 
 For Max, according to his lights, was a just man, 
 and although he had written this letter at white-heat, 
 and could not remember precisely what he had said 
 about Joe, he had a very strong impression that he 
 had committed an act of injustice. 
 
 ' Full blast ahead,' was his motto, and a few small 
 accidents on the journey were of little consequence 
 as long as the pace was great. Still he was sometimes 
 prepared to rectify the damage caused by his impetu- 
 osity, and in Joe's case he had certainly tried to make 
 handsome amends. 
 
 Ignorant of Max's change of opinion, Joe had re- 
 turned to Granby with a determination to win his 
 father's approval. Just how this was to be done 
 had not occurred to him, but he was negatively armed 
 by a whok list of things that he must abstain from 
 doing, and he considered that this curious equipment 
 was better than none at all. ' Quixotic,' * clean- 
 cracked,' ' rotten,' had been some of the mildest 
 epithets bestowed upon his refusal to play in the 
 final cup-tie, and he had heard them so often that he 
 
SPIDERS AND A FLY 221 
 
 had almost brought himself to believe that they were 
 correct. 
 
 At any rate, if he was eventually going to please 
 his father, it was absolutely necessary to begin by 
 pleasing Max, and so he went to the hall with a smile 
 glued to his countenance. Max liked cheerful boys, 
 and although Joe felt as if nothing but a miracle 
 would ever make him like Max, he hoped that his 
 smile would be accepted in the spirit in which it was 
 meant. Furthermore, as he entered the hall, he 
 enlarged his peace-offering until it became a grin, 
 so anxious was he that it should not vanish before 
 the critical moment. 
 
 * You are looking fairly pleased with yourself,' 
 was his housemaster's greeting, and Joe shook him 
 most warmly by the hand. 
 
 * Glad to be back ? ' Max asked. 
 
 ' Yes, sir,' Joe answered, and continued to grin. 
 
 Whereupon Max began to wonder what this grin 
 meant, and during the pause his eyebrows frequently 
 twitched. Obviously, Joe thought, his peace-offering 
 had not been accepted, so he withdrew it. 
 
 ' Father and mother well ? ' Max jerked. 
 
 * Yes, thank you, sir,' was the reply, and Joe felt 
 that there was a danger of his grin being replaced by 
 a giggle. Cordiality had already departed from the 
 interview, and Joe could neither imagine why it had 
 gone nor how to bring it back. 
 
 ' And your brothers ? ' 
 
 The question snapped out like a pistol-shot, and Joe 
 visibly jumped. * Yes, sir ; but Jumpy thinks he 
 has got "flu."' 
 
 ' Tell him to take ammoniated quinine,' Max com- 
 manded and walked rapidly to the window. 
 
 For several minutes he stood with his back to Joe, 
 and honestly fought against his irritation. He had 
 
222 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 intended this meeting to be most amicable ; bygones 
 were to be bygones ; the slate was to be wiped clean. 
 But as soon as he saw Joe before him he was conscious 
 of a feeling of antagonism. Such a feeling, he told 
 himself, was the height of absurdity, for Joe was a 
 Rumbold, and with the Rumbolds he had never had 
 the smallest difficulty. Moreover, this was only a 
 small boy who had no right to cause trouble of any 
 kind. 
 
 Nevertheless, Max could not get away from the 
 fact that whenever he saw Joe some vague barrier 
 seemed to rise up between them. And this both an- 
 noyed and perplexed him, for he was as proud of the 
 Rumbolds as they were of themselves, and his desire 
 to see the youngest of the family bloom into a credit 
 to the house was not entirely selfish. 
 
 ' Why,' Max asked himself, ' does this boy who is 
 reared in a hotbed of athletics pretend not to be in- 
 terested in them ? ' for this was the charge Mr. Rum- 
 bold had brought against Joe. As he stood by the 
 window. Max could recall the very words : ' By some 
 extraordinary freak the boy does not love games, 
 and when we talk about them he pays little or no 
 attention. I want you to alter this state of things, 
 for I believe in games as soundly as you do, and there 
 is no room in our family for any more cranks like 
 William Rumbold.' 
 
 It was fortunate that Max had turned away when 
 he had ordered ammoniated quinine for Jumpy, 
 because Joe could not listen to this command and not 
 laugh at it. During the last few days nearly every- 
 one at Maiden Croft had been pursuing Jumpy with 
 this very remedy, until the patient had become ver- 
 bally violent whenever it was mentioned. 
 
 To write and tell Jumpy what Max had said would, 
 Joe thought, be the last straw, but the contem- 
 
SPIDERS AND A FI.Y 223 
 
 plation of his brother's fury was not diverting enough 
 to keep him employed for more than a minute ; and 
 long before Max had finished his meditation Jpe was 
 thinking that it would soon be advisable to cough 
 or upset something. But while he was pondering 
 over the best way in which to attract attention, he 
 was seized by such a fit of sneezing that before he knew 
 whether his latest sneeze was really goin§[ to be the 
 last, Max was standing in front of him. 
 
 ' Have you got *' flu '' ? ' Max asked, and Joe aban- 
 doned the hopes of another sneeze. 
 
 ' No, sir. I often do that, I rather like it,* he 
 replied. 
 
 ' ypu seem to like curious things ; perhaps you 
 lika ^mmoniated quinine. To be on the safe side 
 ygu had better come to my study and hav^ a dose/ 
 
 ' But, sir, I am quite well ; I feel most awfully 
 fit,' Joe expostulated ; but Ma;x was not tP b^ beguiled 
 in this way. 
 
 ' Even if it doesn't do any good it won't do any 
 harm. Come on,' he said, and led th^ way. 
 
 A cheerful fire was burning in the study, and after 
 Joe had been duly dosed Max told him to sit down ; 
 so he selected a chair that looked as if it was intended 
 for such as he was, and wondered what was going to 
 happen next. 
 
 ' Why don't you sit in an armchair by the fire ? ' 
 Max, who was looking through a bppk of photo- 
 graphs, asked; and Joe, wondering more than ever, 
 moved into more comfortable quarters. 
 
 But he had scarcely settled down in them before 
 Max issued another command. ' Come here a minute ; 
 I want to show you something,' he said. 
 
 Again Joe moved, and was given a photo of Jumpy, 
 Pads, and Bingo to look at. 
 
 ' I have seen that before, sir,' he remarked, and as 
 
224 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 Max was evidently waiting for him to say something 
 more, he added : ' It's rather good of Pads/ 
 
 ' Both Jumpy and Pads are in their Eleven colours, 
 and Bingo is wearing the Second Eleven cap,' Max 
 said, with an intention that was entirely missed by 
 Joe. 
 
 * Yes, sir,' the latter returned. ' I remember that 
 cap of Bingo's because it is rather gaudy, and Fd made 
 an old scarecrow and wanted something to top it up 
 with, so I took that cap.' 
 
 ' And what did Bingo say ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, he was most frightfully sick.* 
 
 ' And don't you think he was perfectly right ? ' 
 
 Joe pondered over this question for a moment. 
 
 * Yes, I suppose he was, for it was his cap,' he replied. 
 ' But is a Granby cap the sort of thing to put on 
 
 the top of a scarecrow ? ' 
 
 ' Not when you come to think about it like that ; 
 
 but Bingo never used it, and I only thought it was just 
 
 the thing that I wanted. I mean that I forgot all 
 
 about Granby when I took it.' 
 
 * Caps don't seem to mean much to you,' Max re- 
 marked. 
 
 ' I haven't got any,' Joe replied at once. 
 ' And don't you want any ? You didn't seem to be 
 very keen about them last term.' 
 
 * I've made up my mind to want them,' Joe said ; 
 but the emphasis expressed a doubt whether he would 
 ever get them. 
 
 ' You are a most extraordinary boy,' Max ex- 
 claimed, and rose abruptly from his chair. 
 
 ' That's what my father and Flip and Bingo say ; 
 but I can't see why,' Joe said, and looked to Max to 
 give an explanation. 
 
 ' Aren't you fond of games ? * Max asked him. 
 
 * Yes, I like playing them,' Joe replied. 
 
SPIDERS AND A FLY 225 
 
 ' Then don't you want to succeed at them, to be 
 better than anyone else, to be worthy of your name ? ' 
 and as Max shot out these questions he put his hand 
 heavily on Joe's shoulder. 
 
 * IVe promised to try ; I mean to try,' Joe said, 
 and Max motioned him back to the armchair. 
 
 And while Joe sat there waiting for his housemaster 
 to cease from marching up and down, he felt as if a 
 web was closing round him. In the future he was to 
 be a collector of caps, and for the life of him he could 
 not look forward to his fate with any enthusiasm. ' I 
 am not cut out for a blood,' was what he had told his 
 mother, and most thoroughly did he believe it. Yet 
 if he was to stay at Granby a cap collector he had got 
 to be, and a mighty poor job did he expect to make 
 of it. 
 
 At last, however. Max paused from his wander- 
 ings, and halting in front of the fire gazed at the top 
 of Joe's head. 
 
 ' Did you see the first letter I wrote to your father ? ' 
 he asked. 
 
 ' I heard some of it, but I didn't see it,', was the 
 reply. 
 
 ' Do you know what I wrote afterwards ? ' 
 
 ' No, sir,' Joe answered ; and Max took a quick 
 march to the door and back. 
 
 ' I think,' he said on his return, ' that I was unfair 
 to you in that first letter, and I wish to tell you that 
 I am sorry that I wrote it.' 
 
 In a discussion about masters that Joe had once 
 listened to at Maiden Croft, he could distinctly re- 
 member his father decreeing that a master who had 
 made a mistake must be extremely foolish ever to 
 acknowledge it to a boy, and this parental announce- 
 ment came to his mind as he stared at Max and tried 
 to think of something to say. Apologies were things 
 
 8 
 
226 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 * 
 
 that he was much more experienced in giving than in 
 receiving, and for the moment he found it difficult 
 to reaUze that Max had descended from the Jovian 
 reahns in which all housemasters lived. In fact, he 
 was suffering temporarily from a mental earthquake, 
 and was totally incapable of putting any of his jumbled 
 thoughts into speech. 
 
 His silence, however, passed unnoticed, for Max 
 was thorough in whatever he did, and now that he 
 had brought himself to make one apology, he threw 
 magisterial dignity to the winds and made a general 
 confession of error. 
 
 To Joe, sitting agape in an armchair several sizes 
 too large for him, this extraordinary change in the 
 Max he had known was more than a little embarrassing. 
 An angry Max, an energetic Max, even a cheerful 
 Max when the house had been distinguishing itself, 
 were all acquaintances of Joe's, and he had at least 
 a vague idea of the way to treat them. But an apolo- 
 getic Max was an entirely new experience, and Joe 
 suffered from extreme discomfort while he was intro- 
 duced to him. 
 
 For some time, indeed, he could scarcely listen to 
 what Max was saying, so anxious was he to go away 
 and tell Ormsby what had happened. Since his re- 
 turn to Granby he had only seen Ormsby for about 
 ten minutes, but in that short time he had been told 
 that the * Life of Max ' had been begun ; and here 
 was a magnificent chapter, if only Ormsby would 
 believe it ! Not that truth, as far as he understood 
 Ormsby's scheme, was to be the prevailing feature of 
 this ' Life.' 
 
 But presently Joe guessed that there was, after all, 
 some method in what he had deemed a fit of madness, 
 for with his sense of the fitness of things he had seri- 
 ously thought that any master who could so completely 
 
SPIDERS AND A FLY 227 
 
 confess the error of his ways must have at least two 
 bees in his bonnet. It was ' jolly decent of Max/ 
 and * a real sporting thing to do/ of this Joe was sure ; 
 but it was also colossally mad. 
 
 And then Joe discovered what it was all leading 
 up to, and knew that the web was being drawn tighter 
 and tighter. 
 
 ' I have been too hard on you — far too hard on you/ 
 Max was saying ; ' and my disappointment that you 
 did not at once compensate us for the loss of Bingo 
 made me unjust. That is acknowledged, and in the 
 future you need have no fears that it will recur. But 
 what is one term ? You have plenty of time to fulfil 
 all the hopes we have of you, and that you can fulfil 
 them if you care to I feel absolutely convinced. We 
 wipe out last term — at least we will wipe out every- 
 thmg but the fact that you got the prize in your class, 
 and begin afresh.' 
 
 Whereupon Max looked hard at Joe, and was pleased 
 to see that he was smiling. The barrier between 
 them was, he thought, broken down ; but he did not 
 suspect that it was a mere after-thought of his that 
 had broken it, nor did it occur to him that barriers 
 can be as easily repaired as removed. If he had not by 
 chance mentioned Joe's prize, the result of his efforts 
 would have been incomparably smaller than it was. 
 But as soon as it had been admitted that the last term 
 had not been totally blank, Joe's spirits rose tumult- 
 uously, and when that happened his candour was apt 
 to be disconcerting. 
 
 ' I've made a much bigger mistake than you, sir,' 
 he blurted, ' for I really thought you didn't care what 
 happened to me in my class. I must have been a most 
 fearful ass.' 
 
 This last statement Max was by no means disposed 
 to denj^ Tact was not a quality he ever professed 
 
228 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 to covet for himself, but under certain conditions 
 he was disposed to deplore the general lack of it, and 
 on this occasion he was so embarrassed by Joe's frank- 
 ness that he could only reply to it with a succession 
 of ' Tuts ! ' 
 
 * It was frightfully stupid of me ; I thought I had 
 better tell you,' Joe added, and rose from his com- 
 fortable chair, because Max looked as if he was wait- 
 ing for him to go. 
 
 ' You must get rid of these absurd ideas, and then 
 we shall get on famously,' Max said. 
 
 ' I see that they were all wrong,' Joe acknowledged, 
 and quietly left the room as Max began to pace up 
 and down it. 
 
 But although Joe was aware that the friendliness 
 of this interview had waned towards the end, he de- 
 parted from it with far greater confidence in Max 
 than he had ever had. 
 
 * I'll simply buck up like anything,' he said to him- 
 self, and when he met Cole in the passage he greeted 
 him with a most cheerful smile. 
 
 * Anybody might think you are glad to see me again ; 
 I'm not your long-lost brother from Timbuctoo,' 
 Cole said. 
 
 But the coldest of douches was powerless to sup- 
 press Joe at that moment. 
 
 ' Oh, rot ! ' he returned. ' I vote we stow feuds 
 and try to forget all about them.' 
 
 ' I've sometimes felt like that at the beginning of 
 the term when I've got plenty of money, but it doesn't 
 last,' Cole replied, and walked away. 
 
 ****** 
 
 On the next morning Joe found that he had not been 
 given a double remove, and that seven of his former 
 class — among whom was Ormsby — ^had been pro- 
 
SPIDERS AND A FLY 229 
 
 moted to a form that was taken by a man whose name, 
 to his perpetual sorrow, was Ussher. 
 
 It was soon evident to all of the promoted boys 
 that the change from Mr. Ridley to Mr. Ussher was 
 not for the better, and Ormsby, before a week had 
 passed, flatly declared that their new class-master 
 was not even worth fighting. 
 
 * You could have a decent stand-up row with Rid- 
 ley,' he said, ' and you knew he'd fight fair ; but this 
 man sneaks into the room as if we were a pack of in- 
 valids who will all kick the bucket if he makes the 
 least noise. He's always trying to catch us doing 
 something for which he can jump on us, and the best 
 way of scoring off him is not to give him the chance.* 
 
 And with this Joe was ready enough to agree, for 
 Mr. Ussher suffered from a profound distrust in the 
 honesty of boys, and hunted for ' cribbers ' with an 
 unwearying zeal. Of S3niipathy between the master 
 and his class there was absolutely none ; boys worked 
 for Mr. Ussher solely because they were anxious to 
 get away from him. 
 
 Upon Joe he had a deadening influence ; school- 
 work became the dullest of grinds ; the atmosphere 
 of the class-room was vitiated by suspicion ; and when 
 Joe handed up an especially good piece of prose, Mr. 
 Ussher unblushingly asked him if he had been helped 
 with it. 
 
 To get away from such a distrustful man for oc- 
 casional hours was a huge relief, and Joe began to 
 treat visits to the master who taught him mathe- 
 matics as if they were delightful excursions. Previ- 
 ously he had been bored by the sight of an equation ; 
 for he was not a mathematician, and knew that he 
 never could be. But there was a sort of hail-fellow- 
 well-metness about Mr. Ashworth that was exceed- 
 ingly pleasant after an undiluted dose of Mr. Ussher, 
 
230 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 and a buffet when he slacked was infinitely more to 
 Joe's liking than being compelled to listen to Mr. 
 Ussher's elaborate sarcasms. And when Joe com- 
 pared the one man with the other, he remembered 
 that Mr. Ashworth was a * blue/ and highly recom- 
 mended by Bingo, while Mr. Ussher's best friend 
 could hardly help calling him a smug. 
 
 Thus, with his interest in his work paralyzed by a 
 man who treated boys as slaves and himself as their 
 driver, Joe found it easy to turn his thoughts into other 
 directions. For a fortnight he played ' scrum ' half- 
 back in the Second House Fifteen with a zest that 
 gained Rose's enthusiastic approval. 
 
 * You'll break your neck to a dead certainty/ 
 Ormsby kept on telling him, ' you fling yourself simply 
 anyhow on the ball/ 
 
 But Joe did not mind. Falling on the ball was his 
 strong point, for he was far from clever at passing it, 
 and the fact that he was covered with such bruises 
 that fellows at the baths clustered round to have a 
 look at them was only an encouraging proof that he 
 was grimly trying to win a cap. 
 
 And then, just as Ormsby was beginning to think 
 that Joe was no longer in danger of not making the 
 most of himself, a great frost began, and went on 
 uninterruptedly for nearly five weeks. With the 
 ground frozen as hard as iron Max had reluctantly 
 to admit the impossibility of playing footer, and 
 Ormsby, who was craving for employment of some 
 kind, complained loquaciously v/hen Arkwright, who 
 was to have returned to Granby at the beginning 
 of February, wrote that he was not coming back 
 until the next term. 
 
 ' Now we can't play footer, we've got plenty of 
 time to finish off his education,' he said ; ' and the 
 worst of it is that I believe he's jolly glad not to come 
 
SPIDERS AND A FLY 231 
 
 back. Hell turn up next term in mittens and a 
 chest-protector, and we shall have to begin all over 
 again ' ; and then he went on to declare that unless 
 something happened soon, he should go out and 
 assault a policeman. 
 
 * Let's go and do voluntary *' gym," ' Joe suggested. 
 ' Snakes alive ! that's a good idea. The frost is 
 
 making you Rumboldish ; you're getting most fear- 
 fully keen.' 
 
 * Oh, shut up ! ' Joe said, and as they went up to 
 the ' gym ' they decided that Battersby would be 
 furious when they told him what they had been doing. 
 
 But in the ' gym ' they found Battersby solemnly 
 anmsing himself with dumb-bells. 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 MAX VERSUS PALMER 
 
 For two or three days Max was so indignant with the 
 frost that the only notice he took of it was to assert 
 repeatedly that it would not last. But when the 
 newspapers began to chronicle marvellous readings 
 of the thermometer, and when (to Max's infinite dis- 
 gust) the skating championship was actually decided 
 on the Fens, he gave up prophesying and summoned 
 Palmer to discuss the deplorable state of affairs. 
 
 ' There is no depending upon the weather,' he be- 
 gan, when Palmer, looking even more bovine and 
 placid than usual, arrived in his study ; ' so the thing 
 to do is to see that everyone in the house gets plenty 
 of sound exercise.' 
 
 He spoke with some asperity, but without pro- 
 ducing the smallest effect. For Palmer considered 
 that the weather was entirely to be depended upon, 
 and additionally had a secret hope (which he was 
 too wise to disclose) that the frost would continue 
 for weeks. If Max's advice meant anything it most 
 assuredly meant * Runs,' and from the very bottom 
 of his heart Palmer hated to jog drearily along a frozen 
 road. Moreover, the prefects had just been invited 
 to skate on a lake close to Granby, and not for all 
 the challenge cups in the school did Palmer intend to 
 run when he had the chance to skate. 
 
 ' The slightest slackness, and we may miss the Second 
 
 232 
 
MAX VERSUS PALMER 233 
 
 Fifteen cup/ Max continued ; ' for the Bonhamites 
 are quite a useful lot/ And this reference to the 
 Bonhamites moved Palmer to speak. 
 
 ' They kept back two or three fellows, who ought 
 to have been in their First Fifteen, so that they might 
 get the cup this term. I call that a low-down game/ 
 he said. 
 
 ' Then there is all the more reason why they should 
 be beaten,' M^x immediately replied, and proceeded 
 strongly to recommend a long and daily run for the 
 whole house. In his enthusiasm he mentioned Stour- 
 ford and Durdington as excellent places to run to ; 
 but what Palmer remembered about these villages 
 was that they were respectively six and seven miles 
 from Granby, and the mere thought of toiling to and 
 from them compelled him to take his eyeglasses from 
 his pocket, and to wipe them carefully. 
 
 This trick, which was a favourite one of his when he 
 wished to avoid speaking, invariably annoyed Max ; 
 but on this occasion he only allowed himself a muffled 
 grunt of impatience. Nevertheless, he could not 
 help regretting that the present head of his house had 
 not inherited some of Bingo's initiative and activity. 
 On the football-field Palmer was a figure of terror to 
 his opponents, he rolled them over with the strength 
 of a young bull and the quickness of a hound, but off 
 it he frequently reminded Max of some prehistoric 
 animal which found the acme of content in prolonged 
 siestas. 
 
 To prevent Palmer from sinking into a state of 
 somnolent satisfaction had become one of Max's 
 regular duties, and frequently he sent for him and gave 
 him a brief but stirring address. His address was now 
 less brief and more stirring than usual, but long before 
 the end of it Palmer's mind was wholly occupied by 
 a desire to sit down. 
 
234 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 ' Some of us have been asked to skate on the lake 
 at Dale Court. Tm very keen on skating/ he said, 
 and having at last fixed his eyeglasses on his nose he 
 looked blinkingly out of the window. 
 
 ' But surely/ Max retorted at once, ' your first 
 duty is to the house ; you ought not to require to be 
 reminded of that.' 
 
 At this Palmer turned his massive head from the 
 window, and a smile dawned and slowly spread over 
 his face. 
 
 ' I don't get much chance of forgetting it, do I, 
 sir ? ' he said ; and this unexpected question sent 
 Max sprinting round the room. 
 
 To quarrel vulgarly with a boy of Palmer's stand- 
 ing was contrary to the fitness of things as Max under- 
 stood it. A school prefect might be advised, ex- 
 horted, stimulated, even — in some cases — rebuked ; 
 but since Max considered that a boy's character was 
 as easy to read as the daily newspaper, it followed 
 that in his opinion the head of his house must possess 
 exceptional merits. 
 
 From the boys who were being trained under the 
 Maxine system, the Head of the house was chosen 
 because he was the most perfect specimen of his time. 
 There were. Max with some reluctance admitted, 
 degrees of perfection. Bingo, for instance, had been 
 superlatively successful in bringing glory to the house 
 that he led ; Pads, in spite of being irritatingly casual, 
 had never given Max a moment of real uneasiness ; 
 Trower, Vane, Ransome, Milton, had all done their 
 work thoroughly and well. None of them had given 
 him cause to doubt the wisdom of his choice. They 
 had responded to the claims he had made upon them, 
 and they had been almost slavishly devoted to the 
 system. 
 
 And now Palmer, with his stultifying silence and 
 
MAX VERSUS PALMER 235 
 
 unlooked-for lapse into something very like disre- 
 spect, made Max wonder whether he could possibly 
 have made a mistake. The mantle had fallen upon 
 Palmer because of his supposed level-headedness and 
 his undoubted brilliancy as a football player. That 
 this level-headedness might develop into obstinacy 
 had never occurred to Max, and now, while he sped 
 up and down the room, he had to fight against a strong 
 desire to treat his senior prefect as if he was a young- 
 ster of Joe's standing in the house. 
 
 Such treatment, however, was quite contrary to 
 precedent ; furthermore, to put it into practice would 
 be an admission that Palmer's selection had been an 
 error of judgment. Under ordinary circumstances 
 Max was ready enough to admit that he might make a 
 mistake ; he had even been known to boast that he 
 did not aspire to the infallibility which some of his 
 colleagues seemed to claim for themselves. But 
 this admission of error referred only to minor affairs 
 and to junior boys ; when it came to the selection 
 of a head for his house. Max thought — with some 
 reason — that his judgment was nothing more nor 
 less than marvellous. 
 
 So when he eventually ceased from perambulating 
 the room he had subdued most of his irritability, and 
 had determined to treat Palmer with great firmness 
 and kindness. 
 
 All doubts as to the boy who was going to accompany 
 this daily run were to be swept away before Palmer 
 left the study, and Max was confident that the pro- 
 cess of sweeping would be most satisfactorily com- 
 pleted in a very few minutes. 
 
 But before the short time that he had deemed 
 sufficient for this task was completed, he found him- 
 self engaged in a struggle that made him almost in- 
 coherent with astonishment. A battle royal at once 
 
236 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 began. Will clashed against will, and Max's ver- 
 bosity was battered and beaten by his opponent's 
 colossal determination to skate whenever he got the 
 chance. 
 
 ' It's the one thing I am tremendously keen on/ 
 Palmer said. * You know I've been in Switzerland 
 the last two Christmas holidays, and I would rather 
 skate than do anything.' 
 
 * Rather than do your duty ? ' Max asked. 
 
 ' Anyone can see fifteen fellows run along a road ; 
 for that matter they could do it by themselves.' 
 
 * I want the whole house to go for runs.' 
 
 * Then, sir, there will be all the more to see that the 
 others really do it.' 
 
 If Palmer's meaning was a little involved it was 
 impossible to doubt the determination of the tone 
 in which he spoke, and a more tactful and less honest 
 man than Max might have waived the dispute as a 
 matter which was, after all, but of small importance. 
 Such a course, however, would at the best have been 
 an acknowledgment of defeat, and Max required 
 most convincing evidence before he could admit that 
 he was beaten. So he stolidly stuck to his guns, and 
 in the combat used all the powers of persuasion that 
 he possessed. 
 
 To this torrent of language Palmer listened with 
 inexhaustible patience and a totally unmoved coun- 
 tenance. What all the fuss was about he scarcely 
 understood, and did not in the least care. If Max 
 liked suddenly to go mad and to extract trouble out 
 3f a trifle, it was not, Palmer thought, any concern 
 of his. Nor was it going to prevent him from skating. 
 He was simply incapable of understanding that Max 
 was bent on having his way in the matter, because, 
 for the first time in his life, he found himself in direct 
 opposition to the boy of his own choosing. 
 
MAX VERSUS PALMER 237 
 
 * A certain slackness/ Max said, ' is bound to creep 
 into the house if the Head of it hands over his authority 
 to someone else, and merely goes off and enjoys him- 
 self/ 
 
 ' If you are dissatisfied with me I am quite ready 
 for someone else to take my place/ Palmer, quite 
 unperturbed and unruffled, replied. 
 
 ' My dear boy, don't talk like a fool. We don't 
 do things like that in this house. We practise a little 
 give-and-take.' 
 
 * It's all give and no take in this case,' Palmer re- 
 marked, and Max promptly told him that he was ex- 
 ceedingly discourteous. 
 
 * I didn't mean to be, sir. I said it because it 
 seemed to be true,' Palmer explained. 
 
 ' It is not true,' Max said emphatically ; but this 
 statement only induced Palmer to take his spectacles 
 from his pocket. After an assiduous wiping, he re- 
 moved his eyeglasses and put on his spectacles. Then, 
 while Max fidgeted round the room, he pushed his 
 spectacles on to his forehead, and again placed the 
 eyeglasses on his nose. This performance of his was 
 unusual but not unique, and he only sought refuge 
 in it when he was either extremely hard at work or 
 bored. On this occasion he was bored. 
 
 ' Would you mind telling me what you do mean ? ' 
 Max stopped in front of him and asked. 
 
 ' I mean to skate. It's mad to miss such a chance,' 
 was the reply. 
 
 ' This is not the time to discuss insanity,' Max 
 snapped back. 
 
 Palmer passed a hand over his forehead, encoun- 
 tered the spectacles, and having put them back into 
 his pocket, said, with more animation than he had 
 previously shown : * Rather not.' 
 
 * I am glad that you are at last able to agree with 
 
238 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 me/ Max said angrily ; but the only effect this pro- 
 duced upon Palmer was to make him blink. 
 
 ' I do not think that there is any necessity for me 
 to keep you any longer/ Max announced ; but just 
 as Palmer was turning slowly towards the door, he 
 added : ' When, however, you consider what I have 
 said, I think that you will see that your plain duty is 
 to superintend these runs yourself/ 
 
 Palmer at once halted to ponder over this vale- 
 dictory remark. It was, he thought, one of those 
 horrible things that Max rattled off with surprising 
 ease, but to which as a rule it was unnecessary to 
 pay any attention. Now, however, he was sufficiently 
 interested to pause while he considered Max's meaning, 
 and, having grasped it, he stood with his fingers on 
 the handle of the door and issued what was really 
 an ultimatum. 
 
 ' I have told you, sir,' he said, ' that someone shall 
 look after these runs, and if you tell me to look after 
 them, I don't see why \ shouldn't be able to put the 
 job on to someone else. Everybody who doesn't 
 skate shall run, and whether I run or not doesn't 
 make any difference as far as I can see.' 
 
 ' You cannot help being short-sighted,' Max re- 
 turned ; and Palmer, ignoring that remark, left the 
 field of battle. 
 
 But, as he returned to his own side of the house, 
 he was nearly as angry at this sneer as Max was with 
 himself for having used such an unfair weapon. If 
 any proof was wanted to show who was victor in the 
 fight, Max's final remark was more than enough. 
 He was temporarily beaten, and he knew that he was ; 
 but even at the moment when his personal esteem 
 had suffered a severe blow and his opinion of the 
 perfection of his system had received a severer one, 
 he was ashamed of himself for bitting below the belt. 
 
MAX VERSUS PALMER 239 
 
 Max was a born fighter, and during his pugnacious 
 career he had seldom been compelled to admit defeat ; 
 but he could not have imposed his will upon his boys 
 and broken them in so successfully to his system if 
 they had ever suspected him of meanness. His 
 faults were, in fact, largely those of impulse ; he 
 never laid traps to catch boys, and so they found it 
 easy to forgive him when he stormed over trifles or 
 punished them for things they had not done. At 
 first they were scared by him, as Joe was scared ; 
 but his keenness and straightforwardness generally 
 carried him through in the end, and if they never 
 really understood him, they liked him well enough 
 to smile at his eccentricities — after they had left 
 Granby. 
 
 Possibly Joe would have fallen more readily under 
 his influence if he had not been forced to endure a 
 special course of treatment, for he was, as he ex- 
 pressed it, ' often simply fed up with the man ' ; but 
 although he felt that to get on with his housemaster 
 must always require a special effort on his part, the 
 majority of the boys in the house were content with 
 Max, and not a little proud of him. 
 
 For the first time since Max had taken over the 
 house did his senior prefect quite seriously think 
 of him as a bounder, but, fortunately, he was a boy 
 who cared nothing for the pleasure of communicating 
 surprising news ; and though he felt that he had at 
 last discovered what Max really was, he kept the 
 discovery to himself when he walked into Rose's room. 
 Nevertheless, he was not in his usual state of pla- 
 cidity, and for some inexplicable reason the sight of 
 Rose gloating over a pair of new skates increased his 
 annoyance. 
 
 Now it happened that Rose could skate far better 
 than he could do anything else, and by no one had 
 
240 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 the frost been welcomed with more deUght than by 
 him ; for at last his chance, he thought, had come to 
 show off before some of the fellows who had persis- 
 tently declined his offers of friendship. He still had 
 to hang on to * The Line ' as best he could, and con- 
 sidering that in a few short weeks he had received 
 more snubs than most people have to endure in a 
 lifetime, it is small wonder that he rejoiced to think 
 that his hour of triumph was at hand. 
 
 ' Aren't they ripping ? ' he asked, and held up the 
 skates for inspection. 
 
 ' Yes, they're all right,' Palmer replied, as he looked 
 at them ; and when he had finished his examination 
 he added : ' But I don't see what use they are to 
 you.' 
 
 * Ah ! that's what I'm going to tell you,' Rose 
 said, with a chuckle ; ' for when I heard that old 
 Bristow had invited the school prefects to skate on 
 his lake, I hired a '' bike " and went to see him.' 
 
 Clearly he expected to be praised for his prompt- 
 ness, and he looked both surprised and disgusted when 
 Palmer merely grunted : * What confounded impu- 
 dence ! ' 
 
 ' At any rate I'm a house prefect,' he said. 
 
 * And so are nearly every Dick, Tom, and Harry 
 in the place. Bristow's lake isn't as big as Loch 
 Lomond,' Palmer returned, with his eyes glued upon 
 the skates. 
 
 ' Well, there's always room for a small one, and I 
 shan't make much diference,' Rose replied in a tone 
 that was intended to be conciliatory. 
 
 * You won't make any,' Palmer said at once. 
 
 ' But you can't want the whole of that lake for 
 yourself and about twenty other fellows.' 
 
 ' No, but I want you to take the Second Fifteen 
 out for a run every day. I put you in charge of them. 
 
MAX VERSUS PALMER 241 
 
 and you ought to feel proud/ Palmer announced 
 deliberately, and as he spoke he picked up the skates. 
 
 Rose, however, knew several reasons why he was 
 a most unsuitable fellow to superintend these runs, 
 but not one of them made the smallest appeal to 
 Palmer. 
 
 ' They had better start at half-past two this after- 
 noon, and as it's a half they can go a good long way. 
 But don't hurry them at first ; just keep them mov- 
 ing,' he said. 
 
 ' Can I take one of the house-whips ? ' Rose asked. 
 
 ' Yes, but don't go slashing at them. If I find 
 that you just let out right and left, you won't have a 
 whip,' Palmer replied, and with the skates in his hand 
 he moved towards the door. 
 
 ' Here, you are walking off with my skates,' Rose 
 shouted. 
 
 Then Palmer turned slowly round. ' A new pair 
 of skates are like a new pair of boots — they want 
 using a bit before they're comfortable. I'll break 
 them in for you,' he said, and went back to his room 
 with the skates, and also with the pleasant feeling 
 of having astonished Rose. 
 
 For Rose had felt so certain that he could twist 
 Palmer round his fingers that at the beginning of this 
 term he had said as much to a Bonhamite, and the 
 Bonhamite had told Temperley, and Temperley had 
 told Armitage, who had asked Palmer what he thought 
 about it. At the time Palmer had apparently thought 
 nothing, for he made no comment whatever upon 
 Armitage's information ; nevertheless, he had made 
 up his mind that Rose must be put back into his 
 proper place. And for the time being his proper 
 place, in Palmer's opinion, was a hard and dreary 
 road. 
 
 Left skateless and alone. Rose was incHned for a 
 
242 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 moment to persuade himself that Palmer's sudden 
 display of unfriendliness was a joke — a bad joke 
 (such as might be expected from a simpleton trying 
 to be humorous), but still a joke. After very brief 
 reflection, however, he dismissed this idea, and began 
 to think abusively of the fellow who had stalked into 
 his room and taken his skates. * Great hulking 
 brigand,' was the first description he found for him, 
 and it pleased him so much that he immediately for- 
 got the unpleasant part of Palmer's visit, and only 
 remembered that he was now in charge of the Second 
 Fifteen, with power to use a whip upon the lagging 
 and short-winded. 
 
 During the days that followed. Palmer, Armitage, 
 and West skated frequently on Mr. Bristow's lake, 
 and mightily enjoyed themselves. But for the re- 
 mainder of the house a daily run was anything but 
 a welcome form of exercise. Every morning or after- 
 noon two squads of boys set out to run for several 
 miles, but the squad that was being trained by Rose 
 ran faster and farther than the one which a boy 
 called Cameron was supposed to command. 
 
 After a week of this unthrilling form of exercise, 
 heavy snow fell in the night, and subsequently Cameron 
 and his companions ran barely two miles, and then 
 spent the remainder of their time in tobogganing on 
 Cranley Hill. But for the Second Fifteen there was 
 no change from the dull monotony of these weary 
 runs, though, in a sense, Ormsby and Joe managed 
 to extract a flicker of amusement from them. 
 
 For Ormsby quickly found out that he was marked 
 down to receive Rose's attentions, while Joe was to 
 be spared them ; so, after he and Joe had warmed 
 themselves by running at a good pace, they always 
 fell behind the rest of the squad for the sole purpose 
 of tantalizing the whipper-in. On these occasions 
 
MAX VERSUS PALMER 243 
 
 Ormsby kept just in front of Joe, and it was impos- 
 sible for Rose to use his whip on the one without 
 touching the other. It is true that such a simple 
 game sometimes bored Ormsby so much that he had 
 to vary it by jumping suddenly to one side, but when 
 Rose swallowed this bait he generally found that his 
 prey was too quick for him. 
 
 Thus the only pleasure Rose ever hoped to get 
 from these runs was taken away by Joe's determina- 
 tion to run immediately in front of him, and more 
 than once he felt vehemently inclined to risk the 
 chance of offending Bingo and to deal lashingly with 
 Joe. And if he had yielded to this inclination it 
 is quite certain that Bingo would have been far from 
 displeased, while he would have prevented Joe from 
 despising him for putting up with such an obvious 
 piece of cheek. 
 
 But there was a kink in Rose's nature that stopped 
 him from behaving like a normal boy. Plots, strata- 
 gems, and wiles were dear to him ; discretion, in his 
 opinion, was not only the greater part, but almost 
 the sole part, of valour. 
 
 Thus Joe ran scathless, although perpetually raging 
 against the fellow who refused to treat him as he de- 
 served, and the game was becoming intensely weari- 
 some when, by mere accident, something happened 
 to relieve its tediousness. 
 
 Heavy snow had fallen again, but it made little 
 difference to the skaters for whom Mr. Bristow catered 
 with the prodigality of a millionaire, and it suited 
 the tobogganing contingent excellently well. But it 
 made Rose wish that he had never been bom, and 
 similar impossibilities. His patience, in fact, was 
 giving way, and as Joe and Ormsby ran doggedly 
 in front of him on the dismal road to Durdington, 
 a chance of using his whip suddenly presented itself. 
 
244 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 The squad was approaching a wind-swept comer, 
 where the road turned abruptly to the right, and as 
 usual Cole was stolidly plodding on, a perfect example 
 of grim determination. And then, just before he 
 turned the comer, one of his shoes came off, and he 
 bent down to recover it. Nearly all of the runners 
 paid no attention to Cole, and disappeared round 
 the bend ; but Joe and Ormsby waited at the corner 
 to see what would happen, and witnessed a sight 
 that made them chuckle all the way to Durdington. 
 
 ' Why can't you wear decent shoes ? ' Rose asked ; 
 but Cole was too much engaged in tying up a lace 
 that had broken to answer such a question. 
 
 * Hurry up,' Rose continued ; ' youVe chosen the 
 windiest place on earth for your shoe to come off.' 
 
 * Do you think I did it on purpose ? ' Cole growled. 
 ' I don't care why you did it, but if you don't 
 
 hurry up I'll give you something to make you re- 
 member it.' 
 
 ' What's that ? ' Cole asked. 
 
 ' A taste of this whip.' 
 
 And at this answer Cole laughed so provokingly 
 that it did not altogether astonish Joe and Ormsby 
 when they saw Rose carry out his threat. For a 
 moment Cole stopped bending over his shoe, and 
 looked as if he was going to reply to this attack there 
 and then ; but directly afterwards he bent down 
 again and finished mending his lace. And while he 
 was engaged in this. Rose, seeing Ormsby some yards 
 away from Joe, ran forward, and left Cole to follow. 
 
 In a second Ormsby was back in his usual position, 
 but before they had run twenty yards Cole had caught 
 up Rose, and with something between a heave and a 
 push had sent him head first into a deep snow-drift 
 on the side of the road. 
 • * If he stays there it will be a thundering good rid- 
 
MAX VERSUS PALMER 245 
 
 dance of rotten rubbish/ Cole grunted, and started 
 up the road to Durdington. 
 
 ' Well, I'm blowed ! ' Joe exclaimed, and, putting 
 his hands on his knees, he began to shake with laughter. 
 
 ' He's gone clean through all the- soit snow. Do 
 you think hell ever get out ? ' Ormsby asked. 
 
 ' You bet he will ; but I vote we wait to see 
 him.' 
 
 ' He'll be in a most awful bait ; he's beginning to 
 move. Let's hook it.' 
 
 * Cole buzzed him in as if he was a baby,' Joe said, 
 and again succumbed to hopeless laughter. 
 
 ' I'm off. That whip stings, and my legs are cold,' 
 Ormsby replied, and walked slowly up the road. 
 
 But Joe was so anxious to see what Rose looked 
 like when he reappeared that he could not tear him- 
 self away. 
 
 ' He's fairly on the move. You'd better come on,' 
 Ormsby called out ; but Joe refused to budge. 
 
 And when at last Rose did manage to struggle out 
 of the drift he was worth looking at. The most 
 realistic Father Christmas ever contrived would have 
 looked spring-like beside him. Snow, softened by 
 the morning's sun, was clinging to every bit of him ; 
 it was on his face, hair, arms, legs. His ears and mouth 
 were full of it, and he came out in such a spluttering 
 and wheezing condition that Joe's first impulse was 
 to go and help him. 
 
 * Come on,' Ormsby shouted again, and nipped 
 that impulse in the bud. 
 
 But Joe stayed until Rose began to shake himself, 
 and then he ran off and joined Ormsby. 
 
 * We'd better catch the others up,' the latter said. 
 ' What's the hurry ? ' Joe asked him. 
 
 ' If you'd ever felt that whip, you'd know. He'll 
 simply use it on the first fellow he sees.' 
 
246 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 * I am not keen on the whip, but it's about my 
 turn/ Joe said. 
 
 ' Don't be such a silly ass/ Ormsby replied ; and 
 they did not speak again until they had run some dis- 
 tance on the twisting road and found Cole waiting 
 for them. 
 
 ' Where's Rose ? ' he asked. 
 
 ' I expect he's still combing his hair/ Ormsby said. 
 
 ' He's got snow down his throat and up his nose, 
 and was absolutely stuffed with it,' Joe added. 
 
 * Serve him jolly well right. Do you think he'll 
 come on ? ' Cole said. 
 
 ' I never thought of that. I shouldn't wonder if 
 he goes home and waits for you,' Ormsby answered. 
 
 * Let him wait ; I'm not afraid of him,' Cole said ; 
 but, as he turned once more towards Durdington, 
 he added, * no one else saw what happened, so keep 
 your mouths shut ; it's no good jawing about it.' 
 
 When they reached Durdington they found Bat- 
 tersby and the rest of the fifteen waiting for them 
 and their whipper-in. But nothing more was seen 
 of Rose during that afternoon. 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 FROST AND FLOOD 
 
 In the middle of the nineteenth century villagers 
 in the neighbourhood of Durdington had spoken of 
 it as ' town.' * Be yer goin' to town Saturday night ? ' 
 ' Yes, I be.' And to ' town ' men, women, youths, 
 and maidens who had been toiling during the week 
 on the land, flocked for their few hours of relaxation. 
 In those days Durdington prospered and gave itself 
 airs, and then a railway was built, which, in spite of 
 protests, left the * town ' scomfuUy on one side. 
 
 Irretrievable as this misfortune was, Durdington 
 might have accepted it with greater resignation had 
 not its loss been Clyde's gain. Durdington and 
 Clyde had always been rivals, but after the one had 
 obtained the railway that had been denied the other, 
 rivalry developed into fierce and active antagonism. 
 
 Some thirty years before Rose was bundled neck 
 and crop into a snowdrift the young braves of Dur- 
 dington had walked five miles over the hills, and hav- 
 ing given fair notice of their coming had met and routed 
 the champions of Clyde in hand-to-hand and bare- 
 knuckled combat. If they had stopped at that and 
 returned home they would have been well advised, 
 but success went wildly to their heads, and their next 
 move was to attack and wreck the railway-station. 
 
 So much of the story Joe had already heard from 
 
 247 
 
248 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 Benjamin, Max's boot-boy, who was a native of 
 Durdington, and also in constant danger of returning 
 abruptly to the place from which he had come. The 
 tale had such great attractions for Joe that he never 
 saw the boot-boy without cross-examining him about 
 it ; but either because he did not consider that the 
 rest of the story reflected credit upon Durdington, or 
 because he really did not know it, Benjamin could be 
 coerced into nothing more than the vainest repe- 
 titions. 
 
 Nevertheless, the little that Joe knew of the de- 
 tails of that great night seemed to deprive Durdington 
 of some of its melancholy, and to invest it with a spirit 
 of romance. What was to the rest of the runners 
 merely a desolate village in which houses, with their 
 windows broken, stood waiting for the occupants 
 who never came and where grass grew thick between 
 the paving-stones of High Street, was to Joe a source 
 of endless speculation. Not even to Ormsby did he 
 confide how eagerly he wanted to hear an account 
 of that fight from one of the combatants, for he felt 
 certain that Ormsby would merely tell him not to 
 be an ass. Ormsby lived entirely in the present or 
 in the future. He was eager enough to make history 
 if he ever got the chance ; but he was not at all anxious 
 to read or hear about it. The past that called so loudly 
 to Joe meant very little or nothing to him. He 
 was ' out ' to do things himself ; he did not want to 
 remember what other people had done. 
 
 So when the squad stood in the market-place, 
 where nothing was any longer bought or sold, and 
 stared across at the Assembly Room, in which only 
 rats assembled, Ormsby was suddenly fired with one 
 of his ideas, and whispered to Joe : 
 
 * I think IVe got a scheme. Just stay for me if 
 they start before I come back.' 
 
FROST AND FLOOD 249 
 
 Without waiting for an answer he walked quickly 
 out of the market-place, and immediately after he 
 had disappeared Battersby suggested that Rose was 
 probably lying in the snow with a sprained ankle, 
 and expecting them to carry him home on a hurdle. 
 To this Cole replied with a guffawish grunt that made 
 Battersby ask him if he was ill. Then Cole answered 
 that he wasn't ill yet, but that he soon would be if 
 he had to listen to such rot. Whereupon Joe began 
 to giggle, and was promptly told that he and Cole 
 were selected as two of the hurdle-carriers. 
 
 J ril carry Rose home on my back if you'll find him,* 
 Cole retorted ; and then all of the squad, with the 
 exception of Ormsby and Joe, straggled slowly out 
 of Durdington. 
 
 Left to himself, Joe vaguely wondered how long 
 he should have to wait for Ormsby ; but when the 
 latter was bent upon one of his schemes the outcome 
 was invariably trouble, and Joe had become philo- 
 sophical enough not to be anxious until he was face 
 to face with the results of it. No one was in sight 
 except a wooden-legged man, who was standing 
 against the battered walls of the Assembly Room, ^and 
 Joe stared across the market-place at him, and de- 
 cided to go and find out if he could supply the missing 
 part of Benjamin's story. 
 
 ' I've seen you afore,' the man said, as Joe went up 
 to him ; * and v/hat strikes me dumb is why the 
 whole lot of you come panting your breath out in this 
 dead-alive place two or three times a week.' 
 
 ' We're training.' 
 
 ' Playing at being 'orses,' he said ; and Joe began 
 to think that his companion was the village idiot. 
 
 But just as he was turning round to look for some 
 more hopeful way of beguiling the time, he was asked 
 to give his name. 
 
250 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 ' Joe Rumbold/ he replied. 
 
 ' I never 'eard tell of such a name as that. Did 
 you ever 'ear tell of Tom Flood afore ? ' 
 Joe shook his head. 
 
 * Such/ said Tom with a grin, ' is fame.' 
 
 Joe hesitated for a few seconds, and then decided 
 to forget his manners. 
 
 ' Did you by any chance,' he asked, ' lose your 
 leg in a fight ? ' 
 
 ' If you wants to know, I lost un in a little poach- 
 ing affair ; the Granhy 'Erald called it a Naffray/ 
 Mr. Flood shouted ; and with an almost imbecile 
 leer he added, ' I cut the paragrafe out of the 'Erald, 
 and keep 'im locked up in my joowel-case at 'ome.' 
 
 But Joe was in search of a hero, and not of any kind 
 of a humorist, so he looked round to see if Ormsby 
 was yet in sight, and said carelessly : * Then you 
 weren't at the fight between Durdington and Glyde ? ' 
 
 Before, however, the words were out of his mouth 
 Flood once more riveted the whole of his attention. 
 At first Joe was afraid that he was being attacked by 
 a hopeless madman, for Tom had clutched him firmly 
 by the shoulder, and seemed to be in a chaotic state 
 of splutter and spleen. Shaking Joe to and fro, he 
 poured torrents of incoherent and violent language 
 over him, until he abruptly released his hold and fell 
 back exhausted against the wall. 
 
 Then Joe stood and gazed at him in undisguised 
 amazement ; the anger of the man and his extraor- 
 dinary collapse were equally unintelligible until the 
 reason of this outburst suddenly occurred to him. 
 
 * I am most awfully sorry ; you were at that fight, 
 after all ; I'll bet you were. I want to hear about 
 it most awfully. I'm awfully keen — I am, really. 
 Do just pull yourself together and tell me. I've heard 
 the first part from Benjamin ' 
 
FROST AND FLOOD 251 
 
 ' Benjamin Biles,' Mr. Flood interrupted, with 
 scorn ; ' 'e's turnip-'eaded.' 
 
 ' I know he is. Will you tell me about it ? ' 
 
 * 'Ow much d'you know already ? ' 
 Joe told him. 
 
 And while Mr. Flood listened, with occasional 
 nods of approval and occasional signs of dissent, 
 he seemed to Joe to grow visibly bigger. ' He looked 
 all slack and sort of rotten at first,' Joe afterwards 
 told Ormsby, ' and what I said seemed to pump him 
 up.' 
 
 As a matter of fact the memories of that great 
 night, on which Durdington had been compelled to 
 live through dreary years, refreshed the spirit of youth 
 in Mr. Flood. As he listened, he became once more 
 the hero who had organized that famous (or in- 
 famous) raid, and who had known the triumphant 
 discomfort of being carried shoulder-high from one 
 end of Durdington to the other. No longer a wooden- 
 legged loafer, he squared his shoulders, clenched 
 his fists and sparred against imaginary oppo- 
 nents. 
 
 * rU say this,' he announced, when Joe had finished 
 and was waiting eagerly for him to continue the story, 
 ' that considering Benjamin is a pudding-'ead 'im- 
 self, and bom of pudding-' eaded folk, 'e's done, in 
 a manner of speaking, pretty fairish — pretty fairish. 
 What the stupid young toad never told you is that 
 Tom Flood ' — ^he tapped his chest — * was the leader 
 of that hexpedition, 'is brain planned it, 'is 'and wrote 
 the letter teUing them Glyders as we was coming, 
 and 'e wrote the war-song we sang as we marched 
 over the 'ills.' 
 
 , * What was the song ? ' 
 
 * I don't rightly remember un,' Tom said, and 
 scratched his head : * but it went summut like this : 
 
252 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 ** Marching, marching, marching on to Glyde, 
 Fists our only weapons as we onward stride ; 
 Now they've got the railway, 
 Soon they'll have a fright — 
 Twenty boys of Durdington 
 Will give 'em beans to-night." 
 
 There are some more verses, but what with one thing 
 and another they'e gone clean out of my 'ead/ he 
 added. 
 
 ' Never mind,' Joe answered him, with an eagerness 
 that was scarcely polite. ' What did you do when 
 you got there ? ' 
 
 * We just 'ammered 'em until they weren't worth 
 'itting ; they were as soft as a lot of apple-dumplings, 
 poor critters, made of dough.' 
 
 ' And then ? ' 
 
 * Why then, so to say, we began to show 'em what's 
 what. We'd chosen a moonlight night in May month, 
 'aving nothing to be ashamed of as we could see. 
 They'd be using their long tongues on us, and we 
 paid 'em back in 'ard fists. No 'anky-panky ; all 
 fair and habove board ; no quarter asked for or given, 
 as the saying is. And when we'd finished 'em off 
 we went and made a sight of a mess of their railway- 
 station as they were so proud of — just broke it up 
 a bit, so that the engine-driver of their one passenger 
 train — 'e was bom in Durdington — ^might ask them a 
 question or two in the morning.' 
 
 ' And was that all ? ' 
 
 * All ! ' Mr. Flood shouted scornfully. ' I should 
 think it wasn't. Let me tell you, young fellow, 
 that when you begins that game it's like drink — the 
 more you goes on, the more you wants. I know!' 
 and Joe found no reason to contradict him. 
 
 ' What we did next,' he continued when he had 
 recovered his breath, ' was to march in lines of four 
 through Glyde singing our song, and then it came into 
 
FROST AND FLOOD 253 
 
 my 'ead 'ow we'd put a top on the evening. Fd 
 caught sight of some rope in the station, and a few 
 Glyders were still nosing about whispering that we 
 ought to be locked up, and where was the police, 
 and those sort of yarns. So back to the station we 
 marched, took our rope, and cut un up into sizeable 
 pieces, and got to work ' ; and the remembrance of 
 that work made Mr. Flood laugh and cough alter- 
 nately until Joe lost patience with him. 
 
 * Do go on,' he said ; * I want to hear what hap- 
 pened.' 
 
 ' Don't you be in such a mortal 'urry, young whip- 
 per-snapper, or Fll catch you a clout over the ear- 
 'ole. You've never led a Foray — that's what the 
 beaks on the Bench called it. It isn't everyone who's 
 been in a Foray and a Naffray,' Tom shouted. 
 
 ' By Jove ! no,' Joe said, and succeeded in appeas- 
 ing Mr. Flood. 
 
 ' You seem to know a man when you clap eyes on 
 un.' 
 
 ' Rather.' 
 
 ' Well, just bear this in mind then. Glyde had 
 four lamps, posts and all, as they was as preeny about 
 as ever they was of their little 'ole of a station. Glyde, 
 they said, was to be the new 'ealth resort, so we 
 reckoned we'd give the 'ealth-resorters sommut to 
 talk about when they resorted, which they never did 
 do ; folks being born fools, but not such blithering 
 born fools as that. First we got 'old of the station- 
 master — a fat bulk of a man, as himportant as a hen 
 with one chick, and in 'is brand-new uniform and all 
 — and we tied 'im up tight to the lamp-post nearest 
 the station, which was, in a manner of speaking, 
 kind of us. And we left four fellows to guard 'im 
 and Hsten to what 'e said, and 'e said a lot. Then 
 we laid 'ands on the porter, who ran like a nare, a 
 
254 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 poor squirm of a fellow, but in the natooral order of 
 things 'e 'ad to come next to 'is boss. Afterwards we 
 tied up the policeman, who tried to make believe 'e liked 
 it ; and for the last post we chose Bert Gibbs, by trade 
 a chemist and by nature a liar, who'd been braggart- 
 ing that 'e was going to be the first Mayor of (jlyde. 
 All in a row we got 'em tied tight, and when we'd 
 sung 'em our song a time or two, and there wasn't 
 no one left about, for they'd all run like rabbits and 
 bolted their doors, we just marched off 'ome and went 
 to bed.' 
 
 The ending Joe thought disappointing, but before 
 he could speak Mr. Flood added : ' What I should 
 like to draw your hattention to is that we never went 
 hinside a public-'ouse, 'aving no quarrels with publi- 
 cans/ 
 
 * What happened afterwards ? ' 
 
 * I got fourteen days 'ard. Some of 'em were 
 fined, which was paid by public subscription, and I 
 was a nero for about a month.' 
 
 ' Then you ought to have burnt Clyde,' Ormsby 
 said over Joe's shoulder, and was promptly asked 
 how long he had been present. 
 
 ' I came when he was calling you a '* whipper- 
 snapper." ' 
 
 * What's that 'e said about burning Clyde, as if I 
 didn't know my own business ? ' Mr. Flood asked 
 furiously. 
 
 * He meant it for a joke,' Joe explained. 
 
 * Then 'e'd best be careful 'oo 'e jokes with, for 
 Tom Flood ain't one as stands any sauce, not even 
 now 'e isn't ; but 'e wouldn't object to being stood 
 a drink if heither of you 'as the price of one in your 
 pockets.' 
 
 Whereupon Joe pulled Ormsby to one side for a 
 hurried consultation. 
 
FROST. AND FLOOD 255 
 
 ' I've only got ninepence, and that's at home/ 
 he said. 
 
 ' I put all my money in my pockets because I had 
 a sort of feeling I might want it ; but this is all I 
 have left/ Ormsby answered, and handed over a 
 threepenny-bit, two pennies, and three halfpennies. 
 
 ' It's a queer-looking lot ; still, it will have to do,' 
 Joe said ; but although Mr. Flood looked at it with 
 some scorn, he did not refuse it — indeed, without 
 wasting a moment, he stumped off in the direction 
 of the Wheatsheaf, and took no notice of the * good- 
 bye ' Joe fired after him. 
 
 ' I've been the very dickens of a time,' Ormsby 
 said. ' We shall have to run like blazes, or we shall 
 be late for lock-up.' 
 
 ' What have you been doing ? ' 
 
 ' Showing the Durdington carpenter how to make 
 bob-sleighs. We'll toboggan to-morrow ; it's an 
 extra half.' 
 
 ' How about Rose ? ' 
 
 ' He's a back number — dead as a blooming door- 
 nail. He doesn't count any more,' Ormsby replied, 
 and then he started to run. 
 
 If they were to be back at the house in time for 
 lock-up, they had to travel nearly seven miles on a 
 snowy road in an hour and a quarter, and before 
 they had gone a seventh of the distance Ormsby was 
 panting loudly, and saying that they had not got a 
 dog's chance. But Joe, to his surprise, discovered 
 thj^-^ he was enjoying this struggle against time, and 
 began to think that he must have ' a wind ' if he could 
 feel quite fresh, while Ormsby was blowing like a 
 grampus. And a long wind would be extraordinarily 
 useful if he was ever to become a real pot-winning, 
 cap-getting Rumbold. 
 
 When they reached a sign-post, which directed 
 
256 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 them to Granby and told them that they had to go 
 five and a half miles before they got there, Ormsby 
 embraced the post as if it was a long-lost and much- 
 loved friend, and clung to it with his head down. 
 
 * I'm done to the world,' he panted, after Joe had 
 stood disconsolately watching him for two or three 
 minutes. 
 
 * Youll be as right as rain now,' Joe replied ; but 
 he was a little annoyed with him, for a boy with no 
 breath always arouses more scorn than sympathy in 
 one who has plenty. 
 
 * You'd better go on and leave me to walk. I've 
 about seventeen stitches in my side, and I feel as if I 
 might be sick at any minute.' 
 
 This combination was too much for Joe to deal 
 with, but he had no intention whatever of leaving 
 his afflicted companion. 
 
 ' We'd better walk a bit until your stitch goes,' 
 he said. 
 
 * I've got more than one stitch ; I'm simply all 
 stitches,' Ormsby replied ; but his affection for the 
 post seemed to be decreasing. * Where the dickens 
 you get your wind from beats me ; we've been sprint- 
 ing all the way,' he added. 
 
 There was no time to waste either in explanations 
 or denials, for, unless they sprinted faster than ever, 
 Joe knew that they were bound to be late. 
 
 * Come on ; try walking,' he said. 
 
 Whereupon Ormsby abandoned the post, and with 
 his hand pressed to his side began senilely to hobble. 
 
 ' It's no use,' he declared, after they were about 
 fifty yards nearer to Granby. * I'm going to have 
 either jaundice, glanders, or appendicitis — ^perhaps 
 all three.' 
 
 * Oh, buck up ! You'll get your second wind in 
 a minute,' Joe told him. 
 
FROST AND FLOOD 257 
 
 ' Not if I know it/ he returned. ' I would rather 
 let Max scourge me every morning before breakfast 
 than pound along at that pace. I should simply 
 be run in for trying to commit suicide directly I got 
 back.' 
 
 ' You waste such a lot of breath in talking rot/ 
 Joe returned. 
 
 They walked slowly on for two or three minutes, 
 while Ormsby changed his disease with bewildering 
 frequency, and chuckled quietly to himself whenever 
 he hit upon a name that pleased him ; and then a 
 man in a dogcart overtook them, and was promptly 
 invited by Joe to give Ormsby a lift into Granby. 
 
 ' What's the matter with him ? ' the driver asked. 
 
 * Nothing,' Ormsby instantaneously replied. 
 
 ' He's got so many things he's got mixed,* Joe 
 hastened to explain. 
 
 ' Hop up, and put this rug round your shoulders. 
 There's room for two, but there's only one rug.' 
 
 In spite, however, of Ormsby's protests and per- 
 suasions, Joe refused to drive, for as soon as he was 
 left to himself he meant to find out what this wind of 
 his was worth. Never before had he suspected that 
 he could run, and if the suspicion turned out to be 
 true, he saw a chance both of appeasing his father and 
 propitiating Max. The daily runs that he had been 
 compelled to take had not troubled him in the least, 
 but they had been nothing more than glorified jog- 
 trots, which even the notoriously paceless Cole and the 
 apparently windless Ormsby were able to get through 
 without attention being drawn to their infirmities. 
 
 But now as the dogcart disappeared round a comer, 
 and Ormsby, having made a characteristically quick 
 recovery from his various maladies, gaily waved his 
 hand, Joe set out seriously to test his wind. And the 
 result was both surprising to himself and to Ormsby, 
 
 9 
 
258 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 who had not been in his room for five minutes when 
 Joe joined him. 
 
 * Who picked you up ? ' Ormsby asked, and turned 
 round from the fire he was trying to Ught. 
 
 ' Nobody,' Joe answered ; * but if you put the sticks 
 on the top of the coal youll never get that fire to 
 go.' 
 
 * The coal sort of worked through the sticks ; there's 
 about half a pound of lump sugar down at the bottom. 
 Perhaps you had better put it right while I get changed, 
 and while you change 111 make the tea.' 
 
 ' All right,' Joe agreed ; but soon afterwards he 
 discovered that Ormsby was not in the best of tempers. 
 
 * It's like this,' he began, when tea was ready : 
 ' I thought you'd missed it. When a fellow you've 
 got used to suddenly starts an incurable disease, I'm 
 blessed if it won't take all the taste out of this straw- 
 berry jam. I shall eat jam, because I once heard 
 a doctor say that it's very good stuff for anyone 
 who's done to the world to eat ; but I don't expect 
 to enjoy it.' 
 
 * You'll be wasting good stuff, then,' Joe said, and 
 helped himself liberally. 
 
 ' That may be ; but it's my duty to keep up my 
 constitution at a time like this.' 
 
 ' You do blither ! ' Joe said from a full mouth. 
 
 ' I don't/ Ormsby repUed ; ' for if you can run as 
 fast as Mr. Beechcroft of Shotover Church Farm— 
 and he'll be glad to see us any day— can drive, you'll 
 win the Long Stourford Run in a year or two, which 
 is more than any of your great brethren ever managed 
 to do.' 
 
 He waited for this statement to be denied, but Joe 
 merely spread another biscuit (they were not allowed 
 to eat new bread, because they were supposed to be 
 in training) with jam, and said nothing. 
 
FROST AND FLOOD. 259 
 
 ' Perhaps you iioant to win the Stourford Run/ 
 Ormsby said. 
 
 ' Don't you ? ' 
 
 ' I might as well want to kick my hat from here to 
 Jerusalem and back.' 
 
 ' You may suddenly find you've got a wind. If 
 I've got one, I believe it's only just come.' 
 
 ' You talk of the blooming thing as if it is a gale 
 that springs up in the night. You're born with a 
 wind or you aren't. I wasn't ; you were.' 
 
 * I'm not so sure about that.' 
 
 ' Anyhow,' Ormsby continued impatiently, ' it 
 doesn't make any difference how you get the thing 
 as long as you have got it. I'll bet five bob to an old 
 bootlace that you're going to beat all sorts of records. 
 I knew you couldn't help it, though I've been pre- 
 tending that you could. It's in the blood ; it isn't 
 your fault, but all the same it's pretty sickening.' 
 
 Joe got up and kicked the fire, then he turned on 
 Ormsby and again surprised him. 
 
 * You're a rotter,' he began, ' because you've been 
 bucking me up to do things I'm no good at, and trying 
 to make me believe I am good at them. Then when 
 you suspect that there is something I may really be 
 able to do, you sneer and grouse.' 
 
 ' That's not true,' Ormsby interrupted ; but Joe 
 paid no attention. 
 
 * It seems to me,' he continued, ' that you are glad 
 enough for me to buck up at things I'm precious 
 little use at, but when there is a chance of me doing 
 something fairly decent you cut up rough.' 
 
 * That's a beastly thing to say.' 
 
 ' It is,' Joe admitted ; * but I'd got to blurt it 
 out.' 
 
 For over a minute Ormsby sat with his legs stretched 
 out in front of him and his hands clasped behind his 
 
26o A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 head, and then he jumped to his feet and smacked Joe 
 on the shoulder. 
 
 ' By Jove ! ' he exclaimed ; ' I believe it is true. 
 Tm jealous ; I'm gnawed — that's the right word — 
 with the yellow demon of jealousy. I want to keep 
 you all to myself, and if you once become Rumboldish 
 I know I shall lose you.' 
 
 ' You are a jolly lot more likely to become what 
 you call " Rumboldish " than I am,' Joe said ; ' but 
 I am going to try to be as Rumboldish as I can.' 
 
 ' Not really ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, really. My father wants it ; my mother 
 thinks I ought, at any rate, to make a shot at it ; 
 and old Max preached a sort of sermon to me about 
 it. I've made up my mind to try.' 
 
 ' I knew this would happen,' Ormsby groaned, 
 and fell back into his chair. 
 
 ' But you have been egging me on to do it.' 
 
 * I know ; but I never thought you would.' 
 
 ' If you think I want to, I don't,' Joe said savagely. 
 
 ' It doesn't make a pin's worth of difference what 
 you want. If you're going to try, you'll get there ; 
 you can't help it.' 
 
 ' You're a jolly lot more certain than I am.' 
 
 Then Ormsby raised an empty tea-cup to his lips 
 and said : * Joe is dead ; long live Rumbold Quintus ! ' 
 
 * If you weren't such an awful rotter, I should 
 spread the rest of this jam over you,' Joe said, and 
 gazed into the pot. 
 
 * I don't believe there is any. Are we allowed to 
 eat jam ? ' 
 
 ' Nobody said we weren't.' 
 
 * I don't believe a real Rumbold would run any 
 risks,' Ormsby replied. ' What do you think has 
 happened to Cole ? I'm going to see.' 
 
 As if he was in a desperate hurry to leave Joe to 
 
FROST AND FLOOD 261 
 
 fit himself into his new skin, he dashed out of the 
 room and in a very short time returned with a crop 
 of information. 
 
 ' There's been a kind of inquest, or whatever you 
 call it, on Cole, and he's been found not guilty. Rose 
 reported him to Palmer, and Palmer consulted Ar- 
 mitage, and the two of them went to Rose's room and 
 sent for Cole. They decided,' Ormsby continued, 
 * that Cole acted under great provocation, and that, 
 although he must be licked for chucking a house- 
 prefect into a heap of snow. Rose is not to be allowed 
 to have a whip any more.' 
 
 * How on earth did you find out all this ? * Joe asked. 
 ' From Cole, who told me I wasn't to go jawing 
 
 about it because Armitage says it's a disgrace to the 
 house. Cole was beaten by Palmer, but he says 
 he never felt it at all and that Rose is simply fuming.' 
 
 ' Is he still going to run with us ? ' 
 
 ' I'm blowed if I know, but I hope he will, for we'll 
 just treat him as if he isn't there. We'll toboggan 
 to-morrow, if we all have to be licked for it after- 
 wards.' 
 
 ' It's worth a licking,' Joe agreed. 
 
 * It's worth both that and the best part of my last 
 eighteen bob,' Ormsby replied, and went off to enlist 
 tobogganers and to swear them to secrecy. 
 
 But at breakfast on the following morning Ormsby 
 and his fellow-conspirators received a buffet that 
 shattered their hopes. 
 
 Since the frost. Max had seemed to withdraw the 
 interest he had always shown in the house, and to 
 most of the squeaklings, who knew nothing of his 
 interview with Palmer, this was a cause for some 
 astonishment and not a little rejoicing. No longer 
 did he scurry round the hall asking awkward ques- 
 tions, noticing with critical and unerring eyes things 
 
262 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 that untidy boys had vainly hoped might escape 
 attention, stimulating everyone — if the truth is to 
 be told — ^with his own infectious keenness. 
 
 He appeared, in fact, suddenly to have dropped 
 the reins, and to have left his house to guide itself ; 
 and Battersby, who loved to be driven, and was a 
 Maxite to his marrowest bone, complained nightly to 
 an unsympathetic audience in the dormitory. The 
 house, Ormsby assured him, was only having a rest- 
 cure, which everyone had better enjoy while it lasted ; 
 but Battersby's fear was that Max had become sud- 
 denly and incurably slack, and he moaned over the 
 future, and was so gloomy about everything that 
 Webster showed obvious signs of envy. 
 
 Battersby, however, was troubling himself quite 
 unnecessarily, for Max was only waiting his oppor- 
 tunity to step in and teach Palmer a lesson, and his 
 chance came when he met the Second Fifteen, short 
 in numbers, and without anyone to look after them, 
 returning from Durdington. 
 
 At the time he passed them by without a word, 
 but when he came into breakfast he stood at the top 
 of the table, and, resting his hands upon it, said : 
 
 * In future it will be unnecessary for any school or 
 house prefect to run with the Second Fifteen, for I 
 have decided to do it myself. To-day being an extra 
 half, we will start to Durdington at two o'clock.' 
 
 Palmer looked stolidly at a half-eaten sausage, 
 Armitage looked straight at Max and smiled. West 
 began hurriedly to drink some coffee that was too hot 
 to drink, Rose smiled a sickly smile. 
 
 ' Well,' Battersby said at the junior table, ' I'm 
 blowed if he isn't the finest old sport in the world.' 
 
 ' I've wasted the best part of a quid,' Ormsby mut- 
 tered to Joe. 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 lions' dens 
 
 Although Palmer received Max's announcement 
 without any visible sign of discomposure, he was 
 considerably agitated by it. Owing to Rose's failure, 
 and perhaps to a surfeit of skating, he had already 
 told Armitage and West that he was going to see after 
 the Second Fifteen for, at any rate, the rest of the week. 
 But now, he thought, ' a stopper had been fairly put 
 on everything,' and as he ruminated over his sausage, 
 he came to the unsatisfying conclusion that the only 
 thing left for him to do was to strain Max's powers 
 of belief to their utmost limits. So he dawdled 
 through his breakfast until even the most strenuous 
 eaters in the house had left the hall, and then went 
 in pursuit of Max. 
 
 During the last few days scarcely a word had passed 
 between his housemaster and himself, and when he 
 knocked at the study door and was told to come in, 
 he expected anything but a friendly welcome. Max, 
 however, received him with a cheerful smile and an 
 apology for keeping him waiting for a minute until 
 he had written a note. The minute was a very long 
 one, and Palmer spent his period of waiting in rubbing 
 his eyeglasses and wondering why he had come. 
 The tables, as far as he could see, had been fairly 
 turned upon him, and it was rather a way that tables 
 
 268 
 
264 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 had when anyone fought with Max. Still, without 
 knowing exactly how such a result was going to be 
 brought about, he hoped that he should be able to 
 leave the study without confessing that victory had 
 entirely slipped from his hands. But Max never smiled 
 in that cheerful way unless he felt extremely happy, 
 and what on earth there was to be happy about un- 
 less it was the breakfast announcement, Palmer 
 could not imagine. 
 
 While Max wrote his note and addressed the en- 
 velope, he glanced occasionally at Palmer, and when 
 he had finished his smile was more evident than ever. 
 
 ' And now, Palmer,' he said, ' what is it ? ' 
 
 ' It was only that I meant to run with the Second 
 Fifteen to-day, sir.' 
 
 ' But that would be interrupting your skating,' 
 Max replied most amiably. 
 
 ' It doesn't matter, sir,' Palmer replied ; and, 
 taking off his glasses, he seemed to blink for mercy. 
 
 ' Oh, but it matters very much,' Max assured him ; 
 'besides, there is no longer any necessity because I 
 am going.' 
 
 ' I made up my mind last night, sir. You may not 
 believe it — I shouldn't if I were in your place — but 
 it's true,' Palmer said. 
 
 ' Of course I believe it — I believe every word of it. 
 But wasn't it a little late in the day ? ' 
 
 ' They've been running all right.' 
 
 ' And the rest of the house ? ' 
 
 At this Palmer replaced his glasses on the remotest 
 tip of his nose and said nothing. 
 
 ' Not that tobogganing isn't excellent fun,' Max 
 added. 
 
 ' It's jolly good exercise,' Palmer said, with some 
 show of spirit. 
 
 ' But it wasn't in the contract,' Max replied good- 
 
LIONS' DENS 265 
 
 humouredly, * so don't you worry any more about the 
 Second Fifteen. I'll see to them until the frost goes.' 
 
 * I wish you would let me do it, sir,' Palmer replied. 
 But Max shook his head. ' You have had your 
 
 chance ; it is now mine,' he said. 
 
 ' Everyone will talk,' Palmer grumbled. 
 
 ' What do you think they will say ? ' 
 
 ' They'll say that you are running because Armitage, 
 West, and I want to skate.' 
 
 Max turned away for a moment so that Palmer 
 should not see him laughing. If the Head of the 
 house was obstinate he was also magnificently straight- 
 forward, and Max was both pleased to teach him a 
 lesson and to find that he possessed qualities which 
 justified the confidence that had been placed in him. 
 ' After all,' Max thought, ' I was right when I chose 
 him to be Head ' ; and, having banished the upset- 
 ting suspicion that he had made a mistake, he felt 
 wonderfully pleased with both himself and Palmer. 
 
 * I suppose that is what they will say, but really 
 it doesn't make much difference how they gossip as 
 long as the house is sound,' he replied. 
 
 ' I hate fellows gossiping about our house,' Palmer 
 muttered. 
 
 ' And quite right, too,' Max agreed ; ' but this is 
 rather an exceptional case, isn't it ? ' 
 
 And then Palmer gave up the struggle. He had 
 imagined that the fight had been finished days before, 
 and that he had won ; but now he saw clearly enough 
 that he had been living in a fool's paradise, and that 
 he had got to pay heavily for his tenancy. There 
 was nothing left for him to say, or, if there was, he 
 could not think of it ; so he looked rather sheep- 
 ishly at Max and grinned. And Max, not mistak- 
 ing the meaning of that grin, held out his hand. 
 
 ' We have had a good fight,' he said, ' and I ex- 
 
266 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 pect we shall be all the better friends for it. But 
 don't you worry about me ; I shall enjoy these 
 runs.* 
 
 Palmer gave Max's hand a violent shake, and 
 turned away with the feeling that the sooner the frost 
 disappeared the better. But before he had opened 
 the door Max spoke to him again. 
 
 ' Do you happen to know why Rumbold and Ormsby 
 did not come back with the rest of the Second Fifteen 
 yesterday afternoon ? ' he asked. 
 
 * No, sir ; but they were both at call-over. I 
 took it myself,' Palmer said. 
 
 ' Never mind ; that sort of thing is often not worth 
 inquiring into/ And while Max was speaking there 
 was a knock at the door. 
 
 * Come in,' he said ; and as Ormsby entered the 
 room Palmer escaped from it. 
 
 •JC- 4(> # « « ■» 
 
 Max's announcement had so severely affected 
 Ormsby's plans and pocket that he had left his break- 
 fast almost untouched, and had fled to his room to 
 what he called ' straighten things out.' So, when Joe 
 joined him, he had decided upon a plan and thought 
 it very wise and good. 
 
 * It's like this,' he began : ' whichever way you 
 look at it, we're in the soup— precious thick soup, too. 
 I've asked the carpenter to bring the toboggans to 
 meet us in the road about half-way between here and 
 Durdington, and if I just run past him he'll only 
 shout.' 
 
 * We might get there first and tell him what's hap- 
 pened,' Joe suggested. J^ 
 
 * He's as deaf as a post, and I still owe him five bob 
 which IVe got by selling my stamps to Piper.' 
 
 ' Not the whole lot for five bob ? ' 
 
 * Well, yes ; but that's all right. Piper will soon 
 
LIONS' DENS 267 
 
 want five bob himself, and perhaps I shall have it 
 then. Anyhow, they had to go. But it's worth it, 
 if we can only toboggan.' 
 
 * Of course we can't.' 
 
 * That's where you are wrong. Max is a sports- 
 man, isn't he ? ' 
 
 Joe supposed that he was. 
 
 * Well, if I go straight to him and tell him how he's 
 upset everything, and just explain things, I think 
 he'll turn out trumps. He's not an ordinary beak, 
 and I'm going to see what sort of a beak he is, for he's 
 got to know sooner or later, and I'd rather tell him 
 now than on that rotten road.' 
 
 * He'll simply foam at the mouth,' Joe said. 
 
 * Not he ; he's as pleased as Punch with himself 
 this morning, and I'm off to tackle him.' 
 
 * * * -jf * * 
 
 The most casual observer might have noticed that 
 Ormsby entering Max's room looked far less gloomy 
 than Palmer departing from it. In fact, Ormsby 
 had beguiled himself into believing most confidently 
 in Max's sporting instinct, and, as good fortune willed 
 it, he could not have tested his belief at a more pro- 
 pitious moment. 
 
 In the neatest possible way Max had punished 
 Palmer, and the future of the house no longer seemed 
 to be in the smallest danger. Palmer, refusing to 
 attend to his duties, had been a source of great an- 
 noyance, but the last few minutes, in which he had 
 been begging to be allowed to take up those duties 
 again, had more than compensated Max for all the 
 doubts and fears and anger he had felt. 
 
 ' I was wondering,' he said to Ormsby, ' whether 
 I would send for you and Rumbold, and now you walk 
 straight into the lion's mouth.' 
 
 * I came to ask you to let me do something, sir/ 
 
268 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 * Then it must be something you are not allowed 
 to do/ Max replied ; but he did not look in the least 
 annoyed. 
 
 ' Yes, sir, it is.' 
 
 ' At any rate, that's honest.' 
 
 * I might not have been so honest, if I could have 
 helped myself, sir.' 
 
 ' That's more honest still — almost foolish,' Max 
 replied ; but he had marked Ormsby down as a boy 
 who would presently rise to an important position 
 in the house, and was strongly prejudiced in his 
 favour. 
 
 * I wanted to ask ' 
 
 ' First, let me ask you something,' Max interrupted. 
 ' Why were you and Rumbold not with the Second 
 Fifteen last evening ? ' 
 
 ' That's a part of the whole story,' Ormsby replied ; 
 and then he had an inspiration, and stopped to think 
 about it for a moment. Was it fair to give Joe away ? 
 Undoubtedly it was, because he had said that he wanted 
 to be Rumboldish. And the quickest way for Joe to 
 arrive at that blessed state was to put Max on the 
 track. Besides, if Max, keen on Joe as he was, knew 
 what had happened, he would undoubtedly feel in 
 even a better temper than he already appeared to 
 be. Whether Joe liked it or not, Ormsby determined 
 to tell Max about the run back from Durdington, 
 and he did not see any use in making out the per- 
 formance less wonderful than it was. 
 
 In answer to Max's command that he should tell 
 the story, he laid his cards with engaging and extremely 
 courageous frankness upon the table. He, however, 
 omitted, and Max noted the omission, to mention 
 that while the Second Fifteen had been jogging along 
 dreary roads the rest of the house had been amusing 
 themselves in various ways. Indeed the only excuse 
 
LIONS' DENS 269 
 
 he made for himself was that possibly a change for 
 a day or two might do everybody some good. 
 
 ' They give the 'Varsity crews champagne, sir, 
 when they get stale, at least the papers say that they 
 do. I thought tobogganing might stop us from get- 
 ting sick of ' 
 
 ' You can't tell me anything about 'Varsity crews,' 
 Max interrupted, ' and I should say that the chief 
 reason why you want' to toboggan is because you like 
 tobogganing.' 
 
 ' That is the chief reason, sir,' Ormsby confessed. 
 
 ' Isn't it the only one ? ' 
 
 ' It was until I came in here.' 
 
 Max gave a short laugh, but as he did not speak 
 Ormsby decided to play his trump card. 
 
 Without any compunction, now that he was really 
 fighting to save those toboggans from being wasted, 
 he proceeded to speak about Joe's wind. So far he 
 had tried to think of this wind as a nuisance that might 
 possibly disappear or, at any rate, not develop ; but 
 now that he considered it his trump card, and, more- 
 over, one of which Max obviously approved, he made 
 it out to be the most wonderful thing he had ever 
 seen or heard of. Whether what he was saying was 
 quite true or not, he did not stop to think ; a subject 
 that lent itself to exaggeration was at his disposal, 
 and under such circumstances he could not resist 
 the temptation to embellish it. For the time being 
 the really important question was not Joe's wind, 
 but tobogganing, and, according to his ideas, it was 
 perfectly fair to exaggerate the one if it was likely to 
 be of any help to the other. 
 
 ' You will be late for chapel,' Max interrupted at 
 last ; ' but I think we had better finish this off now. 
 From what I understand, these toboggans are to be 
 brought to meet us this afternoon. How you meant 
 
270 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 to use them if Rose had been running with you, I do 
 not understand.' 
 
 He paused for an instant, but Ormsby did not feel 
 incUned to offer any further explanations. 
 
 ' Then I may take it/ he continued, ' that your 
 intention was to toboggan in spite of Rose. That i$, 
 of course, sheer contumacity.' 
 
 At that moment Ormsby regretted both the tobog- 
 gans that he had bought and the stamps that he had 
 sold. Max, he thought, was not such a good sports- 
 man after all, and poor old Joe had been given away to 
 no purpose. If, however, a charge was to be brought 
 against him, it was a small consolation to be accused 
 of something that might impress Joe, and * sheer 
 contumacity ' ought surely to do that. 
 
 ' Sheer contumacity,' Max repeated, and then--— to 
 Ormsby's undisguised astonishment — the cloud that 
 had seemed to be settling over the proceedings sud- 
 denly lifted. 
 
 ' You are tired of running every day,* Max con- 
 tinued, * and I am not altogether surprised. You 
 shall have your holiday this afternoon, and I will 
 toboggan with you. To-morrow we will see whether 
 Runibold can do the wonderful things you have told 
 me.' 
 
 ' Thanks awfully, sir ; that's simply ripping ! ' 
 Ormsby exclaimed ; and then, to his credit, he thought 
 of Joe. ' Rumbold,' he added, ' ran a terrific way at 
 top speed yesterday. I expect he'll be feeling jolly 
 tired for a bit.' 
 
 But this remark was a mistake, and Ormsby 
 promptly wished that he had been less considerate of 
 Joe. 
 
 ' I have only one thing more to say to you,' Max 
 replied, * and that is to advise you during the next 
 few years to mind your own business. In that W9.y 
 
LIONS' DENS 271 
 
 you will probably save both yourself and me a lot of 
 trouble/ 
 
 ' ril try to remember, sir/ Ormsby said, and looked 
 at his watch. 
 
 * Yes, you will undoubtedly be very late,' Max 
 told him. 
 
 ' The bother is that I was late yesterday as well.' 
 
 ' Then your class-master will have something to 
 say to you, and, of course, Palmer will deal with 
 your absolute defiance of the rules of training.' 
 " ' I am quite ready to be beaten if I can only tobog- 
 gan first ; I always knew that I should be.' 
 
 ' And I sincerely hope Palmer will not disappoint 
 you,' Max said, and he hurried from the room before 
 Ormsby could explain that some of the less adven- 
 turous members of the Second Fifteen were not alto- 
 gether anxious to toboggan, if the price of that amuse- 
 ment was to be a beating from Palmer. 
 
 But, after all, the main thing was that Max had not 
 only given leave for them to toboggan, but had even 
 promised to toboggan with them. In the natural 
 fairness of things Max ought to share the punishment 
 if he took part in the pleasure, and although Ormsby 
 could not quite see Palmer beating Max, he meant to 
 put it to the more timid members of the squad that it 
 would be an outrageous swindle if they were not all 
 treated, alike. 
 
 Eventually Ormsby arrived pantingly in his class- 
 room, and began one of the stormiest mornings of 
 his life by a sharp encounter with Mr. Ussher, An 
 imposition for being late was only what he expected, 
 but he thought it a mean trick to put him on to say 
 * rep ' before he had recovered his breath. In a normal 
 condition, however, he could not have said a word of 
 the repetition, for the simple reason that he had not 
 made the smallest attempt to learn it. There had 
 
272 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 been far too much to think of, and to do, on the previous 
 evening without bothering about ' rep,' and the time 
 in which he might have hastily prepared some of his 
 work had been spent with Max. Mr. Ussher again 
 showered impositions upon him, and then called 
 upon Joe. But as only about half of the class had to 
 say ' rep ' on one morning, and Joe had been put on 
 during both of the previous lessons, he had given it 
 what he called a ' bye.' 
 
 ' I don't know it, sir,' he said, and he did not rise 
 from his seat. 
 
 * Stand up,' Mr. Ussher roared, ' and go on.' 
 
 Joe stood up, but he explained that he could not 
 ' go on,' because he had not learned the ' rep.' 
 
 Then Mr. Ussher broke forth into violent denun- 
 ciations. ' I thought,' he said, ' that I should catch 
 you if I put you on three times running. It's the 
 sly trick that the whole class is constantly trying to 
 play ; none of you can be trusted to do a stroke of 
 work if you can possibly avoid it.' 
 
 ' You never do trust us,' Joe muttered, though 
 what induced him to be so reckless he was never able 
 to explain. 
 
 ' What did you say ? ' Mr. Ussher asked him, and 
 the class wriggled with excitement. 
 
 But Joe merely stood and looked at him. Already 
 in the frying-pan, he began to think that even that 
 precarious position was preferable to the fire. 
 
 ' Are you deaf as well as incorrigibly lazy and im- 
 pertinent ? ' Mr. Ussher roared ; and Ormsby, who 
 had retired to the bottom of the class, gave a short 
 laugh and then proceeded to cough violently. 
 
 ' Incorrigibly ' was a word which Ormsby had once 
 told Joe ' sticks bang in my gullet,' and it had been 
 agreed with gusto that no master who was not a first- 
 rate rotter would ever use it. For Mr. Ussher to be 
 
LIONS' DENS 273 
 
 emphatically branded at this critical moment as a 
 ' rotter ' was unfortunate in one respect for Joe, 
 since it seemed to him that * incorrigibly ' sounded a 
 challenge which Ormsby would never dream of re- 
 fusing. 
 
 * I am neither deaf nor incorrigibly lazy, sir,' he 
 answered ; and, though he tried to speak calmly, 
 his tone was not a little combative. 
 
 ' Then tell me what you muttered to yourself.' 
 
 ' I said that you never trusted us ' 
 
 At this there was a faint murmur of assent from the 
 class, but Mr. Ussher ignored it. 
 
 ' Now tell me what you mean ? ' 
 
 The answer to this question was too obvious for Joe 
 to resist, and he promptly made it. 
 
 ' I meant what I said, sir,' he replied. 
 
 ' I am not going to bandy words with you. Tell 
 me at once what you mean,' Mr. Ussher retorted 
 immediately ; and * bandy words ' appealed so strongly 
 to Ormsby's sense of the ridiculous, that he was told 
 to go out of the room and not come back until he had 
 stopped coughing. 
 
 ' I am better already, sir,' he said in a smothered 
 voice. 
 
 ' Do as you are told at once, or you won't return 
 to the room for the rest of the morning,' Mr. Ussher 
 roared, and Ormsby jumped from his seat as if he was 
 thoroughly alarmed by this threat. 
 
 A momentary lull followed Ormsby's disappear- 
 ance. Mr. Ussher performed what the class called 
 * finger-work ' with his hair, and seemed to be trying 
 to remember what he had been doing before this com- 
 plication with Ormsby had set in, while Joe stood 
 watching the proceedings, and felt extremely inclined 
 to giggle. 
 
 • Now that we have got rid of that impudent boy. 
 
274 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 I will trouble you to tell me what you mean,' Mr. 
 Ussher, having regrasped the situation, said to Joe. 
 
 But before the latter could begin to explain his 
 meaning, the ' impudent boy,' looking a picture of 
 penitence and innocence, returned to the room. As 
 he sat down he said in a voice almost breaking with 
 what he intended to signify contrition, ' A little 
 tickling in my throat, sir, which I do not think will 
 occur again. I wish to apologize for making such a 
 disturbance.' 
 
 Mr. Ussher looked sternly at Ortnsby, but failed 
 to detect even a glimmer of a smile. Indeed, at 
 that moment Ormsby contrived to look as if he Was 
 sorrowing heavily over his own and Joe's misdeeds. 
 
 * If it does occur again, you will regret it,' Mr. Ussher 
 said. 
 
 * That, sir, was what I was trying to tell you,' 
 Ormsby replied with terrific gravity. 
 
 * There is no necessity for you to tell me anythifigf/ 
 Mr. Ussher, who never knew when to leave a boy 
 alone, replied. 
 
 * I will try to remember that, sir,' Ormsby said in 
 tones of the deepest respect. 
 
 The hour for repetition was slowly passing, and 
 several boys in the class, who, like Joe, had given their 
 ' rep ' a bye, began to hope that the whole time would 
 be taken up in exciting altercations. Ormsby, they 
 thought, had scarcely kept the ball rolling as long as 
 he might have done, but Joe was still in reserve, and 
 the fun with him might reasonably be expected to 
 last for several more minutes. 
 
 Once more at liberty, Mr. Ussher for the third time 
 turned on the main offender and asked him what 
 he meant ; but although Joe had been given ample 
 opportunity to think over his answer, he was still 
 very doubtful what it would be. Should he just say. 
 
LIONS* DENS 275 
 
 ' I don't know/ and let Mr. Ussher have a long and 
 triumphant innings, or should he really tell his class- 
 master what he believed to be the truth, and have 
 —so to speak— a run for his money ? He felt a joy in 
 the struggle, but it was a sombre joy. Given a reason- 
 able master, ha had not the smallest wish to consider 
 him an enemy. The hostility between Mr. Ussher 
 Itnd his class was due, Joe considered, wholly to Mr. 
 Ussber's determined idea that every boy was in- 
 stinctively a rogue and a villain. 
 
 And then, while Joe was stiU looking at Mr, Ussher 
 and wondering what he should say, the boy next to him 
 whispered : ' Keep it going, Rumbold ; I don't know 
 a word of my '' rep.'' ' And an appeal for help, even 
 of a totally selfish kind, was enough at that moment 
 to make Joe abandon the idea of not making a fight. 
 
 - 1 think, sir,' he said, and he blushed most vividly 
 a$ he spoke, ' that the reason why we— I mean I— 
 am not to be trusted is because you wouldn't trust 
 u^ if I was.' 
 
 * You speak so indistinctly that I don't under- 
 sta-nd you,' Mr. Ussher replied; but from the ex- 
 pression of fury on his face everyone knew that he 
 had both heard and— which was more to be won- 
 dered at — understood. Joe, however, having once 
 taken the plunge, set to work to leave no doubt 
 whatever about his meaning. 
 
 ' Go to the bottom of the class and come to me at 
 twelve o'clock : you will regret this. Kennedy,' 
 Mr. Ussher said, with a calmness that disappointed 
 those who had expected a more prolonged respite, 
 arid most thoroughly disgusted the boy whose name he 
 had mentioned. For Kennedy had also been ' on ' 
 during the previous lessons, and had to confess that 
 he could not say his/ rep.' 
 
 By this time, however, Mr. Ussher knew that he 
 
276 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 should have to hurry if he was to plumb the depths 
 of the iniquities of his class, and in turn Peacock, 
 Alderson, and Smallwood were called upon and found 
 wanting. In fact, the procession to the bottom of 
 the class coatinued until Miller, who looked like an 
 angel, and was the most daring and expert cribber in 
 the school, appeased Mr. Ussher's wrath by saying 
 his lines with apparent wracking of memory, but 
 really with his eyes glued on a page torn from the 
 book, which he had partially concealed behind a piece 
 of most innocent-looking blotting-paper. At once 
 Mr. Ussher expatiated on the difference between 
 Millar and the clump at the bottom of the class, and 
 while Miller listened to the praises showered upon 
 him, he removed the means by which he had gained 
 them into the safe seclusion of his pocket. 
 
 At twelve o'clock Mr. Ussher gave Joe a note, and 
 told him to take it at once to Dr. Manning. So far 
 Joe had been spared any private interview with his 
 headmaster, and he fully expected this one to be both 
 painful and short. Short it certainly was, but it was 
 not painful in the sense that he had anticipated. 
 The Man was on the point of leaving his room as Joe 
 entered it, and in less than no time the note was read 
 and the punishment inflicted. 
 
 ' Deliberate impertinence — gross laziness — bad ex- 
 ample to the rest of the class — ability which he 
 absolutely declines to use,' Dr. Manning muttered 
 while reading Mr. Ussher's complaint, and then tossed 
 the effusion neatly into the fire. 
 
 * Look here, Rumbold,' he said hastily, ' this won't 
 do. Don't let me hear of this again. Go to the office 
 and get five hundred lines of imposition paper, and 
 you can spend this extra half in seeing how silly you 
 are. Virgil's " ^Eneid " — and bring them to me to- 
 morrow at twelve. Now go.' 
 
LIONS' DENS 277 
 
 Joe went, and as he waited for his paper to be given 
 to him, he wished that the Man had not been in quite 
 such an obvious hurry. Mr. Ussher apparently could 
 just write what he liked, and although Joe did not feel 
 inclined to deny the charge of deliberate imperti- 
 nence, he would have liked to have said that he was 
 not grossly lazy. In short, he thought that Dr. 
 Manning might have taken the trouble to ask a few 
 questions before he convicted and sentenced him, 
 and he did not see any use in working hard if a master 
 like Mr. Ussher was to brand him as a slacker. 
 
 By the time he got back to Oakshotte he was angry 
 with both his headmaster and his class-master, and 
 was quite ready to join Ormsby in an orgie of abuse 
 of masters in general. 
 
 * It's an outrageous swindle : the Man ought to 
 have licked you and got it over,' Ormsby said as soon 
 as the state of affairs had been explained to him. 
 
 ' He was going off to play fives or something. He 
 scarcely read Ussher's note ; he just believed it. I 
 can't toboggan,' Joe replied, for during the morning 
 he had been told what -a sportsman Max was. 
 
 * Half a minute,' Ormsby said, and he began to rout 
 about in a drawer, which Joe had been forbidden to 
 use because the first chapter of the ' Life of Max,' 
 and other literary compositions, were supposed to 
 be hidden in it. ' Here we are,' Ormsby said ; ' I 
 bought them for a bob and sixpence from Piper last 
 term. Piper would sell his thumbs for five bob a 
 brace ; he only bought my stamps to get a profit on 
 them.' 
 
 Joe, however, was looking through a Virgil to see 
 if he could find a promising place to begin. 
 
 ' Shut that blooming book ; the job's done,' Ormsby 
 continued, and thrust five hundred lines of Virgil in 
 front of Joe's nose. 
 
278 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 Joe picked them up and looked at them greedily. 
 
 ' It will be a fair score off both Ussher and the Man. 
 Piper's always doing lines and selling them, and it's 
 a bit of luck that these are Virgil ; he charges more 
 for Virgil.' 
 
 ' I'm blowed if I can do that,' Joe said, and laid the 
 covered imposition paper on the table. 
 
 * Rot, it's a chance in a lifetime. You simply must 
 see Max tobogganing.' 
 
 * The writing isn't a bit like mine.' 
 
 ' The Head doesn't know your writing from Adam's.' 
 
 * Supposing he found out.' 
 
 ' Then he'll lick you, as he ought to have done this 
 morning.' 
 
 ' What about Piper ? ' 
 
 * Oh, he has to stand the risk ; they would only be 
 about twopence a hundred if he didn't know he might 
 be nabbed,' Ormsby said ; and as Joe did not seem to 
 be pleased with the idea, he went on to say that he 
 wished he had never bought the toboggans, and that 
 the whole afternoon would be spoiled, and that it 
 was simply rotten not to take such a chance. 
 
 * It is not,' he finished up, ' as if you deserved it ; 
 you do more work than most of the fellows in the class, 
 and twice as much as I do.' 
 
 ' I don't do half as much as I used to,' Joe said. 
 
 ' Let's rip up that new lot, and then we shall have 
 settled it,' Ormsby replied. 
 
 And as the bell rang for dinner Joe, with a queer 
 feeling of distaste for the whole affair, tore up the 
 unused paper, and Ormsby put it in the fire. 
 
 * There is no use in leaving that little lot lying about,' 
 he said. 
 
 ' Piper might have liked it,' Joe told him. 
 ' So he might ; what an ass I am,' Ormsby remarked, 
 and went off to dinner in the best of spirits. 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 WIND 
 
 For some reason known only to himself, Ormsby ex- 
 pressed a most ardent wish that Max would run in 
 shorts and socks. But this peculiar desire to see his 
 housemaster careering bare-legged through Granby 
 was not gratified, for Max dressed himself in grey 
 flannel trousers, and wore a blaz;er that had once been 
 blue but was now faded to a very rusty hue of grey- 
 ish brown. Nevertheless, clad as he was, he created 
 a considerable sensation when he appeared with the 
 Second Fifteen. • 
 
 Masters who did not like him shrugged their shoulders 
 and declared that it was even the most undignified 
 thing that he had dared to do. Mr. Ussher, into whom 
 the squad ran full-tilt as they turned a comer in Granby, 
 was disgusted beyond words when Max called out to 
 him : ' Come on, Ussher, a run will do you more good 
 than walking about in an overcoat and half a dozen 
 scarves.' Max did not wait for a repl3% and if he 
 had waited, Mr. Ussher was not in a fit state to make 
 one. For Joe's elass«master was rendered tempo- 
 rarily speechless by the sight of a middle-aged man 
 running with a lot of junior boys, 
 
 * We shall soon have him bowling a hoop up to 
 school in the mornings ; Lomax ought to be locked 
 
 279 
 
28o A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 up,' he muttered, and wrapped his scarf more tightly 
 round his neck. 
 
 Some of the young athletic masters considered 
 that Max was a rare old sportsman, and some of them 
 thought that he was a bit of a freak. But Max would 
 not have cared in the least if every master and boy in 
 Granby had assailed him with most hostile criticism, 
 for he was, in his opinion, putting his house in order, 
 and when he was so employed trifles like conventions 
 and magisterial dignity might go to the winds as far 
 as he was concerned. If one part of his nature was 
 solely tyrannical, he had also a part that was solely 
 boyish, and on this afternoon he not only intended to 
 enjoy himself like a boy, but he even managed to feel 
 very much like one. 
 
 Before, however, he began to toboggan, he had a 
 lengthy argument with the Durdington carpenter, 
 with the result that instead of Ormsby paying another 
 five shillings, the carpenter paid him half-a-crown. 
 
 ' Mr. Stokes,' Max explained to Ormsby, ' has 
 kindly promised to take these toboggans back with him 
 this evening. We are only hiring them for the after- 
 noon.' 
 
 ' How ripping,' was all Ormsby could manage to 
 say, as he pocketed his money and resolved to have 
 his stamps back from Piper. 
 
 And then, during the remainder of the afternoon. 
 Max took charge of the proceedings, and whether 
 flying down the hill or helping to pull a toboggan 
 back again, he entered into the spirit of the sport 
 with a whole-hearted enjoyment that brought forth 
 praises from every boy who was present. 
 
 ' Isn't he absolutely topping ! He's having the 
 time of his life,' Battersby kept on saying, his great 
 ambition being to go down with Max and help him to 
 pull the toboggan back. 
 
WIND 281 
 
 'Plenty of beaks wouldn't mind going down, but 
 they'd shy like two-year-olds at lugging the things 
 back again/ Crake declared. 
 
 'I shall write and tell Arkwright about this ; it's 
 a jolly lot better joke than any of those things 
 he's tried to work off on me,' Webster said very 
 solemnly. 
 
 ' Fancy old Boyd or Ussher doing this ; they'd 
 have half a dozen fits before they would get in to one 
 of these rickety things,' Cole announced. 
 
 Ormsby, however, was the boy who sang a per- 
 petual paean of praise. He was, so to speak, the 
 leader of the chorus, for he could not forget that his 
 toboggans would have been wasted if Max had not 
 behaved like ' the decentest beak alive.' So he 
 proclaimed his housemaster as the sport of sports, 
 tested beyond the shadow of a doubt — just IT, and 
 nothing else. A town-crier could not have used his 
 voice more sonorously. 
 
 Max would have been deaf indeed had he not heard 
 some of the remarks made about him, and some of 
 the comparisons that were drawn between him and 
 various other masters. But if he did not altogether 
 approve of this volubility, he, at any rate, took no 
 steps to discourage it. Loyalty to his fellovz-masters 
 had never been a conspicuous feature of his char- 
 acter — in fact, he had not infrequently astonished 
 the boys in both his class and house by the unbridled 
 way in which he spoke of his colleagues. In all such 
 matters he was a law to himself, but although he 
 enjoyed popularity when it came his way, it must 
 be said that he never sacrificed a single one of his 
 opinions to gain it. 
 
 ' Has anyone got a watch ? * he asked at last, when 
 both of the toboggans were at the top of the hill, 
 and no one answered. ' It isn't very likely that any- 
 
282 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 one would have/ he added, ' but it must be time for 
 us to go home/ 
 
 Then Ormsby beseeched him to let them have one 
 more turn, and when this request was granted there 
 was a scramble to get seats for the final ride. From 
 this rush Max stood aloof, forgotten by even Ormsby 
 and Battersby, while Joe rolled from his seat into 
 the snow before the toboggan had gone twenty yards. 
 
 * What frightful rot,' he mumbled, as he shook 
 some of the snow from his clothes, and then, looking 
 up the hill, he saw Max standing by himself. Even 
 convinced as he was that Max must, after all, be a 
 good sport, he had no overpowering desire to have 
 a tete-d'Ute with him. For whenever he was alone 
 with his housemaster he began to hunt for things to 
 say, which is the surest way of not finding them. 
 To avoid such a fruitless hunt Joe began to walk 
 slowly down the hill ; it looked rather rude, he knew, 
 but the alternative was too terrifying. And then Max 
 called to him, and there was nothing to do except 
 to go up the hill again. 
 
 * Have you enjoyed yourself ? ' Max asked him. 
 
 * Rather,' Joe answered. 
 
 ' You certainly look about a thousand times fitter 
 than you did last September.' 
 
 * I am awfully fit.' 
 
 * They tell me you can run.' 
 
 ' Who on earth told you that, sir ? ' Joe asked. 
 
 * As a matter of fact, Ormsby told me.' 
 
 * Oh, Ormsby ! ' Joe said, as if that settled the 
 matter. 
 
 * You don't seem to think much of Ormsby's 
 opinion ? ' 
 
 * Not when he says I can run ; he hasn't got much 
 of a wind, so he thinks anyone with a little bit of one 
 is a sort of wonder.' 
 
WIND 283 
 
 ' Then you don't think much of your wind ? ' 
 
 This seemed to Joe a most absurd question. ' Of 
 course I don't, sir/ he rephed. 
 
 ' Why " of course '' ? ' Max asked him. 
 
 ' Well/ Joe began, and scratched up a little heap 
 of snow with his boot, ' if I thought I had a wind I 
 should never say so.' 
 
 ' Why not ? ' 
 
 ' It wouldn't be good form, sir. Besides,' he added, 
 ' I don't suppose I have any wind to speak of.' 
 
 But Max was laughing too loudly to hear Joe's 
 disclaimer. 
 
 ' The real Headmaster of Granby is not Dr. Man- 
 ning, but a fellow called " Good-Form " ; he is a 
 Mede and Persian rolled into one, and it is about time 
 for someone to take a bomb and to blow him into ten 
 thousand pieces,' Max declared. 
 
 ' I always thought you were in favour of Granby 
 traditions, and all that-^ — -' Joe stopped to think 
 of a suitable word, and then added rather doubt- 
 fully, ' stuff.; 
 
 ' So I am/ Max replied, ' when there is some sense 
 in them ; but all this mock-modesty makes me furi- 
 ous. When Good-Form makes a good cricketer 
 pretend he isn't when he knows perfectly well he is, 
 it is encouraging the very worst kind of '' side." ' 
 
 What all this had to do with him, Joe couldn't 
 imagine, for he did not consider that he was mock- 
 modest, and to hear Max discussing modesty of any 
 kind made him feel almost irresistibly inclined to laugh. 
 
 Max, however, recovered quickly from his out- 
 burst against Good-Form, and looked critically at 
 Joe's bare legs. 
 
 ' You have heard,' he said, ' of the Stourford Run/ 
 
 ' Yes,' Joe replied, and wondered if it was possible 
 for legs to blush. 
 
284 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 ' Well, this year the Playground Committee have 
 decided that there is to be a shorter run for boys 
 under sixteen — about four miles/ 
 
 Joe saw his companions dragging the toboggans 
 slowly up the hill, and wished that they would hurry 
 up ; but he did not speak. 
 
 * You must enter for that race,' Max continued, 
 ' and win it/ 
 
 ' I have never won any race, unless you count an 
 egg-and-spoon race/ 
 
 ' I certainly don't,' Max said emphatically. 
 
 ' Nor do I,' Joe agreed. 
 
 ' The reason why you have never won a race is 
 probably because you have never tried, or perhaps 
 you have never found one that was long enough for 
 you.' ' 
 
 Such an idea as this at once set Joe's riotous imagi- 
 nation to work. He pictured himself wandering 
 over the world looking for a race long enough for him 
 to win. Mere Marathon races he rejected as if they 
 were sprints ; the sort of race he wanted was one 
 that would go on for several years, so that while it 
 lasted he would be left alone by such enthusiasts as 
 his father, Max, and Bingo. 
 
 'Have you ever tried to win a race ?' he heard 
 Max asking. 
 
 ' I used to start — everyone used to start ; it was a 
 sort of rag,' Joe replied. 
 
 ' That's just it ; it mustn't be a rag any longer. 
 You have a wind ' 
 
 ' But I'm not sure ' 
 
 ' You have a long wind,' Max continued, and, as 
 interruptions did not seem to improve matters, Joe 
 gave them up ; 'and it will please your father and me 
 very much if you train your hardest and win this 
 race/ 
 
WIND 285 
 
 * Good gracious/ was all that Joe could say; but 
 it by no means expressed his feelings, which were a 
 mixture of indignation with Ormsby and astonish- 
 ment at Max. 
 
 * Your trouble, Joe, is that you don't make up your 
 mind to win. As long as you think you can't do 
 anything, you won't do it. Promise me you will 
 try all you know to win this race.' 
 
 Max spoke with a gentleness that was most un- 
 usual, and Joe felt inclined just to say * Yes,' and 
 have done with it. But then he thought of the dis- 
 appointment that his running would ultimately cause, 
 and decided to prepare Max for it. 
 
 ' You see, sir,' he began, ' I'm not fifteen, and Ormsby 
 doesn't know ' 
 
 ' Promise,' Max interrupted. 
 
 ' All right, sir, I'll have a shot.' 
 
 ' An honest shot.' 
 
 * Yes ; but I'll bet I'm last, sir,' he replied, and then 
 rushed down the hill to meet the tobogganers. 
 
 The end of that afternoon was not so pleasant 
 for the Second Fifteen as the beginning, for all of them 
 were late for call-over, and Palmer resumed his in- 
 terest in the house by using his cane with what was 
 generally considered to be a total lack of justice and 
 mercy. 
 
 Several boys who had congratulated Ormsby on 
 his ' wheeze,' came indignantly to his room and asked 
 him what the blazes he meant by it. No one ever 
 fell from his pedestal of popularity with a more re- 
 sounding thud than Ormsby. 
 
 ' You're like a lot of chaps who go " tick " for things 
 at Mother Bloomfield's and never intend to pay her,' 
 he said in defence. And when asked to explain what 
 he meant, he declared that of course they had got to 
 pay for their afternoon's fun. ' I've paid twice,' 
 
286 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 he added ; ' Fm minus about fifteen bob and plus 
 five weals on my body.' 
 
 ' And a jolly good job too/ Crake, seeking con- 
 solation where he could find it, said. 
 
 ' 1/ Piper declared, ' shall go and report Palmer to 
 Max. I never meant to be licked all the time Fm 
 here, and now my record's gone.' 
 
 * Such a rotten record as that deserves to go/ 
 Harper, whose Adam's apple seemed to be careering 
 with excitement over the latest development of the 
 afternoon, announced. 
 
 ' If you go to Max, you'll make things a thousand 
 times worse. You've been licked, and I don't see 
 anything to grouse about,' Ormsby said. 
 
 But this cool way of taking things was not at all 
 to the taste of the fellows who had crowded into the 
 room. 
 
 'The only thing to do which is fair/ Webster at 
 length informed the meeting, ' is for our dormitory 
 to take a vote and see if we oughtn't to beat Ormsby.' 
 
 * What on earth for ? ' Joe asked. 
 
 * Because,' Webster replied, ' he got us to toboggan 
 under false pretences.' 
 
 ' Rats,' Harper remarked. 
 
 * It seems to me fair, don't you think so, Cole ? ' 
 Piper inquired. 
 
 * If you ask me, the man who wants beating is Max,' 
 Cole answered in his gruffest voice. 
 
 ' You're coming on. Cole,' Ormsby said ; and he 
 was the only fellow who was sitting down, and also 
 the only one who remained perfectly calm through 
 the proceedings. 
 
 Ultimately the meeting fulfilled Ormsby's expecta- 
 tions by breaking up without coming to any decision, 
 and when the last fellow had left the room, he turned 
 to Joe and yawned loudly. 
 
WIND 287 
 
 * Gas-bags/ he said. 
 
 ' Why did you go axid tell Max I had a wind ? * 
 Joe asked abruptly. 
 
 ' Has he buttoned on to that already ? I thought 
 you were a bit sulky coming home, I'm sorry, but 
 it had to be done/ Ormsby replied ; and as he did not 
 feel thoroughly pleased with himself, he got up and 
 poked the fire. 
 
 * YouVe let me in for a real bad time ; IVe got to 
 go in for the Junior Stourford Run, which the Play- 
 ground Committee have just arranged.' 
 
 ' Well, it won't hurt you to start. As far as that 
 goes, I'll start with you ; we can soon stop. I'm 
 one of the best starters and stoppers in England.' 
 
 * But I've promised Max I'll have an honest shot at 
 winning it,' Joe said. 
 
 'That's a nuisance,' Ormsby admitted ; ' but per- 
 haps you will win it.' 
 
 ' Don't talk such frightful rot ! ' Joe replied, and 
 picked up a book. 
 
 Ormsby, however, was not inclined to leave him 
 with what might be taken for a genuine grievance 
 unless it was properly sifted. 
 
 ' I'm really most awfully sorry, Joe,' he began — 
 ' I really am ; but I found Max in a good temper this 
 morning, and I guessed that if I just shot out your 
 wind at the right minute he'd let us toboggan. He's 
 deadly keen on you being an eighteen-carat Rumbold, 
 and you told me you meant to be. So where's the 
 harm ? ' 
 
 * I hate anyone gassing about me ; I shall look a 
 most awful ass when I finish last,' Joe said, without 
 looking up from his book. 
 
 * If it's any use to you I'll promise to finish behind 
 you. I'll go on finishing until it's dark. I'll stay up 
 all night ; but I will finish,' Ormsby declared. 
 
288 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 Joe, however, was not to be moved by this attempt 
 at facetiousness ; he merely grunted, and continued 
 to read. 
 
 * Look here, Joe — and for mercy's sake chuck that 
 mouldy book—don't go about with a hump. You 
 aren't made for humps, and the glooms don't suit 
 you a bit. Besides, you ought to be jolly grateful 
 to me.' 
 
 ' Why ? ' Joe asked, and he put the book upon the 
 table. 
 
 ' I shall have to think a little ; but, all the same, 
 I feel cocksure that, generally speaking, you owe me 
 tons of gratitude,' Ormsby assured him. 
 
 Joe reached for his book again, but Ormsby was too 
 quick for him. 
 
 ' No,' he continued ; ' I can't think if you read ; 
 but I know two reasons already why you ought to 
 be bubbling over with gratefulness.' 
 
 ' What are they ? ' Joe asked. 
 
 ' First, those five hundred lines this afternoon.' 
 
 ' That was decent of you,' Joe admitted ; ' but all 
 the same I feel sort of rotten about it.' 
 
 ' That will pass off all right. Anyhow, it's much 
 better than aching fingers.' 
 
 * What's the second thing ? ' 
 
 ' Why, bagging your pocket-book. You never 
 praised me half enough for that.' 
 
 ' There wasn't any reason why I should,' Joe said 
 without thinking ; and then realized that the truth 
 about that pocket-book would at last have to be told. 
 
 ' What on earth do you mean ? ' he heard Ormsby 
 asking; and in response to this question he related 
 what had happened on the night of Max's dinner- 
 party, and although Ormsby listened without any 
 comment, he began to look gloomier and gloomier. 
 
 ' So,' he said, when Joe had finished, ' you have let 
 
WIND 289 
 
 me go about for months hugging myself about that 
 rotten pocket-book, when you knew all the time that 
 I had done nothing/ 
 
 ' I got in a funk that you would get dropped on. 
 Whatever I did, I did it to save you,' Joe ex- 
 plained. 
 
 ' I hate being saved — and why the dickens couldn't 
 you tell me about it ? What's the good of keeping 
 things so precious dark ? Why can't you trust a 
 fellow a bit ? ' 
 
 ' I thought you would be in a bait,' Joe answered, 
 and grinned a little. 
 
 * I don't mind so much being saved as walking 
 about thinking I'd done you a good turn when you 
 really had done me one. I call that the sort of thing 
 a worm like Piper would do.' 
 
 * I always meant to tell you ; but you seemed to 
 forget all about the pocket-book and the whole affair.' 
 
 ' But of course I didn't,' Ormsby assured him. 
 ' I was simply wondering every day when Max would 
 find out ; just then I wanted to have a go at Max. 
 I was also simply bursting with pride at having dared 
 to bag the thing. Supposing I had burst.' 
 
 * Then I suppose I should have been hung, or some- 
 thing,' Joe said, and tried vainly to look solemn. 
 
 ' It's no use laughing ; you've played a low-down 
 game on me. You sort of walk about with all kinds 
 of things inside you that you never tell a soul, while 
 I blurt out everything to you. It isn't fair,' Ormsby 
 declared. 
 
 There was enough truth in this to make Joe think 
 before he answered. 
 
 ' All right,' he said at last, ' I'll try to blurt every- 
 thing out ; but you'll be bored stiff in a week.' 
 
 ' I'm ready to risk that as long as you will come 
 out of your rotten shell. Anyhow,' he added, 'I've 
 
 10 
 
290 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 got you over these lines ; you would never have tobog- 
 ganed if it hadn't been for me.' 
 
 ' I should have had writer's what-d'you-call-it by 
 this time,' Joe said. 
 
 ' Cramp,' Ormsby returned ; ' and you would have 
 had a kind of itching up the arm — I always do when 
 I have to write. I shall get it to-night, for old Ussher 
 has given me enough to last for hours.' 
 
 Without any more delay he started upon his im- 
 positions, outwardly, at any rate, quite cheerful now 
 that he had settled that Joe owed the afternoon's 
 fun to him. Apparently he had forgotten that Joe 
 had already paid for this fun by being beaten by 
 Palmer, and would have to pay again if Dr. Manning 
 discovered by whom the lines were really written. 
 
 Ormsby, however, was quite right in believing that 
 the Head was not likely to know Joe's handwriting, 
 but both he and Joe had forgotten that Mr. Ussher 
 had seen them running during the afternoon, and 
 might be even more suspicious than usual. 
 
 During preparation Joe had to write some Latin 
 verses, and even for such a master as Mr. Ussher he 
 could not prevent himself from trying to do them as 
 well as possible. Merely the rhythm of Latin verse 
 appealed urgently to Joe, though had he confided this 
 fact to Ormsby it woiSd have been received with open- 
 mouthed wonder. The thing to do with Latin verses, 
 Ormsby considered, was to get them over in the short- 
 est possible time, and by fair or foul means to make 
 them scan. Pursuing this plan he paid the smallest 
 attention to the English, and as long as he got the 
 quantities right he did not care in the least about 
 the quality. Some of the adjectives he applied to 
 most innocent nouns were courageous to the point 
 of foolhardiness, and he kept a string of pet and use- 
 ful words which he used continually. 
 
WIND 291 
 
 That Joe could possibly take an honest pleasure in 
 such a task would have been quite beyond his powers 
 of belief. Even masters themselves were beginning 
 to wonder whether it was any use to make fellows do 
 Latin verse, and that, Ormsby often declared, was the 
 most sensible thing that they had ever done. 
 
 On this evening, possibly because Ormsby was more 
 silent than usual, Joe managed to do some verses 
 which he told himself were not so frightfully ' bad,' 
 and when Mr. Ussher read them through while the 
 class were at ' Maths.' on the following morning he 
 was convinced — though not pleasantly convinced 
 — of their excellence. When Joe returned to his 
 class-room at twelve, Mr. Ussher called him ' up ' 
 and asked him what punishment the Head had given 
 him. 
 
 ' Five hundred lines,' Joe said, and blushed furi- 
 ously. 
 
 * When have you got to show up your imposi- 
 tion ? ' 
 
 ' Now, sir.' 
 
 * And yet you could run yesterday afternoon, and 
 had time to do your verses ? ' 
 
 ' I did run,' Joe admitted. 
 
 * Are your lines done ? ' Mr. Ussher asked, and this 
 question sent the unhappy Joe into an agony of doubt 
 and desperation. 
 
 If he said ' Yes ' Mr. Ussher would probably ask 
 to look at them, and if he said ' No ' the Head was 
 just waiting round the corner for him. Besides, 
 though in such a fix this was little more than inci- 
 dental, the one answer would be untrue and the other 
 true. 
 
 * No, sir, I have not done them,' he said at last. 
 
 * But I saw you carrying a lot of imposition paper 
 and putting it in your desk.' 
 
292 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 This, Joe felt, was extremely disastrous, but he 
 did not feel inclined to make any remark about it. 
 
 * Didn't you put it in your desk ? ' the inquisitor 
 asked. 
 
 ' Yes/ 
 
 * Then kindly bring it to me.' 
 
 If a stand was to be made, the time, Joe decided, 
 had come. It was absolutely useless, he felt sure, 
 to put up a fight ; still, with a man like Ussher, you 
 never quite knew what might happen. 
 
 ' Those lines are for the Head ; they have nothing 
 to do with anyone else,' he said. 
 
 * If you will excuse me, they are as much my con- 
 cern as the Head's. Fetch them.' 
 
 * But ' Joe began, and was immediately inter- 
 rupted. 
 
 ' Fetch them, or I shall go and fetch them myself,' 
 Mr. Ussher said, but he omitted to say that he had 
 already examined the imposition. 
 
 Then Joe went slowly to his desk, and handed up 
 Ormsby's present. 
 
 * Whose writing is this ? It most certainly is not 
 yours,' Mr. Ussher declared. 
 
 ' No, it is not mine.' 
 
 ' Whose is it ? ' 
 
 But although this question was repeated several 
 times, Joe resolutely refused to answer it. Piper, 
 without doubt, was falling into what Ormsby called 
 * the soup,' but Joe had no intention of hastening the 
 descent. 
 
 In the end he walked into the Head's room, carry- 
 ing with him the lines, a note from Mr. Ussher, and a 
 specimen of his own handwriting ; but, to his supreme 
 satisfaction, he found that the voice that had told him 
 to come in belonged to a servant who was preparing 
 to clean the windows. 
 
WIND 293 
 
 / If you want 'im/ the man said with a jerk of his 
 thumb towards the Head's chair, ' I reckon 'e's playin' 
 fives or sommut/ 
 
 ' Thanks ; I can do quite well without him/ Joe 
 replied. 
 
 * That's what most of 'em think who come in 'ere/ 
 the servant said, and gave the window a preliminary 
 rub. 
 
 Without stopping to place his various offerings 
 upon the table, Joe left the room and went back to 
 the house. A fine sleet — which looked like turning 
 into rain — was falling, and his doubts whether they 
 would have to run in such weather were quickly set 
 at rest. 
 
 ' Max has just been round, and there's no running 
 to-day. He wants us to go and play about in the 
 gym,' Grmsby said as Joe entered the room. 
 
 ' Piper and I are in for it,' Joe replied, and told the 
 whole story. 
 
 On this occasion, however, Ormsby did not listen 
 in silence. In fact, he most violently abused man- 
 kind in general, and Mr. Ussher in particular. He 
 also spent quite two minutes in bestowing peculiarly 
 unsavoury names upon himself. 
 
 ' I've landed you in this, and I've jolly well got to 
 get you out of it. It's really rather sport being stuck 
 fairly and squarely in the soup. We've got to go 
 and see Max. He's our man,' he poured forth. 
 
 Joe did not quite see where the sport came in ; 
 but as regards being ' in the soup,' it was, so to speak, 
 his soup and not Ormsby's. 
 
 ' You are not in this, anyway. I took the lines, 
 and have got to stand the racket,' he said. 
 
 ' I am in it, up to the eyes in it, and whether we go 
 and see Max singly or together, I'm going to see him 
 — and the sooner the better/ Ormsby declared. 
 
294 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 From this determination nothing that Joe could say 
 would turn him, and finally they went and put the 
 whole case before Max. 
 
 ' Let me talk,' Ormsby begged Joe, as they went 
 up the passage ; * our only dodge is to make out you 
 never deserved the impot in the first place, and that 
 the whole thing's a swindle.' 
 
 Whether Max believed this view of the case, which 
 was mightily insisted upon by Ormsby, neither of 
 them ever knew. But he certainly listened to it with 
 some patience, and apart from two or three very 
 disagreeable remarks about dishonesty and lies, he 
 did not appear to be particularly angry with them. 
 
 * Leave this to me,' he said. ' I will see Dr. Man- 
 ning this afternoon, and you ' — ^he looked at Joe — 
 * will hear more about it. As for you, Ormsby, you 
 seem to have elected yourself counsel for the defence, 
 a very voluble one, too ; but your part in the affair 
 is now over.' 
 
 ' I persuaded him to do it. I gave him the lines,' 
 Ormsby hastened to reinform him. 
 
 ' Who wrote the lines ? ' Max asked, and looked 
 from one to the other. 
 
 But neither of them answered, and Max did not 
 repeat the question. 
 
 * The meanest thing about the whole despicable 
 business is that some boy should write lines, and, I 
 have no doubt, sell them. I've heard of that hap- 
 pening before,' he said, and then, to their intense 
 astonishment, he tore the lines into several pieces, 
 and only retained one piece. 
 
 * We did well to go to him,' Ormsby told Joe after 
 the interview was over ; ' but I expect Piper will 
 catch it hot.' 
 
 And in this expectation he was quite right. For, 
 although Joe was caned by the Head and compelled 
 
WIND 295 
 
 to listen to a most perfunctory 'jaw/ Max quickly 
 discovered that Piper was the lines-merchant, and 
 dealt with him in a way that reduced that acquisi- 
 tive youth to wailing and gnashing of teeth. But not 
 a single fellow in Max's could be found to sympathize 
 with his lamentations, for the feeling in the house 
 was that although a boy who sold lines was occasion- 
 ally useful, he was always contemptible. 
 
 After a day of sleet and drizzle, the frost broke up 
 completely, and left the Playing-fields in a state of 
 indescribable slush and mud. Efforts were made to 
 play football, but the turf suffered so much that the 
 Playground Committee met and decided — to Max's 
 disgust — that the Second Fifteen Challenge Cup 
 would not be competed for. 
 
 Hockey and training for the sports, fives, rackets, 
 and the ' gym ' competition were, however, really 
 enough to distract boys from overworking themselves, 
 and Max pounced upon Joe, as a hawk does upon a 
 sparrow, and talked daily about the Short Stourford 
 Run. 
 
 That his wind was not just a thing of a day Joe 
 found out directly he began to train under Max's 
 and Palmer's supervision ; but when he looked at 
 some of his year-older opponents, he did not imagine 
 for a second that in the race he should see anything 
 but their backs — and those only in the far distance. 
 Nevertheless, having made a promise, he faithfully 
 kept it. He ate what he was told to, and no more ; 
 he ran as he was ordered, and rubbed his legs when- 
 ever he could remember that this was a part of the Max- 
 ian system of training — in short, he became a kind of 
 machine out of school, and in school his work went 
 to the dogs. 
 
 But to all appearances Max was very pleased with 
 him, and as Cole seemed to have forgotten his feud. 
 
296 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 and Rose had ceased to be of any importance in the 
 house, Joe was so contented with Hfe that he gave 
 up working for Mr. Ussher without any regret. If 
 not a Rumbold aheady, he began to think that he 
 must be one in the making. 
 
BOOK III 
 THE TURN OF THE TIDE 
 
 297 
 
CHAPTER I 
 
 THE RACE 
 
 WHEN Mr. Rumbold saw Joe on the morning of 
 the race, he looked him over from top to toe. 
 
 ' YouVe got a good colour/ he said ; ' but to my 
 mind you seem a bit fine-drawn. Has Mr. Lomax 
 been over-training you ? ' 
 
 ' He's been very decent about it, and most fear- 
 fully keen/ Joe answered. 
 
 ' It looks to me as if he had been too keen. You 
 are as thin as a herring naturally ; it isn't as if you 
 were a mass of fat like that boy Street you intro- 
 duced to me.' 
 
 Perhaps Max was too enthusiastic to be a wise 
 trainer, for as rest was never a remedy he prescribed 
 for himself, it did not occur to him that anyone else 
 was likely to benefit from it. 
 
 Nevertheless, Joe had enjoyed his weeks of train- 
 ing, rigorous though they had been. His worry had 
 not been the preparation for the race, but the result 
 of it. With all his might he had tried to prevent his 
 father and brothers from coming to see him run, but 
 his efforts had been as futile as Ormsby had warned 
 him they would be. 
 
 Mr. Rumbold, Flip, Jumpy, Pads, and Bingo had 
 all arrived from various directions on the morning 
 of the race, and Joe*s room — so Ormsby declared — 
 
 299 
 
300 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 had become a loose-box into which crowds of Rum- 
 bolds came to inspect the youngest of their family. 
 
 ' 1/ Ormsby said to Joe, when the inspection was 
 over and the Rumbolds had gone to lunch, ' am the 
 old cob that keeps the thoroughbred quiet. Every 
 crack race-horse has to have a kind of mongrel hang- 
 ing on to his tail, or he won't eat. I'm the mongrel.' 
 
 But now that the time for the race was rapidly 
 approaching, Joe was far too nervous to reply to 
 Ormsby with any spirit. 
 
 * They didn't take much notice of you,' he ad- 
 mitted. 
 
 ' Your father nodded, and the one you call Pads 
 was all right. The rest of them in a bunch are, per- 
 haps, a bit much. I think one of them might have 
 remembered that I also am a starter in this race. 
 No one has ever troubled to train me. I've been 
 abominably neglected ; but I mean to start,' Ormsby 
 replied. 
 
 ' It's awfully decent of you,' Joe said, and then the 
 dinner-bell rang. 
 
 During the meal Max was busy with final advice, 
 but the only consolation Joe could find in the ap- 
 proaching exhibition was that his mother was not 
 going to see it. 
 
 'Please don't come/ he had written to her. *I 
 know Max thinks I can run, and I expect he's told 
 father all about it, but I can't run fast enough. There 
 are some great, whopping men in this race, sort of 
 sixteen-to-morrow kind of people, and there's one 
 fellow called Macdonald in Frensham's who everyone, 
 except Max, says is bound to win by miles. But as 
 long as I finish before everyone has gone away I shan't 
 mind, and I may not be absolutely last, because 
 Ormsby, who has been training on new bread and tons 
 of cake, says he means to finish if he has to stay up 
 
THE RACE 301 
 
 all night to do it. I have promised to go out with a 
 lantern to look for him, if he's still finishing when it's 
 dark/ 
 
 The Long Stourford Run which started at half-past 
 two was won with ridiculous ease by Armitage, and 
 this success in the senior race made Max almost child- 
 ishly anxious that his house should bring off the double 
 event. He buzzed round Joe like an inquisitive 
 blue-bottle : but Ormsbv stuck close to his stable- 
 companion, and beguiled the period of waiting with 
 a never-ceasing flow of comments upon their fellow- 
 competitors. 
 
 Joe, however, scarcely pretended to listen, for the 
 more he inspected the runners who were ' under six- 
 teen ' the more ludicrous did he feel. Macdonald 
 seemed to have grown several inches in the night ; 
 Reece, Compton, Drummond, Ellis, and Mills-Lewis 
 all looked as if they could cover about two yards in 
 a single stride ; while Battersby, who had just won 
 the Junior Gym competition, and who wished that the 
 race was forty miles instead of four, kept on hopping 
 about and assuring Ormsby that he had never felt 
 fitter in his life. 
 
 ' Do you mean to finish ? ' Ormsby asked him. 
 
 * I mean to have a jolly good shot at winning,' 
 was the reply, and Ormsby laughed, for Battersby 
 was built rather for feats of strength than for running, 
 and was nearly as broad as he was long. 
 
 ' Halloa, you've got to start,' Pads came up to Joe 
 and said. ' Do your best, and don't care a bit what 
 happens,' he added, and with this encouragement 
 Joe took his place in the long line. 
 
 The race began in the Plajdng-fields, and after the 
 competitors had passed through the gates, they had 
 to cover two miles in winding roads, and then run 
 over about a mile of the Granby Common until they 
 
302 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 reached the London Road, which led them straight 
 back to the finish at the starting-point. 
 
 * You will have the wind dead in your face crossing 
 the Common. Don't fluster yourself there. Let them 
 race for the lead, if they want to. You keep yourself 
 for that last mile, and you will catch the whole lot 
 of them — and win,' Max had said to Joe during 
 dinner, and Ormsby had promptly declared that it 
 was advice that he should most carefully remember. 
 
 However, when the pistol was at last fired, Ormsby 
 was bitten with the brilliant idea of getting first out 
 of the Playground, and so he started as if he was run- 
 ning a quarter-mile ; but Joe, getting badly jostled 
 in the crowd, was nearly last when he passed through 
 the gates. The next mile was merely a procession, 
 for no one except Ormsby seemed to be inclined to 
 force the pace, and he, after keeping the lead until 
 he was nearly windless, saw a primrose in the hedge 
 and calmly stopped to pick it. With the flower in 
 his mouth, he waited for Joe and then ran beside him. 
 
 * Good egg/ he said, ' there are at least seven fellows 
 behind us, and one of them is old Battersby, panting 
 like ten engines. Are you pumped yet ? ' 
 
 ' No,' Joe said, and gave a kind of gurgling laugh. 
 
 * Well, stick to it,' Ormsby told him. ' I'm going 
 to leave you now and have a single with Battersby. 
 I believe I'll finish in front of the old brute.' 
 
 Then Ormsby finally disappeared, and Joe began 
 steadily to improve his position. Every now and then 
 he passed a small cluster of fellows who, having run 
 themselves to a standstill, had propped themselves 
 up against gates or each other. 
 
 When he came to the Common, Joe was in the first 
 twenty, but the leaders looked to him to be hopelessly 
 far away. Nevertheless, he remembered Max's advice, 
 and with the wind whistling in his face he made no 
 
THE RACE 303 
 
 attempt to catch those in front of him. The worst 
 of it, he thought, as he ran smoothly over the Common, 
 was over, for at any rate he was practically bound to 
 finish within two or three shouting distances of the win- 
 ner, and that was as much as he had ever expected to 
 do. Visions of pleasing his father began to dance 
 before his eyes, and during the last mile he hoped 
 that he might be able to overtake a few more of the 
 fellows in front of him. Racing, in fact, was rather 
 fun after all ; he felt the thrill of it, and the desire to 
 pursue the leaders until he dropped. 
 
 But before he had done with that Common the wis- 
 dom of Max's advice was abundantly evident. One 
 boy stopped suddenly, and, with his head bent towards 
 the ground, seemed to be searching patiently for some- 
 thing he had lost. Two fellows running side by side 
 stumbled and fell, and then sat on the grass and tried 
 to find breath enough to abuse each other. And just 
 as he was leaving the Common he passed a small 
 group who looked as forlorn as a bunch of tired waiters. 
 Two of them, Joe noticed with terrific pleasure and 
 surprise, were Drummond and Compton. Things, 
 he decided, were certainly looking up. 
 
 There were, however, a dozen fellows still ahead of 
 him, and the leader was over a hundred yards away. 
 To catch him looked altogether out of the question, 
 but as he came on to the London Road, he knew that 
 the time had come when Max expected him to think 
 of spurting. But could he spurt ? His wind was 
 sound enough, but his legs began to feel abominably 
 as if they belonged to someone else. It was as if the. 
 top of his body wanted to go on and on, and as if the 
 lower part refused to move. Still he had got, he told 
 himself, to put on speed, and with a tremendous effort 
 he succeeded in spurting until he had passed eight more 
 fellows. And then, try as he would, he could not get 
 
304 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 any nearer to the boy in front of him. Running some 
 ten yards directly behind him, Joe became absolutely 
 dead to everything except the terrific necessity of 
 diminishing that gap. To finish in front of one more 
 fellow was his sole aim and hope. He had no idea that 
 the boy whom he was trying to catch was rapidly 
 overhauling the leaders ; he was totally oblivious of 
 the shouts that were arising as he drew nearer and 
 nearer to the finish. And when he at last saw the 
 big gates of the Playing-fields, he had an extraordinary 
 notion that someone had been moving them while he 
 had been running. 
 
 The shouts were now so terrific that they sounded 
 to him like a confused roar ; they buzzed in his ears 
 and vaguely worried him ; but, try as he would, he 
 could get only a little nearer to that great striding 
 fellow in front of him, and as he passed through the 
 gates he felt suddenly as if he was going to fall. And 
 then he heard a shout close to his ear : * Spurt, Joe, 
 and youVe got them ; they are all done to the world.' 
 
 He knew that this was Max's command, and some- 
 how or other it had got to be obeyed. So he made 
 one more effort and blindly forced himself on. In- 
 stinct guided him, for he could scarcely see where he 
 was going ; but in that final rush towards the spot 
 where an immense crowd seemed to be gathered, the 
 thought that his father and Max were watching 
 flashed through his brain, and helped him to make a 
 most determined and desperate spurt. 
 
 But of that spurt, or of what happened directly 
 afterwards, he could remember nothing, for as soon as 
 he passed the post he promptly collapsed ; and the 
 next thing he was conscious of was that he was lying 
 on the ground, and that someone was saying : * Hell 
 be all right in a minute. Give him air.' Then every- 
 one seemed suddenly to vanish, and presently he be- 
 
THE RACE 305 
 
 came aware of a most horrible taste in his mouth. 
 Two or three times he tried to get rid of this annoy- 
 ance by swallowing, and by sending his tongue for 
 short journeys round his mouth ; but as these efforts 
 only made things worse, he sat up and saw his father, 
 Max, and a lot of other people staring at him. 
 
 ' IVe simply got a vile taste in my mouth,' he said. 
 
 ' It's brandy,' someone told him ; and then his 
 father came up to him and added : * Are you all right 
 now ? Can you get up ? How do you feel ? ' 
 
 * Sort of groggy ; but 111 get up. Where's my 
 coat ? ' he asked, and at this question both Armitage 
 and Palmer began to laugh. 
 
 * I think the first thing I should have asked is whether 
 I had won ? ' Armitage said ; but as Max was al- 
 ready helping him into his coat Joe did not hear this 
 remark. 
 
 ' Perhaps he knows,' Palmer told Armitage. 
 
 * Not he ; he was absolutely blind to the world,' 
 the latter replied, and went on laughing. This ap- 
 parent indifference to the result of the race struck 
 him as quite the funniest thing that had ever happened. 
 Then when Joe was properly clad once more, his father 
 patted him warmly on the back. 
 
 ' Well run, my boy ; I am proud of you,' he said. 
 
 * Thanks awfully,' Joe mumbled ; and as he walked 
 slowly away with his father and Max, several fellows 
 said : ' Well run, Rumbold,' as he passed them. 
 
 ' Where did I finish ? ' he looked at Max and asked 
 rather shamefacedly. 
 
 ' Don't you know ? ' Max replied. 
 
 * I don't remember anything about the finish, ex- 
 cept that there were a lot of us all close together.' 
 
 * The judges said Macdonald won by a foot — you 
 were second, and Reece was third,' Mr. Rumbold 
 said ; but he did not look altogether pleased. 
 
3o6 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 ' Both your father and I think that you made a 
 dead-heat of it ; but it is no use to dispute the referee. 
 The judges disagreed/ Max added. 
 
 * Rather not/ Joe said, and felt far too astonished 
 to dispute anything. 
 
 * All the same, I am positively certain that Joe 
 caught him on the tape. "Don't you remember touch- 
 ing the tape ? ' Mr. Rumbold asked. 
 
 But Joe shook his head. * I am jolly glad to have 
 been second,' he said. * I never thought I would be 
 anywhere near.' 
 
 * Being second would be right enough if you had not 
 really been equal first,' Mr. Rumbold declared in his 
 most argumentative voice. 
 
 * After all, the referee is in the best position to 
 see,' Max ventured to say, * and Joe did very well 
 indeed.' 
 
 ' Of course he did. What, however, I insist upon 
 is that he ' 
 
 ' Where's Pads ? ' Joe suddenly asked. 
 
 ' He went to send a wire to your mother,' Max 
 replied. 
 
 * What I insist upon ' Mr. Rumbold continued. 
 
 But again he was interrupted, for as they went through 
 the gates of the Playing-fields they met Dr. Manning, 
 who was evidently both annoyed and excited. 
 
 * These races for small boys must never take place 
 again, Lomax. They are a great mistake,' he said. 
 ' I've had about a dozen parents bamboozling me out 
 of my life. We can't have boys falling all over the 
 place and being given brandy. It's wrong, absolutely 
 wrong. Look at that boy ; he looks as white as a 
 sheet now/ 
 
 ' Why, you yourself were in favour of this race, 
 and I have never seen a finer finish in my life/ Max 
 replied. 
 
THE RACE 307 
 
 * A lot of silly old women ! ' Mr. Rumbold declared ; 
 but Dr. Manning paid no attention to him. 
 
 ' If/ he said to Max, ' I was ever in favour of this 
 race — and I don't remember expressing a very def- 
 inite opinion — I have changed my mind. That boy 
 is evidence enough against such races. They create 
 a prejudice against the school — a prejudice.' 
 
 At this moment, however, Joe caught sight of Har- 
 per slyly beckoning to him, so he dodged behind Max 
 and crossed the road. 
 
 ' I thought you'd be glad to get away from the Man 
 and Max. Who is the other old buster ? ' Harper 
 asked. 
 
 ' He's my father.' 
 
 ' Oh ! ' Harper exclaimed, and after a pause he 
 added, * I didn't know it was a sort of family gather- 
 ing. Perhaps you'd better go back.' 
 
 ' Not I. Here's Pads coming. He's my brother,' 
 Joe said. 
 
 ' Street told me you had a whole flock of brothers 
 and things down here to-day. I might have known 
 you were talking to your father,' Harper replied. 
 
 ' I don't talk much to my father ; he talks to me,' 
 Joe explained. * Don't clear out. Pads is a most 
 awfully decent sort.' 
 
 ' Well run, young fellow,' Pads said as he met them ; 
 ' you would have won in another stride. I've been 
 wiring to the mater. Flip, Jumpy, and Bingo went 
 off to play rackets. Where's the Governor ? ' 
 
 ' He's talking to the Man and Max. The Man's 
 sick about brandy and things. Do you know Harper ? ' 
 
 Harper held out a limp hand, and muttered that 
 Joe would have the race * sitting ' next year. 
 
 ' Next year's a long way off,' Pads replied. ' And 
 what you'd better do now, Joe, is to go back to the 
 house at once and have a hot bath, then stick on your 
 
3o8 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 biggest coat and come to tea at Mother Bloomiield's. 
 ril come and fetch you/ 
 
 And then he asked Harper if he would hke to come 
 with Joe. 
 
 ' Yd hke to, but I don't think I will. I'd be in the 
 way/ was the reply, and in his agitation his Adam's 
 apple became positively frisl<;y. 
 
 * Rot ! ' Joe hastened to say. ' You can do my 
 share of the eating. I don't feel as if I could do 
 anything but drink.' 
 
 The tea-party that followed ' in Mother Bloom- 
 field's private room was, for some months, an event 
 which Harper liked to mention on every possible 
 occasion. Mr. Rumbold, Flip, Jumpy, Bingo, Pads, 
 Palmer, Armitage, and West attended it, and Harper, 
 whose worship of * bloods ' amounted to a breach of 
 the first commandment, found himself sitting between 
 Pads and Palmer ; but the fact that he had the former 
 to look after him was entirely due to Joe. 
 
 For no sooner had the hero of the day come into the 
 room and seen who was there, than he blushed most 
 furiously and button-holed Pads. 
 
 ' You awful brute,' he said ; ' you would have had 
 to drag me here by the scruff of the neck if I'd known. 
 Do stop the pater jawing. Old Harper will have a 
 fit. He isn't used to " bloods." You'll have to sit 
 next to him and cram him up with food. I wish 
 Ormsby was here ; he'd see the comic side of it. I 
 left him a message to say where I'd gone.' 
 
 * I'll work hard,' Pads assured Joe ; and in all 
 truth he was as good as his word. 
 
 For the Rumbolds in conclave and good spirits 
 were rather boastful, and on this occasion the head of 
 the family intended to say * a few words ' to show how 
 pleased he was that Joe had blossomed forth into an 
 athlete worthy of his name. Indeed, Mr. Rumbold 
 
THE RACE 309 
 
 was inclined to think that he had scarcely done jus- 
 tice to his youngest son, and out of consideration to 
 his own feelings he intended to make up for any sins 
 of omission he might have committed. 
 
 This was, in short, to be Joe's evening ; and Joe, 
 knowing from experience that his father never missed 
 a chance of making a speech, sat down with the fixed 
 determination of preventing that chance from ap- 
 pearing. How on earth this was to be done he could 
 not imagine ; but Pads was a good man to have on 
 his side, and if a real crisis arose he was fully prepared 
 to say that he felt ill, and to fly. Fortunately, as far 
 as he was concerned, congratulations were first of all 
 poured upon Armitage, who tried to escape from them 
 by saying that Joe's performance was really far better 
 than his. At this Joe found himself in the extraor- 
 dinary position of making faces at Armitage, who 
 was sitting next to him, and of telling him peremp- 
 torily to shut up. To treat a school-prefect in this 
 way was, Joe felt, a gigantic piece of cheek, and he 
 was relieved to find that Armitage seemed only to be 
 amused by it. 
 
 ' What's the matter with you ? ' he asked Joe. 
 
 * Please keep me out of it. You don't know my 
 father ; he's awfully keen on making little speeches, 
 and I don't want him to jaw about me. I'm fear- 
 fully afraid he will, if he gets a chance,' was the reply. 
 
 ' But how the dickens are we to stop him ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, sort of keep things going. If you happen to 
 know a joke, please tell it.' 
 
 ' I don't.' 
 
 ' Not even a bad one ? It doesn't matter how 
 bad it is as long as it lasts a good time,' Joe said. 
 
 Armitage thought hard for a minute, but then had 
 to confess that he could not even remember a bad 
 ioke. 
 
310 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 So far Mr. Rumbold had been talking to Palmer, 
 West, and Bingo about the house, and incidentally 
 about the things Joe was evidently going to do for 
 it, but just at the moment when Armitage gave up 
 trying to think of a joke there was a lull in the con- 
 versation, and Mr. Rumbold audibly cleared his 
 throat. This peculiar noise, Joe knew, was the 
 prelude to what he was most anxious to avoid, but 
 except for a wink, which he aimed across the table 
 at Harper, and which in his agitation seemed to have 
 been misdirected and to have hit West, he could not 
 think of anything to do. And then, as Mr. Rumbold 
 was pushing his chair back and rising to his feet, 
 someone was heard hurrying down the passage, and 
 Ormsby burst into the room. 
 
 For a few seconds he stood and looked in amaze- 
 ment at the tea-party, and then, taking off his cap, 
 he said : * I'm most awfully sorry ; I thought Joe 
 was here alone with two or three fellows.' 
 
 * Come on, there's room next me,' Joe told him, 
 and squeezed up nearer to Armitage. 
 
 Under the circumstances, there was nothing for 
 Mr. Rumbold to do but to welcome the intruder and 
 temporarily to resume his seat, and after a little quick 
 whispering between Ormsby and Joe, the former 
 declared that he would save the situation if he had to 
 talk himself silly. Without waiting to think, he at 
 once addressed Mr. Rumbold. 
 
 ' I'm most awfully sorry, sir, to have burst in like 
 this,' he began ; ' but I've been sort of looking after 
 Joe, and I feel prouder of his finishing second than he 
 does.' 
 
 * It was really a dead-heat,' Mr. Rumbold said. 
 
 * I'll bet it was,' Ormsby declared, ' and I wish I'd 
 been there to see it ; but I suppose that I was about 
 three miles away when Joe finished. But I led at 
 
THE RACE 311 
 
 the start, sir ; for about a quarter of a mile I was all 
 by myself, with no one to talk to/ 
 
 ' Ah, you wouldn't like that,' Mr. Rumbold said ; 
 but apart from kicking Joe under the table Ormsby 
 ignored this remark. 
 
 ' I simply hated it,' he agreed ; ' but I'd told Joe 
 I'd finish, and I did. Battersby, Royce, a chap I 
 picked up on the way and who is a most awfully 
 decent sort when you get to know him, and I, had 
 another finish all to ourselves about half an hour 
 ago. Royce won, but I beat Battersby. Our time 
 for the whole course when we worked it out was 
 one hour, forty-five minutes, thirty-seven four-fifths 
 seconds. Royce made it two minutes longer, and 
 Battersby five minutes shorter. That's awfully like 
 Battersby. Do you know him, sir ? ' 
 
 Mr. Rumbold replied that he did not, and his man- 
 ner suggested that he was not anxious to make Bat- 
 tersby's acquaintance. 
 
 But in response to Joe's request that he should 
 keep it going, Ormsby burst forth into details of the 
 race as he had run it. In the course of this strenuous 
 contest he had discovered that Royce had a maiden 
 aunt whose great desire was that her nephew should 
 be an athlete. * You see, sir,' he continued, * the only 
 thing Royce is ever Hkely to v/in a pot for is driving a 
 car; he's over-grown and he's weedy and knock- 
 kneed and a bit splay-footed ; but if they would 
 have a pot for driving cars he would have no end of 
 a chance. We talked a lot about cars, and he's full 
 of wheezes.' 
 
 ' I detest motor-cars,' Mr. Rumbold said emphati- 
 cally. 
 
 ' Royce says we shall all have to come to them, 
 even perambulators,' Ormsby replied sadly, for he 
 had come to the end of his tether, and was beginning 
 
312 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 to think that he had made what he considered * a 
 complete ass ' of himself, to no purpose. And, as a 
 matter of fact, he had aroused such strong antagonis- 
 tic feelings in Mr. Rumbold that he was not to see the 
 inside of Maiden Croft for a considerable time. 
 
 Again the chairman made preparatory noises in 
 his throat, but on this occasion Joe was destined to 
 be saved by Palmer. 
 
 ' I am very sorry to go, sir,' he said, ' but it is nearty 
 time for call-over, and I have got to take it.' 
 
 * You had better cut back to the house,' Pads said 
 to Joe, who was already standing up and saying as 
 plainly as he could without words that the party was 
 over. 
 
 * I think Mr. Lomax will excuse Joe from call-over 
 this evening. I want to speak to him,' Mr. Rumbold 
 announced, and Palmer said that he could explain 
 why Joe was absent. 
 
 The real danger, however, had passed, for Joe did 
 not niind what his father said provided that a lot of 
 other fellows did not hear it. But Mr. Rumbold had 
 been considerably ruffled by the audacity of Ormsby, 
 and when that loquacious guest had departed, he left 
 a disturbed atmosphere behind him. 
 
 * I am pleased with you, Joe, very pleased,' his father 
 said ; 'but I really cannot understand on what system 
 you choose your friends.' 
 
 * I don't choose them on any system — they just 
 come,' Joe remarked. 
 
 ' Take,' said Mr. Rumbold, and he began to tap the 
 fingers of his left hand with the first finger of his right, 
 * the boys to whom you have introduced me to-day. 
 First of all, Street — a mere porpoise.' 
 
 ' He is fat,' Joe admitted ; ' but he's sort of soothing.' 
 ' Then Harper, who looked as if he was going to 
 choke every minute, and never wished me good-bye.' 
 
THE RACE 313 
 
 * He was a bit of a fluke/ Joe explained ; * he just 
 happened to come along and got asked. He's all 
 right, really, only he's very shy, and gets jumpy when 
 there are a lot of bloods about/ 
 
 ' And, lastly, Ormsby — a most ill-mannered boy. 
 I must insist that you cultivate that boy's acquaint- 
 ance as little as possible ; ' and at this command Joe 
 ceased to look amused. 
 
 ' You don't know Ormsby ; when you really ' 
 
 he began. 
 
 ' I don't wish to know any more of him than I un- 
 fortunately do,' Mr. Rumbold interrupted. 
 
 ' But he is simply priceless,' Joe declared. 
 
 ' What you actually mean by *' priceless " I do not 
 know,' Mr. Rumbold replied ; * but if it is intended to 
 convey a recommendation, I do not agree with it.' 
 
 ' Priceless means anything,' Joe hastened to explain. 
 * It depends what it is stuck on to. You may be a 
 priceless ass, or just — ^well, priceless.' 
 
 Mr. Rumbold shook his head. * I still fail to see 
 the meaning of the word ; but we were talking about 
 Ormsby,' he returned, and he continued to talk until 
 Pads came to tell him that his carriage was waiting. 
 
 ' Remember what I have said. I am very annoyed 
 •with that boy ; but you ran well — very well,' were 
 his last words to Joe, and the latter went back to the 
 house wishing to goodnesss that Pads had never 
 thought of giving a tea-party. 
 
 To abandon his friendship with Ormsby was, he 
 considered, totally impossible, even if he wished to do 
 so. How was he, he asked himself, to live in the same 
 room with a fellow and not be friends with him ? 
 And what would Ormsby have to say about it ? It 
 was just possible that Ormsby would flare up and 
 say that of course he wasn't fit to be friends with a 
 Rumbold. He did occasionally say things of that kind, 
 
314 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 although Joe was convinced by now that he did not 
 mean them. Nevertheless, it was no use to give 
 Ormsby an opportunity to get in a bait. 
 
 So Joe dismissed his father's advice from his mind, 
 and when he reached his room he thanked Ormsby 
 for having saved the tea-party from a speech. 
 
 ' Fm afraid your father was fearfully sick with me 
 — ^he simply glared,' Ormsby said. 
 
 ' Hell soon get over it. You see, he likes rubbing 
 things in and making speeches. He can't help it.' 
 
 ' It's a funny way of enjoying yourself ; but I like 
 Pads,' Ormsby rephed. 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 DRIFT 
 
 On the last night of the term Max gave a House-sup- 
 per, and in a long speech recounted the successes of 
 the term. Challenge Cups had crowded into the 
 house during the last few weeks — the Sports Cup, 
 several Fives Cups, the ' Gym ' Cup, the Rackets 
 Cup — and the only cause for regret was that an idiotic 
 Playground Committee had prevented the Second 
 Fifteen Football Cup from being added to this list 
 of spoils. 
 
 ' There is one satisfaction,' Max said, * to be gained 
 from that childish decision, and it is that no other 
 house has got the cup.' (Applause and cries of 
 ' Where is it ? ') ' Bonham's won it last year ; I 
 suppose they still have it ; but I do not think we need 
 grudge them the honour of storing it,' he added ; 
 and then passed on to other matters. 
 
 On an occasion of this kind Max was in his element. 
 Without any particular gifts of eloquence or humour, 
 he knew precisely how to stir his audience, and to win 
 both applause and laughter. The term was over and 
 the results of it could be seen by anyone who cared to 
 look at the trophies on the tables, and so for the time 
 being Max ceased to be domineering, and spoke to 
 his boys as if he was the father of one large family, 
 
 315 
 
3i6 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 whose sole object was to live clean lives, keep thor- 
 oughly fit, and reap rewards. 
 
 There was an old joke in the house that Mrs. Max 
 wrote Max's speeches, and provided all the humour 
 there was to be found in them. But Joe, who had 
 heard this ancient jest, searched in vain for any traces 
 of Mrs. Max in this speech ; although he could not 
 help thinking that she must have had a hand in it, 
 because she looked so peculiarly uninterested while it 
 was being delivered. After aU, it was but a cata- 
 logue of athletic victories, interspersed with personal 
 remarks about the boys who had gained them ; but 
 at the end of the speech Max said very casually, and 
 as if the fact was likely to be of interest to nobody, 
 ' I am glad to say that Parberry has been elected to a 
 scholarship at Emmanuel College, Cambridge.' And 
 then Joe happened to catch Mrs. Max's eye, and her 
 smile suddenly sent him into fits of laughter. 
 
 * What's up now ? ' Ormsby asked. ' Have you 
 drunk too much claret-cup ? ' 
 
 ' Poor old Parberry,' Joe mumbled. 
 ' He!s a smug,' Ormsby declared. 
 
 * He's rather funny sometimes. Have you seen the 
 verses he has just written about Max ? ' 
 
 Ormsby 's face brightened. * No,' he said. ' Would 
 they do for my " Life " ? ' 
 
 ' I'm getting a bit fed up with that old thing. It 
 never gets any forrader,' Joe replied. 
 
 ' You don't,' Ormsby said, ' understand how jolly 
 difficult it is to write a man's life. It isn't like poetry 
 and that kind of tosh. First of all you have to study 
 your man for years and years, and then you have got 
 to get hold of a lot of his letters and sprawl them about 
 all over the book. Any sort of old letter is better 
 than nothing, but I have only got one of Max's, and 
 that I bagged from my father/ 
 
DRIFT 317 
 
 ' What was in it ? ' Joe asked. 
 
 * Well, it doesn't help much/ Ormsby admitted. 
 ' It's — " Dear Mr. Ormsby, I am returning from 
 Switzerland to-morrow, and will answer your letter in 
 the course of a few days." The only thing about it 
 is that it shows that Max has been in Switzerland. 
 I shall put it in the chapter called " Foreign Travel." ' 
 
 Succinctly Joe told him that he was an idiot, and was 
 content to leave it at that ; but Ormsby was soon 
 asking more questions about Parberry's verses. 
 
 ' Of course I will pay for them,' he said, * if that's 
 what he wants. How do you pav for poetrv — by the 
 word?' 
 
 ' I've never bought any ; but by the dollop, I should 
 think.' 
 
 * But what sort of stuff is it ? I'm not on, if old 
 Amaryllis and those sort of people are knocking about 
 in it. They don't suit my style.' 
 
 * It's about Max,' Joe said, as if that finally disposed 
 of Amaryllis. 
 
 * If you can remember any of it, you might just 
 spout it out. From the look of it Rose is going to sing, 
 and I'd rather listen to a pig stuck under a gate. One 
 blessing is, that he's got his back turned to us ; to 
 see Rose on the way to his top note gives me creeps 
 down the spine. I'd rather watch a man standing on 
 one foot at the top of an eighty-foot ladder.' 
 
 At this moment. Rose, accompanied by Mrs. Max, 
 broke forth into song, and Ormsby dropped his voice 
 to a whisper. 
 
 ' I'm rather keen on this poetry idea. Can't you 
 remember a bit of it ? ' he asked. 
 
 Joe's expression was such as is often to be seen on 
 the faces of musical people, when they are listening 
 to a performer who has nothing but audacity to 
 recommend him ; it was a mixture of strained attention 
 
3x8 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 and resignation. He waited, however, until Rose 
 made a determined assault upon his top note and failed 
 signally to reach it, and then he said : 
 
 ' I think I can remember the first verse. It's some- 
 thing like this : 
 
 * *' To Cambridge (on the Cam) I went, 
 To win a ' schol ' was my intent ; 
 But Max he did not care a cent 
 For me who had remained unbent, 
 
 And never to him pandered. 
 So tho' through days and nights I'd toiled, 
 Until my eyes were nearly boiled, 
 I only gave him fits of blues, 
 Because my muscles, sinews, thews. 
 
 Have failed to reach his standard." 
 
 There's a lot more of it,' he added. 
 
 Rose's song ended abruptly, and, partly from sym- 
 pathy with his failure, and partly from thankfulness 
 for his brevity, he was warmly applauded. 
 
 * All the first four lines rhyme, and the fifth rhymes 
 with the tenth, and that's right enough ; but the other 
 four don't all rhyme, and that seems to me to be 
 sort of cock-eye,' Ormsby said critically. 
 
 * I don't think it makes much difference as long as 
 the thing sounds right,' Joe replied. 
 
 ' It only makes this difference : I ought to get it 
 cheaper. It's like buying a horse with a scar on his 
 knee. My father won't look at a horse that hasn't 
 fallen down a time or two ; for one thing he gets him 
 cheaper, and for another he has the fun of wondering 
 when he is going to fall down again.' 
 
 ' It sounds to me a bit mad,' Joe observed. 
 
 * My father's rather sane for an astronomer. You 
 had better come and see for yourself,' Ormsby re- 
 turned. 
 
 ' These holidays are so short,' Joe said, and felt 
 
DRIFT 319 
 
 very uncomfortable. By all the rules of the game 
 he knew that if he could not go to Ormsby, he ought 
 to ask Ormsby to come to him. But his father was 
 still furious, and seemed to have bracketed Ormsby 
 with Cousin William on the black list. It was simply 
 humbug to ask a fellow to come and stay with you 
 when you knew perfectly well that he would not be 
 allowed to come. So Joe turned to the boy who was 
 sitting on his other side, and began assiduously to 
 talk to him. 
 
 But Joe, in spite of the trouble between his father 
 and Ormsby, enjoyed the last weeks of that term whole- 
 heartedly. Some fellows still laughed at the way 
 Max ' ran ' him, but the nip had gone out of their 
 laughter. 
 
 He had, in fact, become popular not because he was 
 a Rumbold, but because he was himself. Inclined 
 naturally to be a friend of all the world, if only the world 
 would give him a chance, his good nature and good 
 temper had made their mark, and he returned to Maiden 
 Croft feeling not only submissive to the Maxian sys- 
 tem, but even satisfied with it. If he knew that he 
 had given up trying for something that figured largely 
 in his programme when he had first gone to Granby, 
 he had ready excuses for himself. Who on earth, 
 for instance, could be expected to work for such a 
 man as Mr. tJssher, and what was the use of struggling 
 against Max, who was most ' awfully decent ' when 
 you didn't rub him up the wrong way ? And then 
 Mrs. Max had congratulated him like anything on 
 being second in the Junior Stourford Run, and her 
 praise was a thing worth having. Besides, there 
 was heaps of time to work presently if he wanted to, 
 and to be seventh in a class when you hadn't ' tried 
 a yard ' was not so bad. 
 
 If, however, Joe had been seventeenth in his class 
 
330 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 instead of seventh, Mr. Rumbold would not have been 
 disturbed, for in his opinion the important event of 
 the term was the Junior Stourford Run. Joe's cup 
 was solemnly placed in the Pot-Room, a special table 
 was allotted to him in that semi-sacred apartment, 
 and his Egg-and-Spoon trophy was ignominiously 
 banished to his bedroom. But while he watched 
 his father conducting these ceremonies, the humorous 
 side of them struck him so irresistibly that he began 
 to gurgle with laughter. To have laughed at such 
 proceedings as these would previously, Joe knew, 
 have aroused paternal indignation ; but now Mr. 
 Rumbold ascribed this display of hilarity to the 
 gurgler's delight at having indisputably deserved a 
 table in the Pot-Room. 
 
 * Your cup,' he said, ' looks rather small on that 
 large table, but before long there will be plenty more 
 to keep it company.' 
 
 * I must congratulate you again, Joe,' Mrs. Rum- 
 bold said, and turned away so that she might con- 
 ceal the tears that were forcing their way into her 
 eyes. Frequently during the last two or three weeks 
 she had been compelled to listen to her husband's 
 gusts of prophecy about Joe's future. Granby and 
 Max between them, she was led to understand, had 
 quickly knocked most of the nonsense out of Joe. 
 True that as yet he did not show any nice discrimina- 
 tion in his choice of friends, but that little defect could, 
 Mr. Rumbold declared, be immediately remedied. 
 In a sense he had made even a better start than any 
 of the Rumbolds, for his brothers seemed somehow 
 or other to have been born without ' long winds.' 
 
 * I can't make out why Flip and Pads and Bingo 
 couldn't win long-distance races if Joe can,' Mr. 
 Rumbold had said. 
 
 * Isn't it, perhaps, more surprising that Joe can 
 
DRIFT 32t 
 
 when they couldn't?' Mrs. Rumbold had replied ; 
 but her husband never paid any attention to questions 
 of this kind. It was foolish, he considered, to be 
 surprised at anything his sons could do. But it 
 was necessary to warn her not to make too much of 
 this success, for more than once she had been ' weak ' 
 with Joe. 
 
 ' You mustn't,' he told her, ' let him think that he 
 has done enough by practically running a dead-heat 
 against boys a year older than himself. It's a good 
 start, but only a good start ; I mean that this wind 
 of his must not be accepted as an excuse for slackness 
 in other directions. He has got to buckle to and get 
 into the Eleven and Fifteen, as all his brothers have 
 done.' 
 
 And with this warning in her ears Mrs. Rumbold 
 had constantly tried to persuade herself that she was 
 ready for Joe to be put into the family mould ; but, 
 in spite of all her efforts, she was conscious of feeling 
 very rebellious and disloyal. Quite honestly she was 
 glad that Joe had won the approval of Maiden Croft, 
 for that would make him feel less like an outsider in his 
 own home. Moreover, it was absurd to regret what 
 he had done, when she herself had beseeched him to 
 bow before Rumbold traditions and to please his 
 father. 
 
 But all the same, she hoped almost incessantly that 
 he would never feel inclined to set up this idol of 
 athletics and worship it to the exclusion of everything 
 else. Flip, Jumpy, and Bingo were never really 
 happy unless they were playing games or talking to 
 people who played them ; even the girls with whom 
 they were friendly seemed to be superlatively good at 
 hockey, golf, or lawn-tennis. Pads had intermit- 
 tently allowed his interests to roam beyond the Rum- 
 bold boundaries ; but they waned unless they were 
 
 II 
 
322 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 constantly stimulated, and although he occasionally 
 took her to some play that she wanted to see, there 
 was no doubting that he had done this merely to 
 please her, and that he would have been much happier 
 at a musical comedy. So Mrs. Rumbold had trained 
 herself to be thankful for her four older sons as they 
 were, and, in a sense, to be proud of them ; but she 
 had clung tenaciously to the hope that Joe's interests 
 would not be confined to so limited an area, and until 
 these holidays he had given her every reason to think 
 that this hope would be realized even, perhaps, to 
 a fuller extent than was altogether to be desired. 
 Music, pictures, books, that were neither * sporting ' 
 nor what Pads called — although he read them — 
 ' footling tosh,' had not only given him genuine pleas- 
 ure, but had been subjects of long conversations 
 between his mother and himself. Hours had been 
 spent in her sitting-room that had been as infinitely 
 precious to her as they had been profitable and pleas- 
 ant to him. Hours snatched from the normal exist- 
 ence of Maiden Croft, and to Joe all the more en- 
 joyable because he knew that they were snatched. 
 
 But now when Joe did come to her room, he was 
 restless and uneasy. Something, she guessed, was 
 bothering him ; but the reason of this restlessness 
 puzzled her. Was it, she asked herself, caused by his 
 anxiety to be always out of doors and playing games, 
 or was he worried by a consciousness that he was 
 turning his back on things that she considered infi- 
 nitely valuable ? In response to the opportunities 
 she gave him to confide in her, he invariably said that 
 there was nothing the matter, and, except when he 
 was alone with her, nothing seemed to be ; for when 
 he was with his brothers, his spirits were boisterously 
 high. Apparently he was not only content to go into 
 the mould, but had determined to go in joyfully. 
 
DRIFT 323 
 
 During these holidays Mrs. Rumbold could not 
 save herself from hating Max and all his works. She 
 thought of him as a horrible machine which crushed 
 all ideas and originality out of boys, and which was 
 constructed with the sole purpose of developing their 
 bodies and starving their minds. No doubt she was 
 unfair to hold him entirely responsible, and she knew 
 that she was ; but a scapegoat had got to be found, 
 and secretly she endeavoured to regard him as the 
 sole cause of the change in Joe. 
 
 If, however, Joe had been told that he was less of 
 a companion to her than he had been, he would have 
 been intensely hurt and surprised. In some ways 
 he felt that things were not quite the same ; he was, 
 for instance, treated as if he really belonged to the 
 place, and the experience was so novel and pleasant 
 that he thoroughly enjoyed it. But it never occurred 
 to him that his mother could regret a change that she 
 herself had asked him to effect — that, in fact, her real 
 wish had been that he should become just enough of 
 a Rumbold to obtain peace, and not enough to make 
 any real difference in him. 
 
 Half-measures never had appealed to Joe. If he 
 was to be Maxian and Rumboldish, he felt that he 
 would have to go what he called the * whole-hog ' ; 
 the funny thing to him was that now that he had 
 started on the way, he found it far more attractive 
 than he had ever thought that it could be. Cousin 
 William might sneer a little, indeed, he had already 
 written rather a sarcastic note of congratulation about 
 the Stourford Run; but everyone else, Joe thought, 
 would be ' jolly glad/ 
 
 The only thing that he imagined might hurt his 
 mother's feelings was his report, and that not because 
 of his place in class (for he had already told her that 
 he was seventh), but from the possibility of Mr. 
 
324 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 Ussher making very disagreeable remarks. And 
 when Mr. Rumbold did receive Joe's report, the 
 ordinary routine of breakfast at Maiden Croft was 
 considerably upset, and Mrs. Rumbold entered the 
 room while the storm was at its height. 
 
 But to Joe's amazement his father's anger was not 
 directed against him, but against Mr. Ussher and Dr. 
 Manning. ' Has ability which he does not use. Has 
 been flagrantly dishonest,' Mr. Ussher had written ; 
 and Dr. Manning had asterisked the latter sentence 
 and said : * An especially bad case ; he must learn to 
 be truthful and to submit to discipline.' As a counter- 
 blast to these condemnations Max had praised Joe 
 to the skies, and all the other masters had said that his 
 work was either ' Good ' or * V. Good,' and had re- 
 frained from making any remarks about his conduct. 
 In answer to Mr. Rumbold's questions Joe explained 
 precisely what he had done, though he did not say 
 anything about Ormsby's share in the disaster. 
 Stated baldly, it seemed to Joe to sound a fairly 
 ' rotten ' thing to do — much more ' rotten ' than it 
 had seemed at Granby. But he had scarcely finished 
 speaking when Pads said : ' I should think I did the 
 same thing about five times. Once I tried it on Max, 
 and got jolly well thrashed.' 
 
 * Everybody does it. I did it,' Bingo announced. 
 
 * We used to do it in my time,' Mr. Rumbold said. 
 
 * As long as there are worms who will do that sort 
 of thing for money, and fellows are ready to run the 
 risk, masters will always have to be on the look-out. 
 But everyone knows that it goes on at Granby. It 
 used to be considered rather sporting,' Flip declared. 
 
 Whereupon Mr. Rumbold made noises in his throat, 
 and proceeded violently to denounce Mr. Ussher. 
 In such a denunciation it was impossible to make a 
 strong effect, unless the victim of Mr. Ussher's wrath 
 
DRIFT 325 
 
 was held to be naturally incapable of the charge 
 brought against him. So Joe's truthfulness and 
 straightforwardness were vigorously insisted upon, 
 and then having, in his opinion, proved that Joe 
 possessed these qualities in superabundance, Mr. 
 Rumbold proceeded to express unlimited contempt 
 for those who dared to disagree with him. 
 
 'The fact of the matter is,' he concluded, ' that 
 Ussher is only fit to lead a poodle about on the end of 
 a string, and that Dr. Manning wants waking up. 
 If the Head of Granby is going to believe what men 
 like Ussher tell him he is neglecting his duties, and the 
 sooner someone lets him know it the better it will be 
 for himself and the school.' 
 
 ' But,' Mrs. Rumbold said quietly, ' from what I 
 understand. Dr. Manning could not help believing 
 what Mr. Ussher said. Joe himself does not deny it.' 
 
 For a moment Mr. Rumbold merely spluttered, 
 a sort of aftermath of the real storm. And then he 
 turned upon his critic and said : ' You don't under- 
 stand these things, my dear. Are you willing to admit 
 that a son of yours can be " flagrantly dishonest " ? ' 
 
 ' Certainly not,' Mrs. Rumbold answered very gently, 
 ' for I don't really know the circumstances of the case. 
 What I meant is, that it is unfair to blame Dr. Man- 
 ning for believing what, as far as I can see, he had no 
 opportunity to disbelieve.' 
 
 Hurt as she was by this sudden and unexpected 
 attack upon Joe's character, her first concern was to 
 prevent her husband from writing indiscreetly to Dr. 
 Manning. Mr. Rumbold thoroughly enjoyed a con- 
 troversial correspondence, and one of the occupations 
 of her life was to prevent him from over-indulgence 
 in this respect. As soon as he had finished his break- 
 fast, she knew that he would clear his desk for action, 
 and write what he called a ' scorcher ' to Dr. Manning ; 
 
326 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 and her experience of masters had convinced her that 
 such letters were anything but beneficial to the boy 
 on whose behalf they were written. 
 
 At all costs she intended to prevent him from writ- 
 ing to Dr. Manning until he was fitter to deal common- 
 sensibly with this * insult to the family/ and so, in 
 spite of his declaration that he wished to be left alone, 
 she accompanied him to his study. There she was 
 compelled to listen to several explosions of indignation, 
 and she also discovered the exact reason of this attack 
 upon Joe. But although she managed to make him 
 promise that she should see the letter before he sent 
 it, he was far too angry to agree to any further re- 
 strictions. 
 
 ' I won't have people making such charges against 
 my sons. Joe couldn't tell a lie if he wanted to,' 
 he said ; and she smiled rather wearily and left him. 
 
 For as she went back to her room she could not 
 disguise from herself that, according to her code of 
 honour, Joe had told a lie, whether he wanted to or 
 not. Moreover, he had been so clearly ashamed of 
 it that he had neither mentioned the affair in his 
 letters from Granby nor since he had returned home. 
 To her there was a sting in the fact that he could do 
 such a thing, but there was a sharper sting in the 
 thought that he could do it, and then hope that she 
 would not be told. Nevertheless, she could not help 
 smiling when she pictured to herself how very dif- 
 ferently this bombshell would have been received if 
 there had been no Stourford Run. Joe, the outcast, 
 would have taken Mr. Ussher's place in that fiery 
 speech of denunciation, and have been told that he was 
 unfit to bear the family name ; but now, in the very 
 face of what seemed to her a deliberate piece of deceit, 
 his qualities of truthfulness and honesty were for the 
 first time warmly insisted upon. 
 
DRIFT 327 
 
 But before she could think over the news of the 
 morning, and try to gauge its actual importance, 
 Joe had joined her. 
 
 * You're pretty sick with me, mother,' he said, 
 ' and I don't wonder/ 
 
 ' How did it happen ? ' she asked. 
 And as soon as he had told her, he proceeded to 
 make excuses for himself. 
 
 * It sounds pretty rotten here, but no one thinks 
 much about that sort of thing at school. I never 
 said the lines were mine.' And then he glanced at 
 her and began to blush. ' You think,' he added 
 quickly, ' that it's just as much a lie whether I said 
 anything or not, and so it is ; but you don't know Mr. 
 Ussher. He sort of makes me feel as if I would do 
 anything to score off him.' 
 
 ' Don't you think it would have happened with any 
 other master ? ' she asked. 
 
 ' I don't think so, but I'm not sure,' he answered ; 
 and for the first time he looked straight at her. ' I 
 am most awfully sorry about it, because you hate it 
 so ; but I shouldn't be sorry if you had never heard 
 about it, for inside me I don't feel like that.' 
 
 At this she smiled, and he wondered why until she 
 spoke. 
 
 * My dear boy,' she said very gently, ' I do hate you 
 to do things that give anyone an opportunity to bring 
 such charges — whether they are just or unjust — 
 against you, but I am afraid that I hate even more 
 that you should do them and then try to conceal 
 them from me. My only chance to be of any use to 
 you as you grow up is for you to meet me half-way. 
 Perhaps that would be easier for you, if you know that 
 I would rather be hurt by what you do than ignorant 
 of it. I don't want to be spared, for if you once be- 
 gin to hide things from me, we are bound to drift 
 
328 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 away from one another. I have never tried to drag 
 confidences out of anyone, but I do think that I can 
 help a Uttle if you will let me/ 
 
 * I'd like to, mother — Fd like to most awfully — 
 but it's precious difficult,' Joe said. 
 
 'Why?' 
 
 ' Well, fellows at Granby aren't exactly angels. 
 All sorts of little things happen that I wouldn't ' 
 
 * I am not talking about angels or little things,' 
 Mrs. Rumbold interrupted. * I don't expect you to 
 be an angel, and I don't want to hear about '' little 
 things." I have not had five sons at Granby without 
 learning a good deal, Joe.' 
 
 ' But most of the things that happen are little 
 things,' he said. 
 
 * Of course, but there are exceptions.' 
 
 * It's so difficult to know what they are.' 
 
 She was not surprised that he made so many ob- 
 jections, for she recognized truly that he was trying 
 to see his way before he made any promises. To 
 argue the matter out and come to an understanding 
 was far more to her liking, than for him to throw his 
 arms round her neck and scatter careless protestations 
 of love and penitence over her. She was not without 
 experience of quick repentuices, and the value she 
 placed upon them was slight. 
 
 ' This, for instance,' she said. * I can't, I know, 
 understand altogether how you look upon such things 
 at Granby, but I can't help seeing that to buy another 
 boy's lines and pretend they are your own is not a 
 straight thing to do.' 
 
 * If you'd heard Ormsby and me talking about it, 
 I don't think vou would be so down on me,' Joe said. 
 
 ' Ormsby ? "' 
 
 ' Oh, he's all right. Father doesn't like him, but 
 he's a most awfully good sort.' 
 
DRIFT 329 
 
 . Mrs. Rumbold refrained from commenting upon 
 this, for although Joe's letters had told her much more 
 of Ormsby than of himself, they had not convinced 
 her that this friendship was very desirable. As far 
 as she could judge, Ormsby was bent on extracting 
 the utmost fun out of everybody and everything — 
 in fact, she suspected that he was merely a very in- 
 genious buffoon, whose manners were (so Mr. Rumbold 
 had assured her) sometimes conspicuously lacking. 
 But she was wise enough to keep these opinions to 
 herself, since she admitted that she had no very 
 sound reasons for holding them. For Mr. Rumbold 
 was as indiscriminatingly abusive of people whom he 
 disliked, as Joe was uncritically enthusiastic about 
 those whom he called ' awfully good sorts.' 
 
 Ormsby, however, was not important at present, 
 whatever he might become later on. What she wanted 
 now was, as she had said, for Joe to meet her half-way, 
 and as. he fidgeted about her room, picking up things 
 here and there and looking at them without interest, 
 she wondered whether she was not making too much of 
 what was, after all, the first really serious occasion 
 he had given her to blame him. Should she just say 
 that they would forget it, and begin afresh with a 
 clean slate ? That was the easiest way, but she was 
 not at all sure that Joe would approve of it. For un- 
 less he had altered marvellously in the last few weeks, 
 his desire would be to get to the bottom of this trouble ; 
 to face it, and not to evade it. 
 
 ' Do you want me to go on trying to please father 
 and Max ? ' he asked at last, and his voice uncon- 
 sciously contained a note of challenge which she did not 
 miss. 
 
 ' Of course you must,' she replied steadily. ' But 
 need that occupy all your time ? ' 
 
 * I suppose it oughtn't to,' he said doubtfully. 
 
330 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 ' and I dare say with a lot of fellows it wouldn^t. 
 But rm sort of rummily made ; I believe Fm an either 
 one thing or the other kind of fellow. Supposing 
 it has got to be one thing or the other ? ' 
 
 And suddenly she found herself confronted by a 
 question which she had never even considered. In 
 advising him to submit to the demands of Max and 
 Maiden Croft she had not imagined that he would 
 turn his back upon the things that she held dear — 
 those things that were to have been his solaces and 
 joys, solaces which she was to have administered, 
 and joys which they were to have shared. For one 
 moment she longed to tell him to choose for himself, 
 to rebel if he wanted to rebel, and to count upon her 
 as his ally ; and then she saw that she had no right 
 to ask him to undertake such a fight as this. If he 
 decided to go his own way he must come to that de- 
 cision without any invitation from her, and with- 
 out any assurances of assistance. For that fight 
 would entail years of misery for him, and she could 
 not on the spur of the moment withdraw all the ad- 
 vice she had given and invite him to defy his father 
 and Max. 
 
 * Even if that happens,' she answered, ' I think that 
 it is your duty to carry out your father's wishes. 
 Will you mind so very much ? ' 
 
 ' That's the funny part of it,' he said at once, * I 
 don't believe I do mind. It makes everything such 
 a jolly lot comfortabler.' And then he saw the look 
 of dismay upon her face, and an indistinct idea of 
 what his confession must mean to her flashed across 
 his mind. 
 
 At once he jumped to her side, but no protestations 
 of love or sorrow could really help her. 
 
 When at last she was alone she walked slowly to 
 the window and looked out unseeingly. Far beyond 
 
DRIFT V 331 
 
 his comprehension he had wounded her ; he had 
 given up all she had striven to teach him with an 
 incredible carelessness and gaiety, and he did not 
 seem in the least to realize what he was abandoning. 
 
 But the one thing that kept on thundering in her 
 mind was that he could not be blamed. She had 
 asked him, so she persuaded herself, to try for some- 
 thing that was contrary to his nature. He had to be 
 ' one thing or the other.' 
 
 But the future she did not dare to dwell upon, for 
 when she thought of it she saw herself condemned 
 to years of utter loneliness — years in which he would 
 be growing up and learning to spurn more and more 
 the lessons she had taught him ; years in which he 
 would be developing into a great athlete, and she 
 would be pretending to be pleased. 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 THE PROPHET 
 
 During the remainder of the hoUdays Joe was in 
 and out of his mother's sitting-room at all hours of 
 the day. It appeared as if he could not have enough 
 of her company, and she recognized that these constant 
 visits were his way of trying to make amends for the 
 disappointment he had caused. 
 
 ' And I'll work like anything when I go back. 
 Another term with old Ussher would simply drive me 
 crazy/ he assured her. 
 
 Perhaps this reason for working did not appear to 
 her the best possible one, although she was too grate- 
 ful for small mercies to tell him so. But after he had 
 gone back to Granby she could not help comparing 
 his behaviour with something that had happened 
 years and years before. Then a young brother of 
 hers had passed into the Indian Civil Service, and 
 during the days before he had left England his eager- 
 ness for her companionship had been very similar to 
 Joe's. Everything was to be the same when he came 
 back for his first leave ; plans had even been made 
 for spending it together. But Flip was nearly two 
 years old when she saw her brother again, and ad- 
 ditionally Flip's uncle disapproved strongly of Flip's 
 father. 
 
 ' Why the dickens,' he said ' you chose Rumbold 
 
 332 
 
THE PROPHET 333 
 
 out of all the fellows who wanted to marry you absol- 
 utely beats me. He's such a prig that I want to rag 
 the life out of him whenever he opens his mouth.' 
 
 She was prepared for criticisms of her husband from 
 this frankest of brothers, but to hear him called a 
 prig was mor^ than she could tolerate. The word 
 remained in her memory and rankled, for after she 
 had heard it she found that she was continually trying 
 to persuade herself that her husband was not a prig. 
 
 She had good days and bad days ; days when he 
 did things that no prig would do ; days on which his 
 conduct required more excuses than she could find. 
 And so the examination went secretly on until she 
 recognized the uselessness of it, and resolved to give 
 up criticizing him. To be Mrs. Rumbold, the mother 
 of his children, a loyal and submissive wife, was evi- 
 dently all that he wished her to be, and she determined 
 to accept the position. That she had a mind of her 
 own never seemed to occur to him. * Women— that 
 is, nice women,' he often said — 'have taste and tact ; 
 men have brains and balance.' That summed up his 
 creed about humanity in a sentence, and those who 
 disputed it were instantly branded as rogues and 
 infidels. 
 
 In thinking over the failures and successes of her 
 family, Mrs. Rumbold could find much to smile over 
 quietly, but the trouble was that she had no one to 
 smile with. Loyalty prevented her from going out- 
 side Maiden Croft to find anyone who could share the 
 humours of her life, and inside it there was no one 
 except Joe who ever seemed to see the comical side 
 of his relations, and that tendency of his could not 
 be encouraged by her. And now he had gone off with 
 protestations that everything would be the same in 
 the years to come, but she was no longer young or 
 hopeful enough to dream dreams. 
 
334 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 Looking into the future, she imagined that he 
 would gradually be weaned away from everything that 
 was not in some way connected with athletic success, 
 and the words of Stevenson, * Our business in this 
 world is not to succeed, but to continue to fail in good 
 spirits,' kept on recurring in her mind. To fail and 
 to remain in good spirits was, she thought, more than 
 any mortal boy could be expected to do at Maiden 
 Croft. Heaven knew that she did not want Joe to 
 fail ; where she differed from her family was in the 
 things in which she wanted him to succeed. 
 
 He would try, she was confident, always to work 
 hard enough to muddle through without fears of 
 superannuation : but all his zest for learning would 
 be gone, and presently she saw him submitting to the 
 stereotyped schedule of conversation at Maiden Croft. 
 
 In her opinion this schedule consisted of discussions 
 about cricket, the Boat-Race, Rugby football, rackets, 
 and athletic sports, the subjects varying in accordance 
 with the seasons of the year. Granby and golf, 
 however, were never out of season, and the conver- 
 sations about golf she found the most difficult of all 
 to listen to without showing signs of weariness. 
 
 Frankly, she gave up trying to understand the 
 phraseology of golf, but she was never able to forget 
 the moment when Flip with a scowling countenance 
 had informed his father that a man called Stubbs lay 
 dead at the seventeenth hole at Woking. On that 
 occasion her sympathies had been so wholly with Mr. 
 Stubbs that she had abandoned her usual habit of 
 not asking questions about things that she did not 
 fully understand. The only result, however, of her 
 inquiries about this fatal accident was that Flip 
 guffawed with laughter, and said : * Mother, you are 
 simply a knock-out ! ' 
 
 As hors d'ceuvres to this conversational banquet there 
 
THE PROPHET 335 
 
 were occasional references to the clergyman who was 
 more ritualistic than Mr. Rumbold thought fit ; to 
 the German Emperor ; to ' scenes ' in the House of 
 Commons ; to musical comedies and horse-racing. 
 But the main theme was always connected with ath- 
 letics. William Rumbold had once declared that to 
 sit through three meals at Maiden Croft was like 
 going to three concerts at which the same song was 
 sung over and over again by different performers. 
 
 In its limited way Mrs. Rumbold did not doubt that 
 the atmosphere of her home was very healthy. Not 
 for one moment had any of her sons given her cause 
 to regret their morals, and for this she was more than 
 thankful. Athletics, at any rate, had done a great 
 deal for their bodies, even if they had been a deaden- 
 ing influence over their minds. But her efforts to 
 make them take a wider outlook, to travel, to think 
 a little, had failed completely. Flip had once been 
 for a week-end to Dieppe, and had suffered severely 
 on the way back ; Pads had spent a miserable ten 
 days in Holland ; ' England,' Jumpy said, * was good 
 enough for him ' ; Bingo had ventured as far as the 
 Isle of Man. Her great hope and support had been 
 that she would be able to keep a part of Joe to herself, 
 and to prevent him from falling into this slough of 
 stagnation and self-content. But now she foresaw 
 that Maiden Croft would again be inhabited by Holi- 
 day Tutors — muscular men recommended by Max. 
 She knew the type by heart, for in succession Holiday 
 Tutors had ministered to the mental needs of Flip, 
 Jumpy, Pads, and Bingo. In nearly every case these 
 men had been carefully chosen, and had fitted them- 
 selves most comfortably into the life of the Rum- 
 bolds — they had, in fact, had a glorious time — but 
 of only one of them (and he was an exception to the 
 general rule) had Mrs. Rimibold any real remembrance. 
 
336 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 Mr. Hilton's duties had been to spend two hours 
 a day improving Jumpy's mathematics, and to make 
 himself amiable, and in both respects he had been a 
 total failure. Jumpy had flatly refused to ' stuff in 
 the house ' for more than an hour a day, and when he 
 had been captured and the door closed upon him, he 
 professed himself unable to keep awake. For two or 
 three days Mr. Hilton struggled against a strong 
 desire to beat his refractory pupil into wakefulness, 
 and when he appealed to Mr. Rumbold for instructions 
 he was told not to worry. This advice, however, 
 did not suit Mr. Hilton, so at the end of a week he 
 went to Mrs. Rumbold and told her that he was going. 
 
 * I am being paid,' he said, ' to do work that I am 
 not doing and never shall do, and I can't stand it ; 
 so I have decided to go.' And he went that very day, 
 to Jumpy 's delight, but to the consternation of Mr. 
 Rumbold and Flip, who declared that they had never 
 seen such a * bounder ' in their lives. The idea of a 
 tutor being admitted to Maiden Croft, and then leav- 
 ing without being told to go was altogether too much 
 for Mr. Rumbold's temper, even after he had tried 
 to assuage it by writing a ' scorcher ' to Max for send- 
 ing such a man. Personally, Mrs. Rumbold had been 
 glad when the invasion of Holiday Tutors had ceased, 
 for although she had no objection to them as guests, 
 she considered with reason that they were extraor- 
 dinarily unsuccessful as tutors. 
 
 For the present, at any rate, she thought that Joe 
 would be able to do without a tutor, but Max did not 
 share this opinion. Almost the first words that he 
 spoke to Joe after the latter's return to Granby were : 
 * I've got the very man to look after you in the holi- 
 days. Wheatcroft's his name. He was the best 
 bowler in the Oxford Eleven last year. Your father 
 will like him.' 
 
THE PROPHET 337 
 
 At this Joe opened his mouth very wide, but did 
 not speak. He was far from wanting to be what 
 Maiden Croft called * bear-led ' during his summer 
 holidays, and he did not mean to be if he could help 
 it. Even if the man was not anxious to teach him 
 anything, he would always be hanging around urg- 
 ing him to do things, and the truth of the matter was 
 that he had already suffered a good deal from the 
 superfluous energies of his brother's tutors. They 
 had been * decent ' enough to him — most of them 
 very ' decent ' — but all the same he was far happier 
 without them. So he just stared at Max, and wondered 
 how he could get rid of Mr. Wheatcroft. 
 
 ' I'll write to your father about him at once. He 
 will be snapped up if we aren't quick,' Max con- 
 tinued. 
 
 For a moment Joe felt a glimmer of hope, but then 
 the thought occurred to him that if Max could not get 
 this man he would soon find someone equally un- 
 necessary. The thing to do was to squash this tutor 
 idea altogether ; the difficulty was to discover a way 
 of squashing it. 
 
 Max was holding an informal reception of his boys 
 in the dining-room, but for the time being Joe was the 
 only boy who was attending it. 
 
 * I am not sure,' he said, ' that my people want me 
 to have a tutor in the holidays. They haven't said 
 anything about it.' 
 
 To this Max answered something that sounded 
 like * Pish ! ' and then added : * Wait a minute, while 
 I speak to Sherwood.' 
 
 This was a new name to Joe, and he stepped aside 
 to look at the boy who owned it. Not a single fellow 
 had left Max's at the end of the Christmas term, and 
 this was the first chance Joe had been given to look 
 closely at a boy newer than himself. His first im- 
 
338 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 pression of Sherwood was that he had a nice sort of 
 face ; his second that the chap was in an awful funk, 
 and was trying hard not to show it ; and his third 
 that Max was even abrupter than usual. 
 
 * I expected you at four o'clock/ Max said, as he 
 held out his hand. 
 
 * There was a smash-up on the line I had to come 
 by to catch the Granby train, and so I missed the 
 connection,' was the reply. 
 
 ■ ril measure you to-morrow. This is Rumbold,' 
 Max said, with a wave of his hand towards Joe. 
 
 The hall had suddenly been invaded by several 
 other boys, to whom Ormsby acted as whipper-in. 
 
 * Halloa, Joe ! ' he said at once. * Arkwright said 
 I'd find you here. Did you know he'd come back ? 
 How's Max ? ' 
 
 * He's all right ; simply full of beans. This is 
 Sherwood,' Joe replied. 
 
 * Then you are our only new chap. Three or four 
 fellows have left, and you have got to take all their 
 places. It's a big job,' Ormsby said. 
 
 ' Isn't the house full ? ' Joe asked, before Sherwood 
 could speak. 
 
 ' No ; we are three short, so Palmer says, and it's 
 the first time Max has ever had a vacancy.' 
 
 ' Then we'd better look out for squalls,' Joe said, 
 and consulted Ormsby about Mr. Wheatcroft. 
 
 ' I'll have him like a shot. Old Max is looking at 
 me, so I'd better go and speak to him. Come on ; 
 I'll get you out of this hole all right.' 
 
 In about three minutes Ormsby produced nearly 
 a dozen reasons for having a tutor in the following 
 August, while Joe stood by his side and wondered 
 at the fertility of his imagination. Max, however, 
 was not to be beguiled by such an obvious device as 
 this. 
 
THE PROPHET 339 
 
 ' You shall have a tutor as you want one so badly,' 
 he said ; * but that is no reason why Joe should not 
 have Mr. Wheatcroft. I saw you putting your heads 
 together, and expected that something extremely 
 sttipid would be the result/ 
 
 Ormsby was prevented from making things worse 
 by Armitage*s arrival, but as he and Joe went back 
 to their room, he declared vigorously that if- Max 
 found him a tutor, he should simply bolt to Green- 
 land or Montenegro. 
 
 * But you said you wanted one,' Joe told him. 
 
 * To save you from being landed with him. My 
 father will have a few fits when Max writes to him. 
 I thought I'd just get rid of this Wheatcroft fellow 
 for a bit, but now we've got a brace of them on our 
 hands. I'll get Arkwright to take my man.* 
 
 To this Joe did not reply, for he could not forget 
 that Ormsby had just been protesting to Max that 
 he simply must have a tutor, and apparently the 
 whole tale had been fiction from beginning to end. 
 
 ' We've got a jolly good term coming,' Ormsby 
 said, when they were in their room. * My father 
 says it is going to be a hot summer, and he's only 
 been wrong twice in the last twenty-seven years ; 
 and we can get out of old Ussher's class without 
 doing a stroke of work.' 
 
 Joe lay back in his chair and merely blinked at 
 Ormsby. The idea of having a thoroughly slack 
 time, of eating strawberries and cream and ices, 
 of bathing whenever he got the chance, and of playing 
 a certain amount of cricket, was for the moment 
 extremely attractive. And as he pondered over 
 it, and heard Ormsby pouring forth a delightful 
 description of Granby in the summer, he found him- 
 self regretting the promises he had made. Defin- 
 itely he had assured his mother that he would * work 
 
340 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 like anything/ and additionally he had told his 
 father that he would do all he knew to improve his 
 cricket. As regards cricket, Ormsby seemed to be 
 keen — or more than keen — enough ; but clearly 
 he was not intending to do a stroke more work 
 than was absolutely necessary, and also was taking 
 it for granted that Joe would be as total an abstainer 
 as himself. 
 
 ' You see, it's like this/ he heard Ormsby saying ; 
 ' you have got to have these things mapped out, or 
 you find yourself in the cart. First of all, there's 
 old Ussher ; I've been thinking about that man, 
 and I've found out the way to treat him. He's 
 down on the top fellows in his class because he thinks 
 they crib, and he's down on the bottom fellows 
 because he's sure they're lazy ; but there's the 
 middle left, and that's what we must shoot for. 
 If we are about twelfth or thirteenth each week, we 
 are safe to be moved up next term, when heaps of 
 fellows wiU have left. So we needn't do more than 
 about twenty minutes' work every night, and dur- 
 ing the rest of the time we can really get on with 
 Max's " Life." ' 
 
 ' I'd rather work,' Joe remarked. 
 
 ' Max's " Life " is work, don't you worry about 
 that. He's very difficult to do, and I've already 
 appointed Arkwright as my assistant secretary — 
 unpaid.' 
 
 'What did he say ? ' Joe asked. 
 
 ' Oh, he jibbed a bit ! He's rather swollen-headed 
 because he nearly died. He'll tell you how jolly 
 nearly he kicked the bucket, and if he gets a pain 
 in his thumb he is to go home. He'll want looking 
 after — ^he's back in his cradle again. Then there's 
 cricket ; you, of course, will make hundreds ' 
 
 ' Shut up ! ' Joe growled. 
 
THE PROPHET 341 
 
 * Fifties, anyway ; and you'll get into the first 
 House Eleven. I'm going to bowl for the Second 
 Eleven. I've been practising all the holidays, and 
 I bowled our doctor five times in eight balls.' 
 
 ' Was he any good ? ' Joe asked. 
 
 * As a matter of fact,' Ormsby admitted at once, 
 * he is short-sighted, nearly sixty, and hadn't played 
 for about forty years. But, you see, you can't bowl 
 your grandmother five times in eight bowls unless 
 you bowl straight.' 
 
 * I should think you will simply walk into the first 
 House Eleven,' Joe said. 
 
 ' I'm not going to try. I'd rather bowl all the time 
 for the Second than be about fifth change for the 
 First,' was the reply. 
 
 Joe felt rather uneasy about this most indecent 
 cocksureness, but he had become so accustomed to 
 Ormsby that he was no longer surprised by anything 
 that he said. 
 
 *I might as well jaw to a gate-post as to you; 
 I don't believe that you're listening,' Ormsby said 
 suddenly. 
 
 * I'm listening all right,' Joe assured him. 
 
 * Then why can't you say something ? I gassed 
 out that last bit so that you could tell me I'm a con- 
 ceited ass.' 
 
 * I thought you'd got some game on.' 
 
 * Of course I had some game on,' Ormsby said 
 impatiently, ' and it's this. You are simply marked 
 out for a blood ; we settled that last term. I'm 
 not going to be left behind, if I can help it ; we'll 
 both be bloods — thundering, full-blown bloods. It 
 might be rather fun ; anyway, if we are going to 
 do it, we had better do it quick. And the way to 
 get a bloodship in this blooming place is to jolly well 
 heave yourself at other fellows' heads.' 
 
342 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 ' I don't believe it/ Joe said emphati- 
 cally. 
 
 ' All the same, it's true/ Ormsby continued. 
 ' Everyone in Max's is trying for the same thing, and 
 the chap who pushes hardest gets it.' 
 
 * Rose pushed hard enough, and after he'd barged 
 to the front, Palmer and Armitage and that lot 
 suddenly got sick of him.' 
 
 ' That's because he's Rose, and can't do anything 
 else except hang on and jaw. If old pious ^neas 
 had tried to be a prize-fighter, do you think he would 
 have made a job of it ? I'll bet Dido wouldn't have 
 looked at him.' 
 
 * What on earth has iEneas got to do with it ? ' 
 Joe asked. 
 
 ' Why, that a fellow is a silly ass not to do what 
 he's fit for. Old ^Eneas was born ''pi," and played 
 it for all he was worth. If Ulysses was alive now, 
 you'd be a fool to play cards with him ; he'd have 
 you all ends up ; he'd be a conjurer or one of those 
 mystery fellows. I can bowl a bit, and I mean to 
 get a good start by making them think I'm an ab- 
 solute nailer, or you'll be leaving me behind, and that 
 would be the limit.' 
 
 / I'm not likely to leave anyone behind,' Joe re- 
 marked. 
 
 ' That's only your rotten modesty which I used to 
 think was humbug, but since have found out is a 
 disease. We've got to bury modesty, give it a decent 
 funeral and finish it off. For the future we are just 
 going to be a brace of Maxites, who are fairly and 
 squarely on the make.' 
 
 ' I wonder how long we shall keep it going,' Joe 
 said, and began to laugh. 
 
 ' It will be as easy as cutting your finger. Come 
 in,' Ormsby added at the top of his voice ; and 
 
THE PROPHET 343 
 
 Arkwright, looking paler and thinner than ever, 
 opened the door. 
 
 ' I'm in the same room with Sherwood, so IVe 
 brought him to see you,' he said. 
 
 ' Well, where is he ? Have you got him up your 
 sleeve ? ' Ormsby asked, and seemed to be irritated 
 by the interruption. 
 
 Arkwright looked behind him, and then poked 
 his head into the passage. ' Come on,' he said ; 
 ' there's nothing to be in a funk about ; ' and Sher- 
 wood came slowly into view. 
 
 ' Isn't it cheek for a new fellow to come and see 
 anybody ? ' he asked. 
 
 ' I'm bothered if I know. Sit down,' Joe said, 
 and pushed him into a chair. 
 
 * If you are in the same room with Arkwright,' 
 Ormsby began at once, ' you will have to look after 
 him. He's had scarlet fever, and fancies himself ; 
 whenever he begins to grouse, you must begin to 
 kick him. He's not really an infant, and ' 
 
 * You needn't believe a word of Ormsby's rot,' 
 Arkwright told Sherwood. 
 
 * It isn't rot, but sound sense. I'll bet he's told 
 you already what his temperature was.' 
 
 Sherwood, however, neither denied nor admitted 
 this. He merely looked with a rather bewildered 
 expression at Joe. 
 
 ' As you are a new fellow, I suppose we ought to 
 go through the things they do in books,' Ormsby 
 continued ; and Sherwood began to look more and 
 more uncomfortable. 
 
 ' Don't be such a hopeless idiot ! * Joe told Ormsby. 
 
 ' But how are we to know the fellow's name unless 
 we ask him ? ' 
 
 ' It's Sherwood ; I've told you that already,' 
 Joe said. 
 
344 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 * ril pass that. Then the next thing which they 
 do in all the best books is to ask him what his father 
 is. Mine's an astronomer ; Rumbold's is a . . . 
 I'm blowed if I know. What is yours, Joe ? ' 
 
 * He's a merchant.' 
 
 * And a very sound thing to be. Arkwright's is 
 an Italian warehouseman, and makes a fortune by 
 selling Roman candles. He's very busy at the be- 
 ginning of November.' 
 
 ' My father isn't an Italian anything,' Arkwright 
 protested. ' He's a doctor, and ' 
 
 * Has about a dozen letters after his name, which 
 mean precious little. Now, what's yours ? He 
 ought to be a Forester, but I'll bet he isn't/ Ormsby 
 said to Sherwood. 
 
 ' He's a stock-broker.* 
 
 * I wonder,' Ormsby continued, ' if he knows my 
 uncle, who is on the Stock Exchange. He calls him- 
 self a stock-broker, but my father says that he is a 
 brigand.' 
 
 * I can write and ask, if you like,' Sherwood an- 
 swered ; and Joe thought him a little too accom- 
 modating. 
 
 ' Anyhow, what does he broke ? ' Ormsby asked. 
 ' What on earth does it matter ? ' Joe said. 
 
 * It doesn't matter a row of pins and needles, 
 but they do ask these questions in books, and nobody 
 ever gets sat on for doing it. Having got through 
 that, what's the next thing ? ' 
 
 The next thing, as far as Joe was concerned, was 
 an attempt to talk sensibly to Sherwood, but an imp 
 of mischief had taken possession of Ormsby, and what- 
 ever Joe said he promptly contradicted. 
 
 ' It's no use for you to come and ask Rumbold 
 anything ; you had much better come to me/ he 
 declared. 
 
THE PROPHET 345 
 
 ' Thanks most awfully/ Sherwood answered. 
 
 * Why can't he ask Joe ? ' Arkwright inquired. 
 
 ' Because he's got too much to do already. Sher- 
 wood will soon find that out for himself. When 
 anyone's got the pip, or wants to borrow five bob, 
 or can't do their maths or their verses, they all come 
 in bevies to him. There's a long queue waiting out- 
 side this door every night. The only thing he doesn't 
 do for everyone else is to learn their " rep " for them, 
 and he'll find some way to do that before he's many 
 months older.' 
 
 At this outburst Joe merely laughed, for it was so 
 extravagantly absurd that there was no necessity 
 to contradict it. Neither Arkwright nor Sherwood, 
 however, seemed to be in the least amused by 
 Ormsby's exaggerations ; the one looked profoundly 
 bored, and the other exceedingly bewildered. And 
 since among his own set in the house Ormsby was 
 not accustomed to talk to an unappreciative audience, 
 he proceeded to make statements which even sur- 
 prised Joe. Partly, Joe guessed, he was * out ' 
 to move two apparently dumb fellows into exclama- 
 tions of astonishment or denial, but in addition to 
 this there was a bitterness in some of the things 
 he said for which Joe could not find a reason. Fre- 
 quently Ormsby had hurt the feelings of his com- 
 panions by the reckless remarks he made, but such 
 remarks had always been made on the spur of the 
 moment. But now he seemed to be making fun of 
 Arkwright with a real desire to hurt. It was as if 
 he was trying his hardest to disgust Sherwood with 
 both the Infant and himself, and why on earth he 
 should want to create such an impression Joe could 
 not understand. 
 
 * You jolly nearly made the Infant blub. What 
 the blazes were you playing at ? ' Joe asked, when 
 
346 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 he had got rid of Arkwright and Sherwood by the 
 direct means of telling them to go. 
 
 ' Oh, I don't know/ he answered impatiently ; 
 and having opened the window, he thrust his head 
 out of it. 
 
 * I think that fellow Sherwood looks a good sort, 
 don't you ? ' Joe asked ; but if Ormsby heard the 
 question, he did not answer it. 
 
 Something had evidently gone wrong, but what 
 it was Joe did not know, and had the sense not to 
 ask. During the last few months Ormsby's moods 
 had been more than a little capricious ; he had jumped 
 from one to another with the agility of a grasshopper ; 
 but however quick and unexpected the change had 
 been, he had never shown a trace of sulkiness. But 
 if he was not sulking now, Joe wondered what on 
 earth he was doing. It was a miserable way to begin 
 a term, but no good could come from worrying a 
 fellow who had hung himself semi-bodily out of a 
 window, and who was obviously suffering from 
 * the pip.' 
 
 For several minutes Ormsby continued to look out 
 into the night, but when he at length turned round 
 and faced Joe, his ill-temper had completely vanished. 
 
 ' I've been a perfect beast,' he said, ' and I'm 
 infernally sorry.' 
 
 He held out a hand as he spoke, and Joe shook it 
 because he did not know what else to do. But why 
 Ormsby should want a sort of reconciliation scene 
 he could not imagine. It was, Joe thought, fright- 
 fully absurd and theatrical : the whole concern 
 had somehow or other attached an importance to 
 itself which it did not deserve. 
 
 ' You think I'm a most awful ass,' Ormsby said. 
 
 ' Oh, I don't know. I don't know what's up/ 
 Joe replied. 
 
THE PROPHET 347 
 
 * Fm jealous/ 
 ' Jealous ? ' 
 
 * Yes, jealous/ 
 
 ' What the blazes of ? ' 
 
 * Guess/ 
 
 ' I can't/ 
 
 ' Well, of that fellow Sherwood/ 
 
 Joe at once began to laugh. ' YouVe got the hump 
 at coming back here/ he said. 
 
 ' Hump, be blowed,' Ormsby replied ; ' if you spent 
 your holidays without speaking to a soul who is not 
 about sixty, you would jolly soon be sick of them. 
 I wanted to come back, and then I saw this fellow 
 Sherwood butting in, and I hated him at sight, and,* 
 he added, * I hated him worse just now.' 
 
 ' But why ? What's the matter with him ? 
 What difference does he make, an3Avay ? He was 
 most awfully keen on being friends with you, if you 
 had given him the chance.' 
 
 * I've got second-sight, or whatever it's called. 
 My mother had it. I'm weird.' 
 
 Upon this Joe could not comment. If a fellow 
 liked to call himself ' weird,' it was his affair. But 
 all the same he could not believe in Ormsby's second- 
 sight. The past was very clear evidence that Ormsby 
 had no such power, or, if he had, that he was unable 
 to use it. 
 
 * I'm absolutely certain,' Ormsby continued, * that 
 Sherwood is going to try and mess up things. You 
 see if I'm not right. He's going to split us.' 
 
 ' It would take twenty Sherwoods to do that.' 
 
 ' It wiU only take one, and that chap's the one. 
 
 I suspected it directly I saw him, and I knew it when 
 
 he came in here/ 
 
 ' Let's go to bed. You'll be as right as rain in 
 
 the morning,' Joe replied. 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 AN EXACTING FRIEND 
 
 On the following day Ormsby was in such violently 
 high spirits that Joe ventured mildly to gibe at his 
 powers of second-sight. If modesty was going to 
 be buried, Joe thought that this new idea of Ormsby's 
 might reasonably be put in the same grave. It was, 
 in short, a discomforting idea, and the sooner it was 
 banged on the head the better. 
 
 'You're an ass/ he said, while he was struggling 
 to open a tin of sardines, and Ormsby was preparing 
 to make the tea, * not to become a racing tipster, 
 and tell Crake, Piper, and that betting lot, what horse 
 is going to win the Derby ; but it would be funnier 
 if you told them what is going to be last. You'd 
 knock the stuffing out of the Sportsman and all those 
 papers if you could spot the absolute last in every 
 race ; and then/ he added, for from the expression 
 of Ormsby's face he suspected that this attempt at 
 gibing had missed fire, ' we can live on sardines and 
 ices and the fat of the blooming land.' 
 
 Joe threw in the sardines and the fat of the land 
 to take the edge, as it were, off his gibe, but even the 
 prospect of unlimited luxuries seemed to have no 
 attraction for Ormsby. Without the flicker of a 
 smile he listened to Joe, and then, with the teapot 
 
 348 
 
AN EXACTING FRIEND 349 
 
 still in his hand, he said what he thought of the 
 gibe. 
 
 ' Of course/ he began, ' you think I'm cracked, 
 and that the best thing to do is to try to rot me until 
 I'm a bit less dotty. It would be a sound scheme 
 if you weren't such a heavy-handed rotter, and if 
 I was really mad. But you're no good at that game, 
 and I'm as sane as an Archbishop. You can call 
 it what you like — second-sight, or instinct, or just 
 knowing — but I'll bet you ten bob to a brass farthing 
 that I'm right about Sherwood. You can't feel 
 these things in your bones unless there is some reason. 
 It's absolute bunkum,' he continued, with a wave 
 of the teapot, which caused a shower of hot water 
 to fall on Joe's knee, ' to jaw about Derby winners. 
 I can't spot them, or I'd jolly soon be a millionaire ;' 
 but whenever I get a sort of presentiment — ^we've 
 often talked about this at home — I'm nearly always 
 right.' 
 
 * This is going to be one of the wrong times,' Joe 
 said, with determination ; but he was so anxious 
 about the teapot, which had only been purchased 
 an hour before and had cost is. iijd., that he was 
 incapable of concentrating his attention upon what 
 Ormsby was saying. He also felt a strong inclination 
 to remark that ' Forewarned was forearmed,' only 
 Ormsby had never received that kind of saw with 
 enthusiasm. Something, however, had got to be 
 done, for Ormsby seemed to be holding a committee- 
 meeting with himself, and was apparently unconscious 
 that the sardines were opened and the feast merely 
 waiting for the tea. 
 
 ' I should think you've warmed and swilled out 
 that pot enough. Supposing we stick some tea in it. 
 After all, that's what it's for,' Joe said, and succeeded 
 in disturbing Ormsby's reverie. 
 
350 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 ' You needn't think/ he said, * that Tin going to 
 play the silly goat over this. " Forewarned is fore- 
 armed/' ' 
 
 *I nearly said that — I did really/ Joe inter- 
 rupted. 
 
 ' And/ Ormsby continued, * I mean to be most 
 awfuU}^ nice to Sherwood, and see if I can't fight it 
 that way. He shan't separate us if I can help it. 
 It won't be as easy as he thinks. I'll give him a 
 
 run for his money. I'll ' At this moment he 
 
 shot out his arm, and the spout of the teapot came 
 into contact with the wall. The lid also fell off, 
 and was broken. 
 
 * You've done it now,' Joe said, 
 
 * We shall have to borrow one. You go while I 
 pick up the bits/ Ormsby replied, and promptly 
 went down on his hands and knees. 
 
 When Joe returned with a complete teapot he found 
 Ormsby sitting in an armchair and placidly eating 
 sardines. 
 
 ' I'll buy a new teapot to-morrow,' he said. ' If 
 I hadn't smashed that old thing, I believe I should 
 have been in a bigger rage than I've been in since I 
 had a fearful beano with a governess and got sent to 
 school.' 
 
 ' You did seem a bit excited,' Joe remarked, and 
 began to make the tea. 
 
 ' Anyhow, I've got it over, and feel better. I'll 
 promise that Sherwood shall never know what I 
 think about him/ 
 
 * You will soon think he's all right if he is. I'm 
 not sure about him myself. He looks decent enough, 
 but if he'd got in a rage with you for talking such 
 tosh I should have liked him better.' 
 
 * Let's drop jawing about the fellow. However 
 much you are going to like him, he's going to be most 
 
AN EXACTING FRIEND 351 
 
 frightfully keen on you/ Ormsby replied, and began 
 to talk about cricket. 
 
 But in spite of Ormsby's assurances, Joe felt very 
 bothered over this extraordinary outburst of hatred. 
 As a rule, he succeeded in dismissing things that 
 were unpleasant and troublesome from his mind, 
 but try as he would he could not forget that Ormsby 
 had been in a blazing rage with Sherwood, and that, 
 as far as he could see, there was absolutely no reason 
 for such a display of temper. What Joe did not know 
 — and it was the key of the problem — ^was that 
 Ormsby 's mother had been a most furiously jealous 
 woman, with an inordinate capacity for provoking 
 scenes. From his father Ormsby had inherited a 
 great vitality and a certain queer, humorous way of 
 looking at life ; but from his mother he had inherited 
 a temper that, when once aroused, was totally regard- 
 less of consequences. When he was three years old 
 his mother had died, and Mr. Ormsby, freed from a 
 distressing domestic atmosphere, had at once set 
 to work to root out the demon that sometimes 
 possessed his child. As time passed Mr. Ormsby 
 became more and more engrossed in his scientific 
 studies, and more and more anxious to believe that 
 his son's temper and disposition were as tranquil as 
 his own ; but at the age of eight Ormsby had com- 
 pletely upset this delusion by attacking his governess 
 and putting her to flight, and so his father had once 
 more aroused himself, and on the very next day had 
 marched off the culprit to a private school. 
 
 ' My boy has Latin blood in his veins,' he had said 
 to the master, ' and if he shows any signs of uncon- 
 trollable temper I wish to know. But I have talked 
 to him, and I hope that you will not have any trouble.' 
 
 The ' talk,' which Mr. Ormsby had stirred himself 
 up to give, had made a deeper impression than he 
 
352 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 had dared to expect. Without being aware of the 
 fact, he had affected his son enormously by one sen- 
 tence : * If you ever want to succeed, you w:ill have 
 to control your temper.' And Ormsby did want to 
 succeed. His father was a distinguished man, the 
 people who visited their home were almost invariably 
 distinguished in one way or another, and he had no 
 intention of being a failure. Mr. Ormsby might 
 have talked to him for hours about the wickedness 
 of ill-temper, and produced no result whatever ; but 
 if ill-temper was to be a handicap to success, then 
 Ormsby decided that he must get rid of it. 
 
 Later on his father had said to him : * Professor 
 Bell told me last night that his son had referred to 
 him, in a speech at some college dinner at Cambridge, 
 as " the fortunate father of a distinguished son.'' ' 
 
 /What cheek ! ' Ormsby had exclaimed. 
 
 * Yes ; but I'd like you to be able to say that some 
 day, if it is true.' 
 
 In course of time Ormsby had learned to laugh at 
 and complain about the learned people who visited 
 his father, but he had never ceased to admire them. 
 He merely made fun of everything and everybody 
 because, as a rule, he liked to live in an atmosphere 
 of laughter and gaiety and cheerfulness ; but although 
 he idled and pretended to care nothing for books 
 and for what they could give, he never really lost 
 sight of the goal he was determined to reach. 
 
 And then he had met Joe, and for some reason which 
 he could not explain had been strongly attracted by 
 him. Joe, in short, had been a revelation to him, 
 for here was a fellow with all the Granby world at his 
 feet, and who honestly seemed to have no desire to 
 grasp it. That Joe was a born athlete Ormsby be- 
 lieved then, and never really ceased to believe, and 
 one part of success at Granby was to be won by ath- 
 
AN EXACTING FRIEND 353 
 
 letics, and athletics alone. Moreover, it seemed to 
 him to be the part that was clearly the pleasanter, 
 and so he thought it all the more surprising that Joe 
 should take nearly two terms to arrive at the same 
 opinion. 
 
 Once convinced that Joe's modesty was not a pose, 
 Ormsby's affection for him increased by such leaps 
 and bounds, that at the end of their second term the 
 idea of being separated from him for nearly a month 
 had been very hard to bear. Indeed, he preferred 
 to be at Granby with Joe, than at home without him. 
 And in his own way Joe was as fond of Ormsby as 
 Ormsby was of him, but his affection was neither so 
 sentimental nor so demonstrative. Ormsby' s photo- 
 graph of Joe was conspicuously alone on the mantel- 
 piece of his bedroom, while Joe's photograph of Ormsby 
 spent most of the holidays inside a book, the leaves of 
 which it had helped to cut. Ormsby revelled in think- 
 ing out plans to ' do things ' for Joe, and frequently 
 talked about them ; while Joe did ' do things ' for 
 Ormsby, and never even mentioned them. 
 
 But although this sudden and totally unreasonable 
 hatred for Sherwood was, Joe admitted to himself, 
 ' a bit of a startler,' still, when all was said and done, 
 there was not a fellow at Granby who was ' a patch 
 on Ormsby.' No doubt, he thought, Ormsby's 
 opinion of Sherwood would soon change. It was so 
 much easier to be friends with fellows than to go about 
 glaring at them. At the beginning he had simply 
 hated Cole, and Cole had hated him ; but now, as far 
 as he could see, the feud was over, and if Cole was not 
 exactly a fellow you would borrow money to spend a 
 holiday with, he was not so bad if you took him in 
 the right way. The fellows in Max's were, in Joe's 
 opinion, a most awfully easy lot to get on with, if you 
 excepted Rose, who had retired into permanent 
 
 12 
 
354 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 sulks and was having a horribly poor time because no 
 one seemed to mind. 
 
 Everything, Joe the optimist considered, was 
 bound to come right very soon ; but until Ormsby 
 had got this bee out of his bonnet Joe thought that his 
 best plan was to take very little notice of Sherwood, 
 and so for two or three days he only nodded to him 
 once, and on several occasions pretended not to see 
 him ; but this behaviour was so totally foreign to his 
 natural disposition that he felt it would be simply 
 impossible to continue it. Whenever he met Sher- 
 wood he felt desperately inclined to burst out laugh- 
 ing, for as the days passed Ormsby's explosion began 
 to seem more and more fantastic and absurd. 
 
 For a whole week neither Joe nor Ormsby ever 
 mentioned Sherwood's name to each other, but this 
 silence only made them think continually of him. 
 
 ' Unless Joe mentions him, Tm blowed if I will,' 
 Ormsby had said to himself. 
 
 ' ril hang out as long as he does,' Joe determined ; 
 and so a sort of contest was begun — as silly a contest 
 as was ever fought. And Joe won it, and promptly 
 wished he had lost. 
 
 * A penny for your thoughts,' Ormsby said suddenly, 
 when Joe was sitting in a chair and tr3dng to keep 
 awake until the bell rang for them to go to bed. 
 
 Joe jumped visibly, but he was not to be caught 
 by such an ancient trick as this. 
 
 ' If I had tried that old wheeze you would simply 
 have slanged me,' he said. 
 
 ' I'll tell you what you were thinking about, if you 
 won't tell me.' 
 
 ' Go on.' 
 
 ' Will you bet I'm not right ? ' 
 
 ' No ; I'm not such an ass.' 
 
 ' Sherwood ? ' 
 
AN EXACTING FRIEND 355 
 
 Joe nodded. 
 
 ' And so you are really a bigger idiot than I am/ 
 Ormsby summed up. 
 
 * I'm not so sure about that ; weVe both been 
 idiots/ Joe said. 
 
 ' But youVe been the bigger. Not that it makes 
 any difference ; only, if I hadn't stopped it, we might 
 have gone on and on, until neither of us ever spoke 
 at all.' 
 
 ' I couldn't have gone on much longer.' 
 
 ' What do you mean ? ' Ormsby asked. 
 
 ' I couldn't have gone on pretending there isn't 
 such a fellow as Sherwood. The more you try to 
 wipe him out, the more you think about him. And 
 I'm always running into him. Arkwright would say 
 he's '* on my nerves." ' 
 
 ' Well, I'll ask him in here to-morrow night,' Ormsby 
 replied ; and on the following evening Sherwood, 
 looking rather suspicious, was escorted by Ormsby 
 into the room. 
 
 Why Joe and Ormsby, after ignoring him for 
 several days, should suddenly invite him into their 
 room was a puzzle to Sherwood. Most of the fellows 
 in the house had been kind to him, and had seemed 
 rather sorry that he had no other new boys as com- 
 panions ; but after his first outburst of kindness Joe 
 had conspicuously avoided him, while Arkwright 
 had besieged Ormsby with requests to come to their 
 room. 
 
 * Ormsby used to come to see me two or three 
 times a day. I can't make it out,' Arkwright wailed 
 incessantly ; but Sherwood guessed that he was the 
 cause of Ormsbv's absence. 
 
 And so he accepted this invitation because he 
 wanted to see more of Joe, even if he had at the same 
 time to listen to Ormsby's efforts to be funny. In 
 
356 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 two minutes, however, his suspicions vanished, though 
 his surprise remained. Joe was just the same as he 
 had been on the first night of the term. Without 
 saying much or doing anything, he seemed to pro- 
 duce an atmosphere of friendhness; but Ormsby, 
 instead of scoffing and jeering', had, as Sherwood 
 described it to himself, * turned on the other tap/ 
 and was bubbhng over with a desire to please. This 
 change, Sherwood readily acknowledged, was all for 
 the better ; but what did it mean ? Whv had these 
 fellows been so hostile, and why had they so sud- 
 denly altered ? Somehow or other, he could believe 
 that Joe was really glad to be friends with him ; 
 but although Ormsby was much the more effusive of 
 the two, it was difficult to swallow all that he said. 
 And, indeed, with the best intentions, Ormsby over- 
 played his part, and Joe instinctively knew that he 
 was overplaying it, and was very embarrassed when 
 Sherwood on the smallest opportunity turned from 
 Ormsby to him. Chiefly, however, Joe was sorry for 
 Ormsby, because he was playing the game for all he 
 was worth, and somehow or other he seemed to be 
 playing it before a fellow who suspected that it was a 
 game. 
 
 From that evening Sherwood was frequently asked 
 to come and see Ormsby and Joe, but Arkwright was 
 never included in these invitations. 
 
 ' It's a bit rough on the Infant,' Joe said more than 
 once. . ' He's not got a friend in the place except 
 Sherwood, and we bag him.' 
 
 * The Infant makes me sick. He's always whining 
 about his blooming inside ; he's simply hopeless.' 
 
 * He thinks you are the finest thing ever hatched,' 
 Joe said ; but Ormsby would not even look at this 
 bait. 
 
 * He can think what he jolly well pleases. He's 
 
AN EXACTING FRIEND 357 
 
 a nuisance, and the only thing to do with a nuisance 
 is to remove it.' 
 
 ' Poor wretch, he'll bolt or something. If you won't 
 look after him, I suppose I must ; but he really be- 
 longs to you.' 
 
 * Then I'll make you a present of him ; but I don't 
 see why Sherwood can't stick some sense into him,' 
 Ormsby replied. 
 
 ' The Infant gives himself airs, and says Sherwood 
 is " only a new fellow." ' 
 
 * If I catch the silly little ass spreading himself like 
 that, I shall kick him. A worm might as well try to 
 beat a drum,' Ormsby returned, and made a futile 
 attempt to whistle the National Anthem. 
 
 Without doubt Ormsby's temper had not been 
 improved by the strain of trying to conquer his dis- 
 like of Sherwood ; but Joe was so pleased with him 
 for making such a determined effort, that he was 
 not greatly troubled by the inconvenience it caused. 
 The chief bother was that after Ormsby had been 
 explosively irritable, he almost invariably apolo- 
 gized to Joe ; and when the latter tried to nip these 
 apologies in the bud, Ormsby turned on him again 
 and declared that any decent fellow would accept an 
 apology. 
 
 ' Then I ought to be a most awfully decent fel- 
 low, for I've accepted hundreds,' Joe retorted at 
 last. 
 
 ' I don't believe you've any more feeHng than a 
 frog,' Ormsby replied, and then added that he did not 
 niean what he had said. 
 
 It is true that Ormsby sometimes seemed to forget 
 all about Sherwood, and was just as gay and reckless 
 as he had ever been ; but, all the same, Joe had a 
 good deal to put up with, and his patience might not 
 have been so enduring had he not confidently expected 
 
358 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 that Ormsby would soon be laughing at his own 
 prophecies. 
 
 For a month or more Joe hugged this hope, and drew 
 great comfort from it ; but as the term went on, it 
 became perfectly certain to even the most deter- 
 minedly short-sighted observers that although Ormsby 
 and Sherwood might be friends, they were also destined 
 in one way to be rivals. 
 
 From the very beginning of the term Joe had been 
 told that he had got to keep wicket, and after one 
 orgy of saying that he was absolutely no use he had 
 remembered his father, and had decided that it was 
 idiotic of him to draw Palmer's attention to a thing 
 that would soon be obvious to everybody. ' I'm 
 going,' he said to Ormsby, ' to put my back into this 
 wicket-keeping business, and when I get the boot 
 no one will be able to say that I haven't had a shot 
 at it/ 
 
 Even Ormsby could not say that Joe was a born 
 wicket-keeper, but he did assure him that eventually 
 he might become a very useful one. The Fillings 
 and Finders and Blackhams of the cricket world have, 
 however, known by instinct what Joe had to try and 
 learn by practice. Courage he had in abundance. 
 ' If,' Max said, when he was watching him, ' he can't 
 stop the ball with his hands, he just puts his body in 
 the way.' Joe, in short, endeavoured to make up 
 for his lack of skill by his pluck, but the fact that he 
 thought more of keeping down byes than of stumping 
 people proved that he was not really a wicket-keeper. 
 Nevertheless, he was not so great a failure as the other 
 boys who were tried instead of him, and his place in 
 the First House Eleven was soon regarded as a cer- 
 tainty. 
 
 ' It begins to look,' he admitted to Ormsby, ' as if 
 I am going to get my colours ; but it's a bit of terrific 
 
AN EXACTING FRIEND 359 
 
 luck that IVe stumbled on what Max calls " a lean 
 year of wicket-keepers/' ' 
 
 ' Anyhow, you are better than anyone else, and I 
 haven't heard a single fellow grousing because you're 
 kept at the job,' Ormsby told him. 
 
 ' I shall grouse if you don't get your colours. Ex- 
 cept Armitage and Temperley, we haven't got a bowler 
 on the side,' Joe told him. 
 
 But Ormsby 's only reply was a grunt, for, although 
 he had been bowling well and getting a lot of wickets, 
 Sherwood had been equally successful. 
 
 At the beginning of the term Ormsby's bowling in 
 junior games had made quite a sensation in Max's. 
 Slow left-hand, with a high action, he had the knack 
 of bowling a ball that sometimes seemed to sail through 
 the air and sometimes quite obviously swerved. 
 Palmer and Armitage, who went from the School 
 Eleven nets to watch him, put his successes down to 
 ' a deceptive flight,' and considered that the Second 
 House Challenge Cup was as good as won. For a 
 fortnight or so on sticky wickets, Ormsby passed on 
 from success to success ; and then on an afternoon 
 when he was prevented from playing, Sherwood was 
 put on to bowl, and Palmer was told afterwards by 
 the Junior Captain that even a better bowler than 
 Ormsby had been discovered. 
 
 To this Palmer had replied with a shrug of his 
 shoulders, and Armitage, who had overheard the 
 eulogies of Sherwood, merely said ' Rats ! ' 
 
 ' If he isn't better, he's just as good. He's left- 
 handed, too, with just the same action, only he's a 
 little bit faster ; and I don't believe he would be 
 rattled if he was hit for thirty in an over,' the dis- 
 coverer of Sherwood retorted. 
 
 On the next evening, when Max's juniors were 
 playing Bonham's, Armitage and Palmer saw Ormsby 
 
369 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 bowling at one end and Sherwood at the other, and 
 also watched Bonham's Eleven dismissed for sixteen 
 runs, Ormsby taking five wickets for seven runs and 
 Sherwood five for nine. 
 
 ' They are as alike as two peas/ Palmer said. 
 
 ' The only difference I can see is that Ormsby has 
 dark hair and the other chap fair. We shall have to 
 put one of them in the First Eleven/ Armitage re- 
 plied. 
 
 ' Which of them ? ' Palmer asked. 
 
 ' There's heaps of time to decide that, but it's no 
 use to have two fellows who bowl exactly alike in one 
 Eleven. Either of those chaps can win the Second 
 House Cup on his head.' 
 
 ' One of them may fall off/ Palmer remarked, 
 almost as if he wished the problem might solve itself 
 in that way. 
 
 Neither Ormsby nor Sherwood, however, showed 
 any signs of falling off ; but the former had one ad- 
 vantage over his rival, and that was that he was the 
 better ' field ' of the two. A regular duel had begun 
 between them, and Ormsby naturally forgot that he 
 had begun the term by saying that he did not want to 
 get his First Eleven colours. Where Joe went he had 
 now resolved to go ; and though he praised Sherwood's 
 bowling in and out of season, he had a secret feeling 
 that it was just like this fellow to appear suddenly and 
 upset things. Without him, everything would have 
 been ' simply ripping.' As it was, Ormsby had to 
 profess a terrific friendship for Sherwood, so that 
 everyone in the house should not guess how cordially 
 he hated him. 
 
 Sherwood meanwhile quietly accepted what the 
 gods had given him, and managed to squash his feel- 
 ings of distrust of Ormsby. ' No fellow who did not 
 mean it could be half so friendly,' he said to himself, 
 
AN EXACTING FRIEND 361 
 
 * and it*s all the more decent, because I can't help 
 bowling rather like him/ Honestly, however, he 
 considered that Ormsby knew far more about bowling 
 than he did, and so the duel which the house was 
 watching with interest did not really trouble him. 
 His eyes, in fact, were not set upon the First Eleven, 
 but upon the Second, and he did not consider that he 
 was bound even to get into the latter unless he suc- 
 ceeded in improving his fielding and catching. So, 
 on one half-holiday when a school-match had finished 
 abruptly, he met Joe in the house, and asked him if 
 he would take a bat and ball into Max's field and hit 
 him some catches. 
 
 ' Rather,* Joe answered, and for half an hour 
 exercised both himself and Sherwood. Not a sus- 
 picion that Ormsby, who had gone to Mother Bloom- 
 field's, could disapprove of this performance ever 
 crossed Joe's mind ; but just as he was finishing, 
 Ormsby came into the field to bowl at a net, and when 
 he saw what Joe and Sherwood were doing he circled 
 round them and reached the net without speaking. 
 
 And on that same evening Joe discovered that he 
 was considered to have committed the lowest form 
 of treason. 
 
 ' My only chance,' Ormsby stormed, * of beating 
 that fellow and getting into the House Eleven with 
 you is that he simply can't catch for apples ; and 
 then you go and coach him up, and try to knock all 
 the chance I have got on the head. If another wicket- 
 keeper dropped through Max's roof, I'd try to cut his 
 fingers for him, while you slip off and hit catches for 
 Sherwood when you think I'm not looking.' 
 
 ' That's a beastly lie,' Joe replied. ' I never thought 
 anything about you ' 
 
 ' Of course you didn't ; you never do,' Ormsby 
 interrupted. 
 
362 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 * Oh, shut up for half a minute, and give me a 
 chance. What I meant was that I didn't shp off, as 
 you call it, and it's simply rotten of you to say that I 
 was coaching Sherwood up because I want to get him 
 into the Eleven instead of you. I was hitting catches 
 because he asked me to, and because I had nothing 
 else to do.' 
 
 ' Directly I'm out of the way you are always cling- 
 ing on to him, or the other way about,' Ormsby com- 
 plained. 
 
 Whereupon Joe kicked the waste-paper basket from 
 one end of the room to the other, and decided to tell 
 Ormsby precisely what he thought. 
 
 * I don't really care a brass farthing about the fellow, 
 and if there is any " clinging," I don't do it,' he said. 
 ' But if you keep on slating him, you'll make me like 
 him. It's all the most utter rot, and I'm sick to death 
 of it. Until you get rid of this humbug of ' 
 
 ' It isn't humbug ; it's a presentiment — a much 
 fatter thing,' Ormsby interrupted. 
 
 ' Whatever its blessed name is it's all rot, and 
 until you forget it I'd rather live with a roomful of 
 Barbary apes than with you.' 
 
 ' Wouldn't ordinary apes do ? ' Ormsby asked ; 
 but Joe took no notice of him. 
 
 ' I believe you are so stuck on your foresight, or 
 whatever you call it, that you will be sick to death if 
 Sherwood doesn't mess things up. You're like one 
 of those fellows who prophesy the end of the world, 
 and wouldn't they look precious asses if they happened 
 to prophesy right ! They'd jolly well be in the bag, 
 and serve them right too.' 
 
 As Joe relieved and revealed his feelings he marched 
 up and down the small room, and kicked at things as 
 he marched ; and when he had finished he sat down 
 abruptly and began to rub his toes. 
 
AN EXACTING FRIEND 363 
 
 * I should think you have broken a toe of two/ 
 Ormsby said. 
 
 ' They've been having a lot better time than my 
 fingers. It's about time they got hurt/ Joe replied 
 savagely. 
 
 And then Ormsby complicated the situation still 
 more by breaking into a tempestuous roar of laughter. 
 
 ' Fm blessed if I see what there is to yell about. 
 Can't a fellow rub his own toes ? ' Joe asked. 
 
 But Ormsby still continued to laugh. 
 
 * Oh, you're cracked/ Joe told him. 
 
 ' I'm not; but I've never seen you in a real rage 
 before. You're rather like Max ' 
 
 ' I'm blowed if I am/ 
 
 ' Fm sorry I was such an ass/ Ormsby spluttered, 
 * but it was almost worth it.' 
 
 ' Worth what ? ' 
 
 ' Why, seeing you sort of pumped up. You were 
 funnier than a circus.' 
 
 ' I hate circuses ; they smell,' Joe said ; and 
 Ormsby had to work very hard before he restored 
 him to his normal state of mind. 
 
 The atmosphere, however, had been cleared by Joe's 
 unexpected explosion, and for a very long time he and 
 Ormsby never had another quarrel nor even a dis- 
 agreement. To his unqualified delight, Ormsby was 
 put into the First House Eleven, and having got what 
 he wanted, his jealousy of Sherwood seemed to have 
 been put permanently to rest. 
 
 Max's won both the First and Second Eleven cricket 
 cups, and in the excitement of anticipating success 
 and of achieving it Joe found it very difficult to do 
 much more work for Mr. Ussher. ' At any rate,' he 
 told himself, ' I do more than Ormsby.' But when- 
 ever he thought of his promise to his mother, uneasy 
 prickings invaded his conscience. Before the exams. 
 
364 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 both he and Ormsby crammed terrifically for several 
 nights, but in the end Joe was only tenth in the 
 class and Ormsby twelfth. 
 
 ' It's good enough/ Ormsby said. * We shall both 
 of us get our remove next term.' 
 
 But Joe doubted whether it was * good enough * 
 to satisfy his mother, who at his request had saved him 
 from a holiday tutor. And when he saw his report, 
 and Mr. Ussher's brief remark, * Takes no trouble and 
 gives none,' he blushed hotly with shame. As far as 
 work was concerned, Mr. Ussher had literally wiped 
 him out and treated him as unworthy of considera- 
 tion. 
 
 Again he vowed that he would work * like anything ' 
 during the following term, but on this occasion he 
 did not offer any promises to his mother, nor did she 
 ask for any. 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 CHANGE AND DECAY 
 
 In Mr. Rumbold's opinion a year at Granby had made 
 a different boy of Joe. * Most of the rubbish,' he said 
 to his wife, ' has been knocked out of him, and he no 
 longer moons about as if he is looking for something 
 which he hasn't an outside chance of finding/ And 
 it was well that Joe had succeeded in satisfying his 
 father, for the latter was engaged during that August 
 in cutting, as it were, a set of false teeth, and was 
 often more petulant than a teething baby. Even 
 Bingo, who had got into the Cambridge Eleven with- 
 out the smallest difficulty, and had returned to Maiden 
 Croft with a numerous and lurid collection of new 
 colours, did not escape paternal criticism. 
 
 ' You seem to have about three ties for every day 
 of the week, and enough blazers to cover a cricket 
 pitch. Who, I should like to know, pays for all this 
 trumpery ? ' Mr. Rumbold asked when Bingo came 
 down to breakfast with the cerise, vermilion, and 
 magenta scarf of ' The Macedonians ' round his neck. 
 
 Although a little surprised and disgusted by such an 
 attack as this. Bingo refrained from replying to it. 
 ' The poor old Governor,' he and Flip had decided, 
 ' is out of sorts because he's always getting bunkered 
 by his teeth. What he wants is time,' 
 
 But Mr. Rumbold's complaint, in spite of his sons' 
 
 365 
 
366 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 decision, was really a strong and sudden desire to exer- 
 cise his authority over his family. ' They treat the 
 place as if it is an hotel, and they bring Tom, Dick, 
 and Harry here without telling me, and I have to pay 
 the bill. Every year they become more casual and 
 less grateful for what Fve done for them ; they would 
 ruin a Rothschild,' he had complained a few days 
 before to Mrs. Rumbold, and she had found herself in 
 the unusual position of having to defend her elder 
 sons against their father's anger. Vaguely she won- 
 dered if the Rumbold business was not partly re- 
 sponsible for her husband's abrupt awakening. 
 
 These false teeth had, of course, assumed an- enor- 
 mous importance in the daily life of Maiden Croft, 
 for their owner was not a man who could suffer any 
 inconvenience in silence. So often, in fact, did his 
 family find themselves talking about these new- 
 comers that Joe christened them ' Archibald,' and by 
 that name they were familiarly known. 
 
 Nevertheless the unwelcome presence of Archibald 
 could not, Mrs. Rumbold considered, be held account- 
 able for all the grumblings that she had heard. Money 
 or the lack of it must, she thought, be the primary 
 cause of the trouble, but she did not dare to suggest 
 that Maiden Croft might be managed on more econom- 
 ical lines. Such a suggestion as that would, she knew, 
 simply raise a storm without clearing the atmosphere. 
 At the very beginning of her married life she had been 
 told that she was not to bother about money, and 
 although she had once or twice struggled to take some 
 part in the financial arrangements of the house, her. 
 husband had shown a most outspoken contempt for 
 feminine financiers, and had practically forbidden her 
 to take part in affairs that were beyond her under- 
 standing. 
 
 So through all the years she had never concerned 
 
CHANGE AND DECAY 367, 
 
 herself about money, except often to think that it 
 would have been better for her sons if they had been 
 compelled to learn the value of it. As long as they 
 pleased their father every whim had been gratified, 
 and if they had been born with a sense of economy it 
 had become atrophied by disuse. 
 
 Although Bingo had weathered his father's first 
 attack by not replying to it, he put it down so com- 
 pletely to the irritating Archibald, that he continued 
 to upset the colour scheme of the Maiden Croft dining- 
 room with its gaudy raiment. 
 
 ' Why can't you dress properly for lunch ? It is 
 an insult to your mother to wear such a preposterous 
 blazer as that at a meal,' Mr. Rumbold said to him 
 some days after the first attack. 
 
 It was necessary, Bingo considered, to be very patient 
 witli his father at this tr37ing time, to humour him a^ 
 much as possible, and not to take any notice when 
 Archibald was in power. 
 
 ' Do you mind, mother ? ' he asked very quietly. 
 
 ' The colours scarcely seem to blend. Bingo,' she 
 answered. 
 
 ' What are the colours ? ' Mr. Rumbold asked. 
 
 ' Well,' Bingo said, looking at his sleeve, ' they are 
 a sort of red and a bit of ' 
 
 / I mean what club do they belong to ? ' Mr. Rum- 
 beld interrupted. 
 
 ' Oh, " The Macedonians," ' Bingo replied, as if 
 that settled the matter. 
 
 ' And who in the name of Fate are " The Mace- 
 donians," and if you want to dress yourself up like a 
 banjo-fellow on Margate sands, why can't you wear 
 the colours of some respectable club like the Free 
 Foresters ? ' Mr. Rumbold said incoherently, and 
 glared at the coat of many hues. 
 
 Bingo looked across the table and winked gaily at 
 
368 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 Flip. The wink was intended to convey that Archi- 
 bald was having a high old time. 
 
 ' The Macedonians are a dining-club at Cambridge, 
 only eleven members/ he said. 
 
 * Tve never heard of it. When was it started, and 
 who chose that abominable blazer ? ' Mr. Rumbold 
 asked. 
 
 ' We started it last term. We dine once a week, 
 and I'm President.' 
 
 ' Then the sooner you resign the better ; it is a 
 scandalous piece of ridiculous extravagance. You 
 have about twenty blazers already, and you aren't 
 content with them, but must go and get another lot 
 of colours, which mean nothing except that you over- 
 eat yourself once a week. I won't have it.' 
 
 Archibald was really running riot this afternoon. 
 Bingo thought, but he still determined to be pa- 
 tient. The next attack, however, upset both him 
 and Joe. 
 
 ' Just look at the difference between you and Joe,' 
 Mr. Rumbold continued. ' Any self-respecting horse 
 would shy if he met you, while Joe is dressed in respect- 
 able, grey flannels. If the King walked in to lunch, 
 Joe would be fit to be seen, but you would have to 
 rush out of the room.' 
 
 * I didn't know that you were expecting the King 
 to lunch ; he doesn't come often,' Bingo replied witti 
 a grin. 
 
 ' That's got nothing to do with it, for you knew 
 that your mother was lunching at home, and you 
 ought to be dressed properly. Will you now oblige 
 me by going upstairs and putting on a less offensive 
 coat.' 
 
 For a moment there was absolute silence in the room. 
 Joe, with a spoonful of fruit salad in his hand, held 
 it suspended between his mouth and his plate, while 
 
CHANGE AND DECAY 369 
 
 he locked to see what Bingo was going to do. In 
 the old days Joe had often been sent from meals on 
 some fHmsy pretext or another, but to find someone 
 else being treated in such a way was novel enough 
 to be exciting. Apparently Bingo's method of deal- 
 ing with his father's order was going to be a pretence 
 that he had not heard it, for he remained stolidly 
 in his chair. Indeed, so white with anger had he 
 become, that Joe wondered whether he was capable 
 of moving. 
 
 * Kindly do as I ask you,' Mr. Rumbold said in a 
 voice of strained poHteness from the top of the table. 
 
 And then Mrs. Rumbold came to Bingo's rescue. 
 
 * As we have nearly finished it seems rather un- 
 necessary for Bingo to change his clothes now. But 
 please don't wear that coat any more at meals,' she 
 said, and looked beseechingly at the Macedonian. 
 
 ' All right, mother/ Bingo managed to mutter ; 
 but he was far too angry to make even a pretence of 
 eating, and with an apology, which he cast forth for 
 anyone to pick up who wanted it, he soon afterwards 
 left the room. 
 
 ' You spoil them ; you spoil the whole lot of them — 
 spoil them disgracefully,' Mr. Rumbold said to his 
 wife when Flip and Joe had also vanished. 
 
 ' I am afraid they have become accustomed to 
 being spoiled,' she replied. ' And we are as much 
 to blame as they are.' 
 
 At this Mr. Rimibold looked angrily at her. What 
 he had said was that she had spoiled them, and he 
 had no intention of having to share the blame. 
 
 * You must stop spoiling them,' he said. 
 
 ' Isn't it a little difficult to stop suddenly when 
 it has been going on for years ? And isn't it a little 
 hard on them ? ' 
 
 ' No, not in the least ; it will be good for them. 
 
370 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 They are all outrageously extravagant ; even Joe's 
 bills for this term are pounds more than they ought 
 to be. He has had three straw hats/ 
 
 ' He told me about them/ said Mrs. Rumbold. 
 ' A large boy called Street sat on one, Joe upset a 
 bottle of red ink over another, and the third he has 
 now. But I will speak to him/ 
 
 ' I shall speak to the whole lot of them/ and at 
 that moment a servant came into the room with a 
 telegram. Mr. Rumbold tore open the envelope, 
 but as he read the telegram his face lost all signs 
 of stress and storm. 
 
 ' No answer/ he said to the servant, and then, 
 turning to his wife, he added : ' Read that/ 
 
 ' Self, 105 not ; Jumpy, 71 not. Lunch. — 
 Pads,' Mrs. Rumbold read. 
 
 ' How splendid,' she exclaimed, and never, she 
 thought, had the successes of her sons come at a 
 more opportune time. 
 
 ' Splendid, I should think it is ! And against 
 Lancashire, too, and they're about the best bowling 
 side in England. That will teach these old county 
 fogies not to threaten to leave Jumpy out, because 
 some of these schoolmasters are having their holi- 
 days. I shall send a long wire to Pads and Jumpy 
 this evening. I shouldn't wonder if both of them 
 make a couple of a hundred.' 
 
 For the time being, at any rate, both Archibald 
 and the necessity for economy were forgotten. Mr. 
 Rumbold poured out another glass of sherry, and 
 broke forth into paeans of delight over Pad's telegram. 
 Very frequently Mrs. Rumbold had been a listener 
 to similar ebullitions, but never before had she re- 
 ceived them with so much understanding and sym- 
 pathy. This cricket, which she had come to think 
 a most wonderful way of wasting time, was, after 
 
CHANGE AND DECAY 371 
 
 all, of real service, if it could, as if by magic, change 
 her husband from a scowling autocrat into an en- 
 thusiastic schoolboy. Secretly she blessed Pads for 
 making a hundred against Lancashire, and for wiring 
 to say so. 
 
 The sudden attack upon Bingo at luncheon had 
 shaken her more than she had yet realized, for he 
 had always been the very apple of his father's eye. 
 If Bingo was to be ordered from the room, there was 
 no knowing what sort of explosion might happen 
 next. She wanted time to think over the events 
 of that afternoon, and when she found Joe sitting 
 in her room, she told him to go and tell Flip and 
 Bingo what Pads and Jumpy were doing. 
 
 ' ril be back in a jiffy,' Joe replied. 
 
 ' I think I shall lie down for half an hour,' she said. 
 
 ' You aren't ill, are you ? ' he asked. 
 
 ' No, only a little tired, Joe.' 
 
 ' Why did father suddenly get into such a fright- 
 ful bait at lunch ? ' 
 
 Mrs. Rumbold shook her head ; but he still lin- 
 gered. 
 
 ' Fm pretty used to being gone for, but Bingo 
 isn't. I expect it's all old Archibald,' he said, and 
 reluctantly went off to find Flip and Bingo. He was 
 very glad that Pads and Jumpy were making such 
 a lot of runs, but he was not as surprised by their 
 success as he was by his father's attack upon Bingo. 
 It was, therefore, a little disappointing to be sent 
 off with a message when he wanted to talk about 
 this strange event. Moreover, he did not expect 
 that Bingo, at any rate, would have yet recovered 
 his temper. 
 
 Directly after lunch Bingo had taken off the 
 Macedonian blazer, and had crumpled it up and 
 thrown it into a corner of his bedroom. Then he 
 
372 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 pulled out as many coats as he could lay hands on, 
 and, having scattered them in all directions, he re- 
 membered that he had once possessed a black-and- 
 white check suit that had caused sonle sorrow in the 
 family. Being unable to find it, he rang the bell 
 and Jenny appeared. 
 
 ' Where's my coat ; that black-and-white check 
 thing ? ' he asked. 
 
 ' Gracious, what a mess ! Whatever have you 
 been doing, Mr. Bingo ? ' Jenny said. 
 
 ' I want that coat.' 
 
 ' Your mother gave it away for the last bazaar ; 
 you'd outgrown it.' 
 
 Whereupon Bingo swore, and Jenny at once turned 
 round and left him. 
 
 ' That old woman gives herself as many airs 
 as a peacock,' he muttered to himself, and seizing 
 the coat that was nearest to him, he put it on and 
 went into the garden. There he found Flip lying 
 in a deck-chair and looking as if he was on the point 
 of going to sleep. 
 
 ' When the Governor gets false teeth he ought to 
 go off for a rest-cure, and take Archibald with him,' 
 Bingo said, and spread himself out in the next chair 
 to Flip's. Quite badly he wanted a sympathetic 
 audience, but from the look of things he suspected 
 that instead of having his grievances listened to, 
 he would soon be listening to Flip's snores. 
 
 'You'll get it next,' he informed his somnolent 
 brother. 
 
 ' Not likely,' Flip grunted. » 
 
 ' The Governor's very nearly dotty. It's a precious 
 good thing he's started this new dodge of having no 
 servants to wait at lunch. What on earth would 
 they have thought of it ? ' 
 
 * They might have liked it,' Flip said. 
 
CHANGE AND DECAY 373 
 
 ' Anyhow, it is pretty rough being slated Hke that 
 before such a kid as Joe. I shall jolly well thrash 
 Joe if he says anything about it/ 
 
 ' Joe had the time of his life, and no wonder ; 
 he's been slated enough, and no one kicked up a 
 fuss about it,' Flip replied, and went most provok- 
 ingly to sleep. 
 
 For some time Bingo sat and pondered over the 
 way in which he had been treated, and the more he 
 thought of it the more aggrieved did he feel. His 
 father, no doubt, would ultimately say that he v/as 
 sorry, but whether such an insult could be wiped 
 out by any apology was more than Bingo could de- 
 cide. Finally, he resolved to show that he resented 
 being spoken to as if he was Joe or a baby, and visions 
 of the impression he would create by his dignified 
 coldness (which some people would have called 
 sulkiness) passed through his mind. And then, 
 having fixed upon his future line of conduct, he 
 stretched himself out and closed his eyes. No 
 sooner, however, was he beginning to forget his 
 troubles than he heard Joe shouting behind him. 
 
 * I say,' Joe began from some fifty yards away, 
 ' Pads has made 105 and Jumpy 71, and both of 
 them were not out at lunch. Father's had a 
 wire.' 
 
 Having delivered his message, Joe drew himself 
 up in front of Bingo, and regarded him with palpable 
 curiosity. 
 
 ' That's up against Lancashire,' Flip said, and 
 rubbed his eyes. 
 
 * It must be an absolutely plumb wicket if 
 Jumpy makes runs,' Bingo declared, and told Joe 
 to ' hook it.' 
 
 But Joe remained where he was, and continued to 
 stare at his brother. 
 
374 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 ' I told you to make yourself scarce/ Bingo informed 
 him. 
 
 * Why can't you fellows come and do something 
 instead of sleeping all, the afternoon ; you are a 
 brace of slackers/ he replied, and Flip guffawed 
 with laughter. 
 
 ' ril kick you round the lawn unless you clear 
 quick/ Bingo said. 
 
 ' I thought you would be a bit baity/ Joe returned, 
 and walked slowly away. 
 
 ' That kid's coming on,' Flip said, as he watched 
 Joe take a cricket-ball from his pocket and bowl it 
 across the lawn. 
 
 ' He's getting a lot too cheeky, and wants a jolly 
 good whacking,' was the reply. 
 
 Unknown to — or at any rate unnoticed by — Mr. 
 and Mrs. Rumbold, a battle between Joe and his 
 outraged brother began on that evening, and lasted, 
 with only very brief truces, to the end of the holidays. 
 But although Bingo gave more than he got in this 
 warfare, Joe proved conclusively that what Flip 
 had said about him was true. He was no longer an 
 outsider in his own home, and the feeling that he 
 had at length gained a position for himself made him 
 determined to maintain it. Sometimes, it is true, 
 he became supremely tired of the contest, and nego- 
 tiated for peace ; but no peace was possible while 
 he was only prepared to go half-way towards it, 
 and Bingo expected him to grovel and come the 
 whole of the way. 
 
 If Joe gained something in self-confidence and 
 determination during those holidays, he lost also for 
 a time some of the qualities that had made his mother 
 so hopeful for him. The process of becoming a 
 Rumbold was in ^f ull swing, and his earlier ambitions 
 and tastes seemed to drop from him like dead leaves 
 
CHANGE AND DECAY 375 
 
 from a tree. In justice to him, it must be said that 
 his mother was always so busy during this time of 
 change that he could get but little of her companion- 
 ship. Whenever he went to her room, either his 
 father was there, or she was writing letters, or someone 
 was coming to see her in a few minutes. Joe had 
 to put up with scraps and bits of time snatched from 
 a busy day, instead of being always welcomed ; 
 and although his mother treated him with the warmest 
 affection, he gradually came to the conclusion that 
 it was hopeless for him to invade her room. 
 
 ' I don't believe mother sees that I am growing 
 up,' he once complained to Jenny. 
 
 'Don't you get such ideas into your head,' she 
 had answered. ' Your mother worships you far more 
 than any boy deserves ; but she's busy just now.' 
 
 * What's she busy at ? I can never see her alone, 
 except for about two minutes at night.' 
 
 ' She's busy,' Jenny replied, and pursed her lips. 
 You might, Joe knew, as well try to get information 
 out of a sphinx as out of Mrs. Jennifer when she 
 didn't mean to give it. Yet that there was some 
 mystery in Maiden Croft Joe felt certain, and it seemed 
 to him to cast a kind of gloom over the place. His 
 father, after the attack on Bingo, had shown no 
 further signs of anger ; but somehow or other he 
 had changed, and Joe noticed the change and in a 
 sense regretted it ; for after living for years under 
 extremely critical eyes, it worried him to find that 
 his father had suddenly become so unobservant. 
 Something undoubtedly was the matter, but no 
 one would tell him what it was. Even Pads, when 
 appealed to, told him that he had better not bother 
 his head about other people's business. 
 
 * But do you know what it is ? ' Joe had persisted. 
 
 ' No ; but father gave Flip and Jumpy and Bingo 
 
376 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 and me a jaw about being extravagant the other 
 night.' 
 
 ' Was it a good jaw ? ' 
 
 ' No ; he didn't really seem to care much what 
 happens/ Pads replied. 
 
 * That's it/ Joe agreed ; ' he seems sort of slack. 
 Isn't there a patent food or something we could 
 give him to buck him up a bit ? ' 
 
 At this Pads laughed, for the idea of holding his 
 father down while Joe dosed him with patent medi- 
 cines seemed the very height of absurdity. 
 
 ' You'd better spend your time in bucking up at 
 Granby ; that will please the Governor as much as 
 anything/ he replied ; and Joe thought over this 
 advice, and decided that it was ' sound stuff.' 
 
 So he returned to school bent on pleasing his father, 
 and that meant, he knew, that games must count 
 before work, and that as long as he was successful 
 at the one, the other was not in the least important. 
 His father had got to be ' bucked up,' and Pads had 
 said that he could do it. That, for the time being, 
 was enough for Joe. 
 
 When, however, he had once more settled down at 
 Granby, he quickly discovered that Maiden Croft 
 was not the only place that seemed to have a cloud 
 cast over it. Max's house, which had been filled to 
 overflowing for ten years, was now seven short of 
 its full numbers, and some of the other houses were 
 in even a more depleted condition than Max's. The 
 school as a whole was over sixty boys short of its 
 maximum. 
 
 For some time there had been signs that Granby 
 was on the wane, but no one except Mr. Boyd and 
 a few other masters, who were promptly called 
 ' cranks,' had been alarmed. ' Schools,' the op- 
 timists had declared^ ' have their ups and downs ; 
 
CHANGE AND DECAY 377 
 
 we shall be refusing boys by the dozen in a year or 
 two/ The Governors of Granby had apparently 
 subscribed to this view, for they had remained 
 aloft and aloof, and had persuaded themselves that 
 nothing serious could really happen to a school of 
 such an old and established reputation as Granby. 
 
 * Perhaps,' one of them had said to a fellow- 
 Governor whom he had met in a club, ' Manning 
 pays more attention to games than is altogether 
 wise in this confounded fidgety and inquisitive age. 
 You might give him a hint if you see him.' 
 
 To hint anything to Dr. Manning was, however, 
 bound to be as inefectual as to try and guide a mule 
 by winking at it. He was a man of rooted ideas 
 and prejudices ; Granby — ^whatever anyone dared 
 to say — turned out its boys as gentlemen and ath- 
 letes. The British Empire had been built up and 
 maintained by gentlemen and athletes, and so 
 Granby was doing the best possible work in the best 
 possible way. When Mr. Boyd told him that com- 
 petition was getting keener every day, and that 
 Granby's list of intellectual successes was getting 
 smaller and smaller, he merely shrugged his shoulders 
 and answered that they had eleven boys in the last 
 Sandhurst list. 
 
 * It is practically impossible not to get into Sand- 
 hurst at present,' Boyd had answered. 
 
 ' That just shows what the country is coming to,' 
 Dr. Manning retorted. 
 
 There was no sense in trying to reason with such 
 a Head as this, but Mr. Boyd had foreseen the de- 
 cline of Granby, though he was far too fond of the 
 school ever openly to prophesy its misfortunes, or 
 to say, * I told you so,' when they came. 
 
 And then, at the beginning of this Christmas term, 
 William Rumbold's appointment to the editorship 
 
378 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 of the Daily Messenger was announced in the Press, 
 and almost immediately afterwards a series of ar- 
 ticles, called ' The Failure of our Public Schools,' 
 was begun in that paper. 
 
 It is probable that nearly every headmaster of 
 every public school in the United Kingdom imagined 
 that these articles were aimed directly at him, so 
 trenchant and so full of inside knowledge were they ; 
 but in no school did they cause such profound in- 
 dignation as at Granby. The boys read them, 
 discussed them, laughed over bits of them, pounced 
 on things that did not happen at Granby — on the 
 whole, scorned the idea that such a hallowed insti- 
 tution as an old public school was capable of im- 
 provement. 
 
 But among the majority of the masters at Granby, 
 the Messenger crusade was received with an anger 
 that prevented sane criticism. William Rumbold 
 was a renegade, a traitor, a snake in the grass who 
 was trying to advertize his paper by venomous at- 
 tacks on his old school, and by telling lies. 
 
 The article on the inadequate provision that public 
 schools made for sweeping epidemics of illness was. 
 Dr. Manning considered, so obviously directed at 
 Granby that, without consulting anyone, he answered 
 it in a long letter that was as unconvincing as it was 
 pompous. The vast majority, however, of head- 
 masters were not to be trapped as easily as Dr. Man- 
 ning had been ; their refuges against the onslaught 
 were silence, and a hope that public interest would 
 soon be switched off to some new scare. 
 
 /The public don't really care about education,' 
 one of them said, ' and the Messenger will soon find 
 out that these articles are falling fiat.' 
 
 But the Messenger went gaily on with its crusade 
 undl Max, at last goaded beyond endurance, swal- 
 
CHANGE AND DECAY 379 
 
 lowed large quantities of pride, and wrote to William 
 Rumbold. 
 
 ' I appeal to you as an old Granbeian/ he wrote, 
 * to cease from provoking public opinion in this un- 
 necessary manner. No good can possibly come from 
 the attack you are making, and you are playing di- 
 rectly into the hands of those who have a constitu- 
 tional dislike for the old-established schools, and who 
 want nothing so much as to see them ruined/ 
 
 To this request Max received a courteous, but 
 distinct, refusal. 
 
 ' It is because I am a supporter of public schools, 
 and do not wish to see them ruined, that,' William 
 Rumbold answered, ' I am allowing these articles 
 to be published. I agree entirely with you that 
 the parents are certainly as much to blame as any- 
 body. But as it is inconceivable that parents will 
 form themselves into a Union and insist that their 
 children shall be properly educated, I can think of 
 no better way to awaken them to their responsibility^ 
 than to show them what they are paying for, and 
 what they are getting for their money, and then 
 leave individuals to make a stir in the matter. I 
 notice that you put most of the blame for the un- 
 satisfactory results of a public-school education 
 upon the teaching at private schools, but after most 
 careful inquiries I find myself unable to agree with 
 you. I am, indeed, convinced that the majority of 
 private schoolmasters are thoroughly enlightened 
 in their methods of teaching, and also thoroughly 
 disgusted when their methods are upset by the ne- 
 cessity of cramming boys for ridiculously difficult 
 scholarship examinations. Granby, I am glad to say, 
 is not one of the sinners in this respect (for I hold 
 that it is a sin to tire out a boy's brain before he is 
 fourteen) ; but I must in honesty add that Granby 
 
38o A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 seems to me to have gone to the other extreme, and 
 to be aknost totally neglecting scholarship work 
 of any kind.' 
 
 This letter did nothing to appease Max, but he 
 found some relief in saying that when a man first of 
 all pitched into cramming, and then turned round 
 and pitched into a school for not cramming, he was 
 more fitted to occupy a padded cell than an editorial 
 c^air. 
 
 From that day Max banished the Daily Messenger 
 from his house, and rigorously tried to avoid what 
 he called ' the pestilential rag/ Ormsby soon dis- 
 covered that even to mention the Messenger in Max's 
 hearing was a safe * draw,' and so, when he felt that 
 a little excitement was needed at meals, he referred 
 to that paper, and invariably succeeded in attracting 
 Max's angry attention. 
 
 The final article, however, contained such a number 
 of revelations that, if Max had been stone-deaf, 
 he would have had but small chance of escaping from 
 them. Without claiming to be completely correct, 
 the Messenger concluded its crusade by publishing a 
 list of successes gained in competitive examinations 
 during the last four years by all the leading public 
 schools, and in this list it is enough to say that Granby 
 occupied an extraordinarily humble position. 
 
 ' Could any loyal Granbeian/ Max asked his wife, 
 'allow such a thing to be printed? Besides,' he 
 added, ' it isn't true ; the Head has already put 
 his finger on two omissions.' 
 
 ' What are they ? ' Mrs. Max asked. 
 
 ' One of them is Palmer ; they've given him an 
 exhibition at Queen's. He's up there now.' 
 
 Mrs. Max smiled quietly. She thought that she 
 knew why that exhibition had been given, and the 
 reason did not help her to believe — as she wished 
 
CHANGE AND DECAY 381 
 
 to believe — ^in the inaccuracy of the Messenger 
 list. 
 
 Whatever else William Rumbold's crusade may 
 have done, it definitely split the masters of Granby 
 into two parties. The one party, led by Mr. Boyd, 
 declared openly that it was more than time for them 
 to put their house in order ; the other party, with 
 Max as its leader, put their backs against the wall, 
 and said that Granby was above and beyond the 
 scurrilous attacks of the daily Press. For a time 
 Dr. Manning hovered between the hostile camps. 
 Perhaps even more than the average schoolmaster 
 he detested to be criticized, but, unlike most of the 
 men in his profession, criticism alarmed him. Ex- 
 pediency always appealed to him with irresistible 
 force. He wanted to see Granby overflowing with 
 boys because he was headmaster of it ; but he was 
 incapable of looking into the future, and he hated 
 the idea of reforms, because they would upset the 
 stately orderliness of his daily life. Routine had 
 swamped his imagination ; Granby had always been 
 one of the leading public schools, and always must 
 be. There was no more loyal set of men in the 
 world than the Old Granbeians, and they would 
 always send their sons to Granby. 
 
 It came as a shock to him to hear that the Old 
 Granbeian Football Club had been broken up for 
 want of members, and that the Granbeian Mission 
 in East London was suffering from both want of 
 funds and personal service. But his faith survived 
 these blows, and eventually he told Mr. Boyd and 
 his supporters that William Rumbold's effigy ought 
 to be burnt in the school grounds on the Fifth of 
 November. 
 
 By some means Ormsby got to hear what the Man 
 had said, and in consequence William Rumbold 
 
382 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 '(stuffed with straw) was burnt near the big school- 
 gates. Moreover, Joe was chosen to set him ahght, 
 and nearly the whole school watched him burning. 
 But the only results of this conflagration were that 
 Ormsby found out how painful it was to carry out 
 the Man's wishes, and that Joe suffered with him. 
 
 ' A grave dereliction of duty/ the Head called it, 
 and on the following Sunday preached a sermon 
 upon the dangers of insubordinate conduct. 
 
 The opinion, however, in Max's was that Drmsby 
 and Joe were * two rare sportsmen,' and the way in 
 which they had built William Rumbold (and stuffed 
 him) without being discovered, both added to their 
 popularity and brought them ceaseless invitations 
 to commit another exciting breach of the rules. 
 
 But the fact must be added that Ormsby and Joe 
 were not as clever as they were thought to be ; for 
 Max, exploring the underground rooms of his house 
 on the night of November 4, had found William 
 Rumbold propped rather drunkenly against a wall, 
 and had made up his mind not to mention this dis- 
 covery to anyone except his wife. 
 
 ' It's what he deserves. I should like to light him 
 myself,' he said. 
 
 ' Where are they going to burn him ? ' Mrs. Max 
 asked. 
 
 * I don't know. I shall have to see that they don't 
 set the house on fire.' 
 
 * Won't the Head be furiously angry ? ' 
 ' He advised it himself.' 
 
 ' But he is so — so wobbly.' 
 
 ' He has wobbled the right way at last,' Max said. 
 
 * I hope Joe won't get into trouble ; I suppose 
 he and Ormsby did it.' 
 
 * No need to bother about Joe ; he's getting on 
 splendidly this term,' Max replied. 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 MAX REGNANT 
 
 As far as Max was concerned, the ultimate outcome 
 of the Messenger's crusade was to increase his zeal 
 for physical fitness. ' If/ he said to Mrs. Max, ' a 
 boy has not got brains, no system of education ever 
 devised will provide him with them ; but as long as 
 he has got a body, you can help him to develop it.' 
 It seemed to Mrs. Max that her husband had prob- 
 ably missed his vocation in life ; he ought, she con- 
 sidered, to have been a professor of physical culture 
 instead of a schoolmaster. But she was so relieved 
 to see him casting off the bugbear which William 
 Rumbold had created, that she refrained from re- 
 torting that he had failed to see what the articles 
 in the Messenger had been aiming at. They, in her 
 opinion, had put forward a strong plea on behalf of 
 the boy with average brains, and had stated flatly 
 that many schools sent him out into the world with 
 a smattering of knowledge that was useless to him, 
 and with his tastes for everything except games 
 wickedly neglected. Like most sweeping assertions, 
 this one was not wholly true ; but Mrs. Max knew 
 that there was an element of truth in it. Her hus- 
 band's declaration that men knew what their sons 
 were going to get at Granby, and that consequently 
 it was their look-out if they sent them there, was 
 
 383 
 
384 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 right as far as it went, but it did not go far enough. 
 Mrs. Max remembered that she had been compelled 
 to give up a greengrocer, because he insisted on pro- 
 viding her with turnip tops when she had ordered 
 Brussels sprouts. 
 
 The future of Granby did not appear to her to be 
 very hopeful ; but whatever troubles were in store, 
 the only thing that she could do, either now or then, 
 was to try to restrain the impetuosity of her husband. 
 For the present he was taking a grim delight in 
 saying, ' If the old place is going to pieces, they will 
 find most of the school challenge cups in this house.' 
 Not for a moment did he imagine that Granby was 
 going to pieces, but the fact that his house was not 
 full gave him some sleepless nights, and provoked a 
 most intense determination that it should not lose 
 anything of its athletic lustre because it happened 
 to be rather short of boys. Palmer, West, and Rose 
 had left, but Armitage remained, and after a con- 
 sultation with him Max summoned all his boys to 
 the hall, and addressed them in a stirring speech. 
 The gist of what he said was that, at all costs, against 
 attacks from without (tremendous cheers) and from 
 within (cheers), the honour and reputation of Max's 
 must be upheld. 
 
 His boys left the hall with a vehement desire to 
 serve, and to serve him. He had aroused their in- 
 dividual feelings, and had knit them, at any rate for 
 the time being, into a corporate body, eager for 
 nothing so much as to see Max's triumphing over 
 difficulties. 
 
 Into the maelstrom of athletic energy that fol- 
 lowed, both Joe and Ormsby took a large and willing 
 part. Max had persuaded them that there was 
 something they could do, and Joe at the same time 
 remembered that whatever successes he could gain 
 
MAX REGNANT 385 
 
 in the athletic world were likely (so Pads had said) 
 to * buck up ' his father.- It was a slice of luck, 
 Joe thought, to be able to kill two birds with one 
 stone ; but he did not recognize that in trying to 
 please Max and his father he was also pleasing him- 
 self, and he forgot almost entirely that he had prom- 
 ised to ' work like anything/ That promise, as far 
 as he thought of it at all, seemed to belong to the 
 dim and distant past, to a time when things were 
 very different from what they had now become — 
 and not half so exciting. Max's had to be saved 
 from losing an atom of the glory it had been accus- 
 tomed to, and on which it lived ; his father had to 
 be ' bucked up ' ; and his mother, who understood 
 everything, would surely see that ' no fellow could 
 do about half a dozen things with all his might at 
 the same time.' 
 
 Joe's school work rapidly became a very secondary 
 consideration, and after he had been moved into a 
 room by himself, he often burst in upon Ormsby, 
 and was surprised to find him working. Side by 
 side, however, they moved up class by class through 
 the school, Joe's natural ability for verses and proses 
 making up in a large measure for the marks he lost 
 by neglecting his translations and ' rep.' Addi- 
 tionally, he was always able to get a few marks extra 
 for the French that he had learned as a child, and not 
 yet forgotten ; and when a master showed him how 
 to do a sum, he could rattle off, with incredible speed, 
 a lot of sums precisely like it. 
 
 It may be said of him that he continued to work 
 in school, but never did a moment's more prepara- 
 tion than he could help. The hours in which he was 
 supposed to be preparing his work he spent chiefly 
 in reading novels, poetry (at which Ormsby laughed), 
 and in scribbling bits of articles and stories, which 
 
 13 
 
386 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 he generally had the courage to tear up. He did, 
 however, battle for several nights with an account 
 of the fight between Durdington and Glyde, as re- 
 lated to him by Mr. Tom Flood, and after he had 
 wasted an enormous amount of paper, he at last 
 succeeded in writing ' The End.' Then, without 
 reading what he had written, he put it hastily in an 
 envelope, which he covered with more stamps than 
 its bulk demanded, and addressed it to the * Editors 
 of the Granbeian.* 
 
 A few days afterwards the editors sent for him, 
 and he discovered that they were Mr. Anderson, 
 his first-form master, and a sixth-form boy named 
 Peel, whom Joe considered the most outrageous 
 
 prig. 
 
 ' We want things like yours,' Mr. Anderson said, 
 
 ' and we hope you will go on writing. The Granheian 
 
 isn't intended to be merely a chronicle of games ; 
 
 we want to encourage boys to write for it.' 
 
 At this Joe blushed scarlet. Apparently his 
 ' thing ' was accepted, and that was a greater slice 
 of luck than he had ever anticipated. It would make 
 him ' one up ' on Ormsby, whose ' Life of Max ' 
 was still in the chrysalis stage. 
 
 ' Our object is to develop any literary talent we 
 can find. Anyone who sends us things, however 
 crude and unformed they may be, will receive our 
 attention,' Peel remarked ; and although Joe felt 
 as if a bucket of cold v/ater had suddenly been hurled 
 over him, his trust in Mr. Anderson remained. 
 
 ' Are you going to stick it in ? ' he asked him, 
 and turned his back on Peel. 
 
 ' Yes, if you are willing to have it slightly altered. 
 Peel and I will do that for you.' 
 
 ' Rather ! ' Joe said. 
 
 ' You see,' Peel told him, ' the title, '* A Jolly 
 
MAX REGNANT 387 
 
 Good Fight/' is not literary enough for us. I have 
 suggested to Mr. Anderson that it should be called 
 '* An Historic Battle.'' And your style wants super- 
 vision. You split your infinitives ' 
 
 Joe's face was such a study in astonishment that 
 Mr. Anderson laughed out loud. 
 
 ' To my certain knowledge, George Meredith split 
 ojie infinitive/ he said. 
 
 * A slip, no doubt,' Peel remarked ; and Mr. 
 Anderson continued to laugh. To hear Meredith 
 being mildly patronized by Peel was a compensation 
 for the time that had to be spent with his co-editor. . 
 
 ' If George Meredith splits his infinitives — and I 
 don't know exactly what you mean — I don't mind 
 doing it,' Joe remarked. 
 
 ' Have you read Meredith ? * Peel asked. 
 
 * Most of his novels, and some of his poetry.' 
 
 ' Oh,' Peel exclaimed ; but as soon as he had recov- 
 ered from the shock of finding a junior who had read 
 more of Meredith than he had, he continued : * You 
 don't want to copy a man's faults.' 
 
 ' I have never seen more than one split infinitive 
 in Meredith,' Mr. Anderson interrupted. 
 
 * You don't, in fact, want to copy any man. Ste- 
 venson I can recommend ' 
 
 * I've read " Treasure Island " two or three times,' 
 Joe said. 
 
 ' Then you might have learned more from it than 
 you seem to have,' Peel said impatiently. * You 
 use three adjectives, all of which mean the same thing, 
 and each one of which is more unnecessary than the 
 other.' 
 
 ' I don't see how they can be if they all mean the 
 same thing,' Joe replied, and then added quickly : 
 ' but it's awfully decent of Mr. Anderson and you to 
 bother about my stuff. Please unsplit anything 
 
388 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 you like, and cut out all my adjectives. I remember 
 I did simply pour them out. I heard a Canon preach 
 here one Sunday last term, and he simply stuck 
 about six adjectives to every noun, and I thought it 
 sounded all right.' 
 
 Peel shrugged his shoulders. * The dear Canon is 
 renowned for his adjectives,' he said, ' but I am sure 
 that even he would never write " to gaily sing," and 
 ** to rapidly march." ' 
 
 ' Oh, that's it ! ' Joe exclaimed ; * I see now.' 
 
 * Never mind, Rumbold ; there are worse things 
 in writing than to split infinitives. We will edit 
 your fight for you.' 
 
 In the very next number of the Granheian Joe read 
 what Mr. Anderson, Peel, and he had written, and 
 also heard what his friends thought of it. The 
 general opinion was that to fill three pages of the 
 magazine with such * undiluted tosh ' just showed 
 what an ass Peel was. ' Whoever,' Battersby asked 
 in the dormitory, ' wants to know what a lot of 
 Durdington rustics did ? ' 
 
 ' It wasn't a bad gibe, all the same,' Ormsby said, 
 and looked at Joe. 
 
 ' I could write bunkum like that by the yard,' 
 Arkwright declared. 
 
 ' If you do, I shall think it my duty to kick you,' 
 Webster told him. 
 
 ' I shall send a sonnet to the next number,' Cole 
 remarked. 
 
 * What do you think about it, Joe ? ' Sherwood 
 asked. 
 
 For a moment this question remained unanswered, 
 and then Joe resolved to burn his boats. ' I wrote 
 the blooming thing,' he said, and at the same time 
 he burst into laughter. 
 
 Very possibly his habit of laughing at himself was 
 
MAX REGNANT 389 
 
 partly responsible for his popularity. As Arkwright, 
 who liked to analyze things, had once remarked to 
 Sherwood, ' Joe seems to be able to get out of his own 
 skin, and treat himself as if he is somebody else. I 
 believe that's why even a fellow like Cole, who hated 
 him at fir^t, is quite decent to him now.' 
 
 At any rate, Joe's laughter on this occasion took 
 the edge off the criticism that followed his announce- 
 ment. 
 
 ' If you want to write, you might keep it to yourself,' 
 Battersby said. 
 
 ' I call it beastly cheek, airing yourself in the 
 Granbeian,' Crake, gorgeous in Cambridge blue 
 pyjamas, declared. 
 
 ' Joe's cracked,' was Street's opinion. 
 
 ' What on earth made you do it ? ' Webster asked 
 very solemnly. 
 
 ' It's been worth it just to hear what all you fellows 
 say,' Joe replied. 
 
 ' Well, you mustn't do it again, or I shall have to 
 report you to Max. We've a lot to do without filling 
 the Granbeian up with drivel,' Battersby told him. 
 
 But although Joe's contribution to the Granbeian 
 was treated either as a joke or as a piece of cheek 
 by his friends, he sent it to his mother, and for the 
 next two years she treasured it as evidence that in 
 the course of time he would not be so easily satisfied 
 with his life at Granby. Not that she was wholly 
 dissatisfied with him as he was, for his faults seemed 
 to be negative, and his natural desire to look at the 
 happy side of things was of the greatest help to her 
 when he was at home for his holidays. 
 
 The necessity for economy laid siege to Maiden 
 Croft during those years, and although it soon be- 
 came abundantly evident that Joe could never 
 become as extraordinary an athlete as his brothers, 
 
390 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 the fact that he was trying desperately to maintain 
 the family tradition seemed to be a ceaseless pleasure 
 to his father. 
 
 Every term Max expressed golden opinions that 
 would have aroused Joe's most cordial disapproval 
 iiad he heard them. 
 
 • If he is not a remarkably successful scrum-half, 
 no one tries more than he does. He helped us to 
 win the cup last term both by his play and cheerful- 
 ness in the house. Everybody likes him.' 
 
 ' As a wicket-keeper he is not first-rate, but he is 
 as keen at the end of a long innings as he is at the 
 beginning. It is impossible for anyone to be slack 
 if he is on the side.' 
 
 ' It is a pity his pace has not increased as he gets 
 stronger, but I still have great hopes of him as a 
 runner, for he can go on running for a week without 
 any trouble.' 
 
 Joe's devotion to the house had, in fact, made Max 
 less critical of, and less ambitious for, him. As at 
 Maiden Croft, so at Granby, these two years had been 
 a period of stress and struggle. What Mr. Boyd 
 referred to privately as ' the rot ' had spread rapidly. 
 Granby, term by term, became more and more anxious 
 to receive boys, and more and more bewildered when 
 its numbers grew less and less. One or two houses 
 were still practically full — Max's was never more than 
 twelve short of what it would hold — but at the end 
 of Joe's third year the school was over a hundred 
 and thirty short of its proper numbers, and the Gov- 
 ernors had come to the conclusion that drastic steps 
 to remedy this state of things must be taken* 
 
 The ' drastic steps ' that they took were to obtain 
 a Deanery for Dr. Manning, and to appoint the Rev- 
 erend Henry Challoner to be Headmaster of Granby. 
 At this appointment Mr. Boyd and his friends openly 
 
MAX REGNANT 391 
 
 rejoiced. Challoner was a young man and a scholar ; 
 an immense opportunity was waiting for him, and 
 they beheved that he had the energy and abiUty to 
 take it. 
 
 On the other hand, Max's party considered that 
 the Governors had made a very great mistake. 
 
 ' They have,' Max wrote to Mr. Rumbold, ' chosen 
 a man scarcely thirty years old, whose experience 
 is not worth mentioning, and who is known to hold 
 very advanced views. For a school with no history 
 and traditions at the back of it, such an appointment 
 might conceivably be wise, but even- then it would 
 be a leap in the dark. I have always held that an 
 Old Granbeian ought to be the Head of Granby, and 
 I know that both Fawcett and Trentham were can- 
 didates. However, the Governors have decided to 
 pass them over, and to give us Challoner. I can only 
 hope that the future will prove the wisdom of their 
 choice, but at the moment I confess that many of 
 my colleagues are dismayed at the prospect of being 
 directed by such an inexperienced man. Challoner, 
 they tell me, took three firsts at Oxford, but I have 
 often found that these very brilliant scholars are 
 failures as disciplinarians, and quite lacking in powers 
 of organization. Did you see Challoner's portrait 
 in the Sphere ? I heard Joe deliver his verdict of 
 ** rather decent " upon it yesterday, and another 
 boy reply that he thought our new Head looked 
 " rather a rotter." Our vocabulary, you will notice, 
 remains as limited as ever/ 
 
BOOK IV 
 THE NEW HEADMASTER 
 
CHAPTER I 
 
 MARKING TIME 
 
 TOURING the years in which Joe was passing from 
 -L^' fifteen to seventeen many changes had happened 
 at Maiden Croft. Adversity had attacked the Rum- 
 bold business, but as some compensation for these 
 misfortunes Mr. Rumbold lost much of his arrogance. 
 For the first time Mrs. Rumbold had known what 
 it was to be of real use and support to her husband, 
 and during these years she stepped into her right 
 place as mistress of her home. 
 
 To all intents and purposes it fell to her lot to 
 explain the change of fortunes to her sons, and to 
 ask them to meet it cheerfully. And on the whole 
 they did not disappoint her. Jumpy at once made 
 calculations, and came to the conclusion that it 
 would be cheaper to live in rooms with a friend than 
 to be running backwards and forwards from London 
 to Maiden Croft. And having arrived at this decision 
 he announced it in as few words as possible, packed 
 up his things, kissed his mother, and departed. 
 Flip continued to live at Maiden Croft, but until 
 things were better he had ' chucked ' — -as he said — 
 cricket. He did not, however, grumble as much as 
 he easily might have done, and if he boasted privately 
 to his mother that he, and he alone, was keeping the 
 Rumbold business together, she only smiled at his 
 
 395 
 
396 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 conceit and was duly thankful that he had put his 
 shoulder to the wheel. 
 
 Pads managed to get a degree at Cambridge, and 
 with ' blues ' thick upon him, at once accepted an 
 offer to teach small boys at a fashionable private 
 school. 
 
 ' Goodness knows what I am going to teach them,' 
 he said, ' but I suppose Carruthers will tell me. Any- 
 how, rU stay there until he kicks me out.' 
 
 ' You will only stay there until things have been 
 pulled together. Fm not going to have a son of mine 
 teaching small boys the alphabet,' Mr. Rumbold had 
 replied, with some show of his old spirit. 
 
 'It's quite honest,' Pads explained. * I told Car- 
 ruthers the only thing I had ever taught was swimming, 
 and that Joe had been my only pupil. He knows 
 what he's in for, and I may like it.' 
 
 He went off with a great display of cheerfulness, 
 and promptly wrote to his mother that he was having 
 the time of his life. If he had said the longest time of 
 his life he would have been more truthful and less to 
 be admired, for the hours that he spent in presiding 
 over the struggles between small boys and vulgar 
 fractions seemed to him to be without end. Fortu- 
 nately, he liked small boys when he was not endeav- 
 ouring to teach them, or his penance would have 
 been severer than he could have endured. 
 
 Bingo at the end of his second year at Cambridge 
 came into collision with the authorities, and had the 
 rather grim satisfaction of being the only ' triple 
 blue ' who had ever been sent down from his college. 
 He imagined that his father would immediately set 
 to work to put the Dean in his proper place, but Mr. 
 Rumbold did no such thing. Instead of Maiden 
 Croft being upset from garret to cellar by the Dean's 
 injustice and imprudence. Bingo discovered that he 
 
MARKING TIME 397 
 
 himself was in disgrace, and had been banished — it 
 was his own way of expressing it — to an Agricul- 
 tural College. There he reigned supreme, and was 
 reigning when Mr. Challoner was appointed to Granby. 
 His mother's requests, however, that he should be 
 economical fell upon deaf ears. If he was com- 
 pelled to go into exile at an Agricultural College, he 
 intended to make a splash there ; and he carried 
 out his intentions. 
 
 In Joe's case it was unnecessary to preach economy, 
 for although he had invariably been reckless in spend- 
 ing what money he had got, he had never, either at 
 his private school or at Granby, clamoured for more to 
 be sent to him. And as regards clothes, he clung so 
 tenaciously to his ancient raiment that his mother 
 and Jenny had almost to bribe him before he would 
 be separated from it. Socks, which occupied a good 
 deal of Ormsby's time and attention during his third 
 year at Granby, did not appeal urgently to Joe. 
 
 ' If,' he said, ' all you have got to do to become a 
 blood is to make your feet sort of rainbowy, I'm both- 
 ered if it is worth it.' _ 
 
 ' Why do you have a slit in the back of your coat ? ' 
 Ormsby had replied. 
 
 ' I'm blest if I know ; because the tailor stuck it 
 there.' 
 
 * You're posing, Joe,' Ormsby retorted. ' You 
 pretend to despise socks and ties and decent-looking 
 trousers, and yet you always look all right. If you 
 will go up to school with your trousers turned down, 
 and a sweater and no tie, I'll begin to believe in 
 you.' 
 
 ' I'm not out to get a freakship, and I don't care 
 a red cent what socks you wear if you don't want me 
 to look at them.' 
 
 ' That's just like you, you never care what happens 
 
398 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 to me. You wouldn't bother if I suddenly burst 
 out into a volcano of spots ; I don't believe you 
 would even notice them/ 
 
 '•* Now you are beginning to talk rot/ Joe replied, 
 and Ormsby gave a grunt of satisfaction. 
 
 Joe's equability was still a source of annoyance to 
 the emotional Ormsby. The former's idea of friend- 
 ship was a steady progress along a straight line. If 
 a boy was his friend he stood up for him in all crises, 
 but he preferred that the support should be given 
 behind the friend's back. (Drmsby, on the other 
 hand, preferred something more exciting and de- 
 monstrative than this. 
 
 Nevertheless this friendship had strengthened as 
 the years passed. Joe found in Ormsby something 
 that was lacking in nearly every boy in Max's. He 
 was friendly enough with most of the boys in the house 
 now that Rose had gone and Cole was no longer a 
 nuisance, but with the exception of Piper and one or 
 two others who were idiotic enough to lose their money 
 by betting, they were very much of a pattern. 
 
 So Ormsby, with his unexpectedness, was a god- 
 send. You never knew what he would do next, or 
 what he would say. But although Ormsby's im- 
 pulsiveness and inability to stop himself from making 
 rather cruel fun of boys like Arkwright had prevented 
 him from becoming very popular, he was an influence 
 in Max's, and knew that he was. That influence he 
 had used solely for two purposes : the first to push 
 himself up the ladder, the second to drag Joe with 
 him. 
 
 His devotion to Joe was — if secondary to his de- 
 votion to himself — very real and incessant. So in- 
 cessant, indeed, was it, that Joe sometimes felt as if 
 he required a holiday, and on those occasions Sher- 
 wood was always at hand with offers of companion- 
 
MARKING TIME 399 
 
 ship. These offers, however, were never accepted 
 in the spirit in which they were made, for Joe had 
 gradually been compelled to acknowledge to himself 
 that Ormsby was after all ' a bit of a prophet,' and 
 that Sherwood was really trying to ' mess things up.' 
 The best of the whole thing was, in Joe's opinion, 
 that Ormsby seldom showed any signs of suspecting 
 how true a prophet he was. 
 
 In those days Joe often remembered and smiled 
 to himself at Ormsby's ancient remarks about Rum- 
 boldships, for Bingo himself had never been keener 
 on colours and caps than Ormsby had become. 
 
 ' You've got to buck up like mad ; I've got my 
 Twenty-two colours, and you must get yours,' was a 
 sample of the advice that was constantly sounding 
 in Joe's ears. 
 
 And if Joe replied that he did not want to get colours 
 unless he was worth them, Ormsby would retort that 
 they had made a bargain to become bloods together, 
 and that he was not going on unless Joe was coming 
 with him. ^,j 
 
 Colours, in fact, were the symbols of bloodship at 
 Granby, and when Joe, forgetting for a moment the 
 task he had set himself, had called them * tinkling 
 symbols,' he was roundly abused. 
 
 The outcome of Ormsby's determination had been 
 that he had won for himself a very comfortable niche 
 in the Granby athletic world. He had outdistanced 
 Sherwood, for the latter was still only in the First 
 House Eleven. In football, too, he meant to get 
 into the School Fifteen during the term that was 
 coming, and to say that as he was stand-off half he 
 could play with nobody except Joe as his scrum-half. 
 If, however, he was to dictate terms to his captain, 
 he knew that he would have to make himself indis- 
 pensable to the Fifteen, for he was dismally aware 
 
400 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 that at least three boys, Tudor, de Saumarez, and Sher- 
 wood, were as good scrum-halves as Joe. 
 
 But the chief difficulties in regard to this arrange- 
 ment he expected to come from Joe himself, for at 
 the end of their third year at Granby he had shown 
 more than one sign of restiveness at being continually 
 urged on to athletic glory. In the Classical Football 
 Fifteen and Cricket Twenty-two, a fair fives player, 
 and more than a fair runner, Joe seemed to Ormsby 
 to be utterly oblivious of the fact that already he was 
 almost qualified as a blood. 
 
 Ormsby, watching over him, was puzzled by his 
 lack of self-importance. Joe, he considered, was get- 
 ting the things that were most important to get at 
 Granby, and still appeared to be eternally dreaming 
 of something else. There was a future danger in this, 
 and when Ormsby and Joe returned once more to 
 Granby the former resolved to deal with it at olice. 
 After all the trouble he had taken, he did not mean 
 to let Joe off his part of the bargain ; the game had 
 to be played through to the end. 
 
 So, having cleared Arkwright out of Joe's room on 
 the fir^t night of the term, he sat down in the most 
 comfortable chair and opened fire. 
 
 ' I wish, Joe,' he said, ' you wouldn't encourage 
 worms like Arkwright to treat your room as if it is 
 their own.' 
 
 * The Infant was just lending me a book,' Joe re- 
 plied, and began to hang a picture on the wall. 
 
 ' What book ? ' 
 
 ' A book of poems by a man called T. E. Brown.' 
 Ormsby expressed himself freely about poets in 
 general, and T. E. Brown in particular, reserving, 
 however, his most unqualified disapproval for Ark- 
 wright and smugs of his brand. 
 
 * You've come back in your usual rage with every- 
 
MARKING TIME 401 
 
 thing. You always seem to bottle it up for the first 
 day of term,' Joe said, and stood on a chair to put his 
 pictures straight. ' By the way,' he added, ' it's your 
 turn to have our William Rumbold masterpiece.' 
 
 ' I'll give it to you. No, I won't,' Ormsby corrected 
 at once. * I believe it's a sort of mascot or whatever 
 you call it. We'll go on sharing it, and I'U stick it 
 in my room with its face to the wall.' 
 
 * Do you know that Max is going to send in your 
 name and mine as school-prefects ? ' Joe asked 
 him. 
 
 ' Yes,' Ormsby answered. * Temperley won't make 
 a bad head if we back him up properly.' 
 
 To this Joe made no reply, but Ormsby's next re- 
 mark made him turn from his pictures and ultimately 
 descend to the floor. 
 
 ' What's the matter with you, Joe ? I've come to 
 find out and to knock it on the head,' he said. 
 
 ' The matter,' Joe repeated, and then sat down 
 abruptly. 
 
 ' Yes, the matter. Aren't you keen any longer ? ' 
 
 There was a note of appeal in Ormsby's voice to 
 which Joe could not save himself from responding. 
 
 ' Of course I'm keen. Don't you worry about that,' 
 he said. 
 
 * You see,' Ormsby continued quietly, * we shall 
 both be in the Lower Sixth this term and regular 
 bloods. Temperley will be President of the Pow- 
 Wow Club, and you can be Vice if you want to be. 
 But you've got to put your back into getting into the 
 School Fifteen.' 
 
 ' You aren't there yet,' Joe said, and laughed. 
 
 ' No, but I played several times last Easter term.' 
 
 * So you did,' Joe remarked, as if he had forgotten 
 this important fact. 
 
 * I'm pretty well bound to be stand-off half, and I 
 
402 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 shall have something to say about the fellow who 
 plays with me/ Ormsby declared. 
 
 ' Then for mercy's sake don't say anything about me 
 unless I improve. I'm as slow as a snail.' 
 
 * A keen chap would jump at the chance.' 
 
 ' Oh, shut up. Unless I improve I haven't a dog's 
 chance. Tudor's better than I am, and so is Sher- 
 wood.' 
 
 ' I don't believe you want to get in, you're sick of 
 the whole game ; you're sort of missing something. 
 What is it ? ' 
 
 ' I'm blessed if I know,' Joe replied, but he felt as 
 if Ormsby's insight was almost uncanny. 
 
 ' You've got to go on now you've begim. You've 
 jolly nearly got there.' 
 
 ' Got where ? ' 
 
 ' Why, to the blooming top.' 
 
 ' Oh, I'll go on. My father would be awfully sick 
 if I didn't, and — ^well, it's jolly decent of you. Youll 
 " get there " aU right.' 
 
 ' And it's worth it.' 
 
 ' Rather,' Joe agreed, and began to talk about the 
 new Head. * He's only about thirty, and has about 
 half a dozen firsts,' he said. 
 
 ' He'll probably clear out the Jungle,' Ormsby 
 remarked, and Joe began to laugh, for the * Jungle ' 
 was the Granbeian name for the class into which the 
 especially brainless athletes of the school had been 
 packed by Dr. Manning. Once in the Jungle a boy 
 w^s considered to be safe from superannuation, because 
 by a polite fiction he was held to be specializing. 
 What he was specializing in was usually, however, 
 neither known to himself nor to anyone else. 
 
 * If,' said Joe, ' he clears out the Jungle he will 
 make Max jump with fury.' 
 
 * This is the first time for three years that more 
 
MARKING TIME 403 
 
 fellows have come here than have left. We're three 
 less short than we were last term ; Max won't quar- 
 rel about that/ Ormsby replied. 
 
 ' It's rather sport having a new Head.' 
 
 * If he doesn't go changing everything ; but/ 
 Ormsby continued, ' when you've been used to one 
 chap it's rough luck to find you've got to change 
 round and get used to another. It may be all right 
 for the place in the end if this Head upsets everything 
 we've been brought up on, but it will be rotten for 
 the fellows who are here now.' 
 
 ' He won't be such an ass,' Joe replied. 
 * * ^t ^ * * 
 
 In appointing Mr. Challoner to Granby the Gover- 
 nors knew that they were gambling. The more 
 cautious of them had advised a safer man, one who 
 would not let the school down further, even if he had 
 not the power to rebuild its fortunes. In the end, 
 however, they had been persuaded to discard the less 
 perilous course, and fearfully to pin their faith upon 
 the youngest man who had applied for the post. 
 
 But Mr. Challoner's youthfulness, which had 
 seemed to some of the Governors his chief drawback 
 and to others his chief recommendation, was really 
 of less importance than they thought. His supporters 
 had expected that he would dash upon Granby like 
 an intelligent whirlwind, and that progress would 
 walk hand-in-hand with reform from the very moment 
 he arrived. While the Governors, who had opposed 
 him, remembered that Granby lay behind a fortified 
 wall of tradition, and prophesied nothing but disaster 
 from the hot-headedness and inexperience of this 
 young man. Both parties agreed that great changes 
 would at once be made, but as regards the results 
 of them they held very different opinions. 
 
 Mr. Challoner, however, though young in years, was 
 
404 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 not so impetuous as both his friends and antagonists 
 had expected him to be. For some weeks there was 
 only one change that could fairly be put down to him 
 for either praise or blame, and that was the removal 
 of Mr. Boyd from taking the Lower Sixth, to the class 
 into which most of the promising bo3^s passed when 
 they entered the school. This, some people thought, 
 was ' one in the eye for old Boyd,' but Mr. Boyd had 
 every reason to think that it was the greatest compli- 
 ment that could be paid to him. For years he had 
 been groaning over the fact that the young scholars 
 of Granby should fall at once into the hands of a 
 master whose methods seemed especially designed to 
 kill intellectual interest and ambition. 
 
 As the term went on Granby watched Mr. Chal- 
 loner very closely, and was greatly puzzled by him. 
 Joe and Ormsby frankly approved of his face, but 
 could not make out ' what the chap was up to.* 
 
 * He seems friendly enough, but he's either got a 
 precious deep game on, or he's a slacker. The Sixth 
 say he never rags them, and sometimes he'll talk to 
 them for nearly the whole hour about all sorts of queer 
 things,' Ormsby said. 
 
 ' We've been here five weeks, and he's only preached 
 on one Sunday ; but when you meet him he doesn't 
 rush by like the Man, and sort of look at you as if you 
 were a beastly nuisance,' Joe responded. 
 
 ' He's got about an acre of forehead ; there must 
 be something behind it,' Ormsby said. 
 
 ' I'll bet he's all right ; he's just keeping his eyes 
 open and his mouth shut. I'm for him,' Joe de- 
 clared. 
 
 ' So am I — at least, I think I am. Anyhow, it's 
 only fair to give the chap a chance. What the blazes 
 are you laughing at ? ' 
 
 ' I like the way you seem to think you can run the 
 
MARKING TIME 405 
 
 whole show,' Joe said ; and this answer annoyed 
 Ormsby. 
 
 * We could run a jolly lot more of it than we do, if 
 only you would stick your back into it. You simply 
 mess up your evenings doing nothing — reading drivel 
 and that sort of thing — and you won't try a yard to 
 get into the Fifteen,' he said. 
 
 ' You know I'm. not worth it,' Joe said. 
 
 * I know I want you to play with me, and I ought to 
 count for something,' Ormsby returned, and stalked 
 angrily out of the room. 
 
 For several minutes Joe stood and looked out of 
 his window. In the last few weeks Ormsby had changed 
 mightily ; or if he had not really changed, he seemed 
 to be travelling at such a pace that Joe neither could 
 nor was anxious to keep up with him. Boys like 
 Street and Harper, who had developed into nothing 
 except amiable nonentities, were no longer noticed by 
 Ormsby. * I've got no use for that sort of fellow,' 
 he had told Joe ; but the latter remembered that they 
 had all been friends at one time, and did not mean 
 to forget it. Arkwright, however, was the boy who 
 aroused Ormsby's active contempt, and if he only 
 had neglected the Infant as he neglected Street, Joe 
 would not have been so worried. But there was no 
 disguising the fact that Ormsby was becoming the 
 plague of Arkwright 's life. He never physically 
 bullied him, but he took a malicious delight in ridi- 
 culing him on every possible occasion, 
 
 * It does him good,' he replied in answer to Joe's 
 expostulations. ' He's full of new whines every 
 day, and he'd burst unless I gave him some- 
 thing to whine about. I'll make a man of him in 
 time.' 
 
 * You are more likely to make him a lunatic. I'd 
 rather gibe at a sick parrot,' Joe told him. 
 
4o6 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 ' What would this house be like with about forty 
 Arkwrights in it ? ' 
 
 ' Forty of any of us would be rotten enough, but 
 forty Infants would be too gloomy for anything/ 
 
 ' That's just it ; Tm trying to cheer him up/ Ormsby 
 said. 
 
 * Then you are jolly well not succeeding/ Joe re- 
 torted. ' He comes here and almost blubs/ 
 
 ' ril soon stop that/ Ormsby had said, and had 
 taken it for granted that as far as Joe was concerned 
 the question of Arkwright was settled. 
 
 Ormsby's increasing sense of self-importance and 
 desire to plague Arkwright were not, however, the only 
 things that made Joe anxious about him. At all 
 hours of the day he seemed as if he must live on ex- 
 citement of some kind, and when there was nothing 
 else for him to do he went either to Piper's or .Crake's 
 room and treated them as his familiar friends. If 
 he liked to make friends with such fellows, Joe was 
 not going to say anything ; but Piper and Crake were 
 nevertheless beginning to build up a set in the house 
 that was already no good to anybody, and was likely 
 to become worse than it was. Still, if Temperley 
 did not mind, it was no business, Joe thought, of his ; 
 in fact, he had been so univ-ersally popular for such a 
 long time, that the idea of making himself an annoy- 
 ance to anyone was thoroughly distasteful. He wanted 
 to manage his own affairs, and to leave other fellows 
 to manage theirs ; but he had not been chosen a 
 school-prefect for the purpose of carrying out such a 
 quiet programme as this, and the day was rapidly 
 approaching when his duties and his inclinations were 
 to come into conflict. 
 
 Joe, having come to the conclusion that was most 
 natural to him and most convenient, turned away 
 from the window and picked up a book. He had been 
 
MARKING TIME 407 
 
 making, he decided, a mountain out of a molehill. 
 Ormsby was right enough really — the best friend any 
 fellow could want to have. He would soon be tired of 
 baiting Arkwright, and of being friends with Piper. 
 Anyhow, it was no use worrying, and as it was Satur- 
 day night, and what preparation he had got to do 
 could easily be put 0IK, he sat down to read. The 
 book he had picked up was ' The Selected Poems of 
 T. E. Brown,' and, opening it at random, his eyes 
 fell upon * Clifton ' : 
 
 ' I'm here at Clifton, grinding at the mill 
 
 My feet for thrice nine barren years have trod ; 
 But there are rocks and waves at Scarlett still. 
 And gorse runs riot in Glen Chass — thank God. 
 
 * * * * * * 
 
 * There is no silence here : the truculent quack 
 
 Insists with acrid shrieks my ears to prod, 
 
 And, if I stop them, fumes ; but there's no lack 
 
 Of silence still on Carraghyn — thank God ! 
 
 * * * * * ♦ 
 
 * Pragmatic fibs surround my soul, and bate it 
 
 With measured phrase, that asks the assenting nod ; 
 I rise, and say the bitter thing, and hate it — 
 But Wordsworth's Castle's still at Peel— thank God ! ' 
 
 * " There is no silence here/' ' Joe repeated, and 
 read the poem once more. 
 
 Then he shut the book with a thud, and, jumping 
 from his chair, he walked back to the window. 
 
 ' I've got the pip, or something ; I'll turf that book 
 out of my room,' he muttered. 
 
 Directly afterwards he was leaning out of his win- 
 dow, and staring into the night. 
 
 ' That man knows too much,' he said to himself. 
 ' He knows all about it ; he's made me feel absolutely 
 rotten.' 
 
 ' " Truculent quack "—we simply quack all day. 
 There's no time for anything ; we just waddle round, 
 thinking we're prize bloods.' 
 
4o8 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 He stayed at the window until at last he shivered 
 from head to feet, and at the same time felt thoroughly 
 ashamed of himself. ' I'm grousing/ he said. ' Orms- 
 by would have had a fit if he'd caught me at it/ 
 
 But, try as he would, he could neither settle down to 
 work nor to enjoy himself. In a flash T. E. Brown's 
 verses had brought home to him the emptiness of the 
 life he was leading, but he did not mean to acknow- 
 ledge this without a struggle. Compared with other 
 fellows of his age he was high enough in the school, 
 and if he had just been pushed up from class to class 
 merely because most fellows had been slacker than he 
 was, he had stiU been pushed up. But, all the same, 
 something seemed to be lacking ; he had known the 
 lack of it for months, but until this evening he had 
 never been so certain of it. 
 
 * * -je- * * -jt 
 
 When he awoke on the following morning, he had 
 such a violent headache that he had to stay in bed. 
 
 ' You have got influenza, Joe,' Mrs. Max said, when 
 she went to see him. * You must be moved to the 
 sick-room.' 
 
 * So that's what's the matter with me,' he replied, 
 and suddenly looked more cheerful. 
 
 ' Did you feel ill last night ? ' she asked. 
 
 ' Yes — at least, sort of ill. I'm glad it's influenza.' 
 
 ' It seems a funny thing to be glad about ; but you 
 will soon be quite well again,' Mrs. Max said. 
 
 ' Rather, I feel better already. Doesn't influenza 
 always make everyone feel horrible when it's coming 
 on?' 
 
 ' I have never had it, but I believe it does,' Mrs. 
 Max said ; and Joe thought that his mood of the night 
 before was quite satisfactorily explained. 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 TAKING CHARGE 
 
 * If Joe,' Mrs. Max said, ' is kept away from school 
 much longer, I beheve he will break the only rule of 
 the sick-room that he hasn't broken already.' 
 
 * Has he been very troublesome ? ' Mrs. Rumbold, 
 who had driven over from Maiden Croft, asked. 
 
 ' Not exactly troublesome, but he is what he calls 
 " fed up." ' 
 
 ' He told me that he feels perfectly well, and that 
 Dr. Franklin won't let him out, and won't say what is 
 the matter with him.' 
 
 ' Joe has been growing fast, and the doctor thinks 
 that he has been rather overdoing it altogether.' 
 
 Mrs. Rumbold smiled. ' Has he been overworking ? ' 
 she asked. 
 
 * That is not the usual Granby complaint, though 
 I should not dare to say so to anyone except you,' Mrs. 
 Max replied. 
 
 ' Shall I take him home for a day or two ? ' 
 
 ' Does he want to go ? ' 
 
 ' No ; he says he wants to go back to school at 
 once.' 
 
 ' Then I think I would leave him here. He had a 
 bad time last night because Ormsby got his school 
 football colours, and he was not in the hall to cheer 
 him,' Mrs. Max said. 
 
 409 
 
410 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 Now that Ormsby had been mentioned, there were 
 several questions Mrs. Rumbold wanted to ask about 
 the friendship between Joe and him, and so she con- 
 sidered Max's sudden entrance into the drawing- 
 room to be particularly inopportune. 
 
 ' YouVe seen Joe, Mrs. Rumbold ? There isn't 
 much the matter with him, is there ? IVe been 
 telling Dr. Franklin that he is an old woman.' 
 
 For a few moments the conversation hovered round 
 the state of Joe's health, but Max was in his most 
 impatient mood, and fidgeted round and across the 
 room until Mrs. Max at last begged him to sit 
 down. 
 
 ' The fact of the matter is, I can think of nothing 
 except what our new Head has just said to me. I 
 walked down from school with him, and can't forget 
 the rubbish he talked. I was rather disposed ' 
 
 ' What did he say ? ' Mrs. Max interrupted. 
 
 ' You really mustn't mind if I tell you, Mrs. Rum- 
 bold, because, of course, the man is mad.' 
 
 * He seemed sane enough when we dined with him,' 
 Mrs. Max remarked quietly. 
 
 * All the same he is mad, and I'm glad to know it. 
 Such utter rubbish anji ignorance is positively dis- 
 gusting.' 
 
 * Do sit down and tell us what the rubbish is,' Mrs. 
 Max said. 
 
 ' I met him,' Max continued, as he flung himself 
 into a chair, * just outside the school-gates, and he 
 began at once. " I am glad to see you still have a 
 boy called Rumbold in your house. What is the matter 
 with him ? " So I told him that Joe was really as 
 fit as anything, only Dr. Franklin was scared to death 
 if a boy sneezed ; and then I talked about your sons, 
 Mrs. Rumbold, and what they had done for my house 
 and for the school.' 
 
TAKING CHARGE 411 
 
 * That was very kind of you/ Mrs. Rumbold told him. 
 ' But what do you think he said ? ' Max asked, 
 
 and jerked himself forward in his chair. 
 ' I can't imagine/ Mrs. Rumbold replied. 
 
 * If you can believe me, he wiped your sons off the 
 face of the earth in a sentence. '* Oh, the Rumbolds ; 
 they are very fine athletes, aren*t they ? But I wasn't 
 thinking of them, but of that most brilliant man, Wil- 
 liam Rumbold.'' Those are his actual words, and I 
 have never been compelled to listen to greater rub- 
 bish. William Rumbold '—Max's voice reached its 
 highest pitch ot indignation — ' who attacked all of us 
 as if we were a lot of impostors ! If half the things 
 he said of us were true, nearly every schoolmaster in 
 England ought to be in prison for taking money under 
 false pretences.' 
 
 It was most unfortunate, Mrs. Max thought, that 
 William Rumbold should have suddenly cropped up 
 again when Joe's mother was present, but not in any 
 way did she betray her feelings. 
 
 ' There have always,' she said very quietly, ' been 
 two opinions about those articles/ 
 
 * To my mind they were thoroughly traitorous and 
 untrue, and I told the Head so,' Max retorted. 
 
 ' And what did he say ? ' Mrs. Rumbold asked. 
 
 ' He thinks— or pretends to think — that the object 
 of theni was to save public schools from ruin, and that 
 William Rumbold is the best friend we have ever had. 
 And he went on to tell me that William is the most 
 brilliant journalist of the day — '' a man of very far- 
 reaching aims indeed, and with tremendous abilities 
 to help him to carry them out " — that's what our 
 Head thinks of William.' 
 
 ' At any rate, his opinion is not exceptional. It 
 is quite a common thing to hear that William is one of 
 the rising men of the day/ Mrs. Rumbold said* 
 
412 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 ' That I cannot believe/ Max replied. ' I am sorry 
 to say such things about any connection of yours, 
 Mrs. Rumbold, but I am convinced that those articles 
 were written merely to create a sensation.' 
 
 ' Oh, bother the articles,' Mrs. Max exclaimed, 
 ' they are years old, and forgotten by most of us, 
 and what is the good of thinking about them any 
 more ? ' 
 
 ' Just this good, that now the Head has expressed 
 his approval of them, we know where we are, and had 
 better look out for trouble. Granby is going to be 
 spring-cleaned from top to bottom, and you and I, 
 my dear, will soon be living on a pension.' 
 
 ' Then,' Mrs. Max remarked, ' I shall ask Mr. 
 William Rumbold to stay with us, for he will have 
 saved me from a hundred and one daily annoy- 
 ances.' 
 
 ' What have you got to be anno3^ed about ? ' Max 
 asked her. 
 
 ' You first and foremost, of course,' she replied, 
 and smiled at him. 
 
 ' That, Mrs. Rumbold, is the way I am treated in 
 private, but I beg you to keep it a secret from Joe,' 
 Max said ; but as he took her to her carriage the spirit 
 of prophecy once more took possession of him, and 
 he would have been intensely astonished had he 
 known that his visitor was hoping that most of his 
 prophecies would come true. 
 
 In expressing his opinion of William Rumbold to 
 Max, the Head had not by any means spoken on the 
 spur of the moment. Slowly he had been realizing 
 the condition of the school, and had been thinking 
 over the changes that would have to be made ; and 
 he had summed up Max correctly as a man who 
 would soon spread abroad any information that was 
 given to him. He knew that there was a tremendous 
 
TAKING CHARGE 413 
 
 fight in front of him, but, far from being dismayed 
 by the prospect of it, he chafed a Httle over the 
 necessity of obtaining inside knowledge and of 
 making very definite plans before he hoisted his 
 signals. 
 
 That Max would be his chief opponent the Head 
 knew full well, and he considered himself lucky to 
 have a man as leader against him who would fight 
 with his cards laid bare on the table. It was, he 
 believed, going to be a straight fight, even if it was 
 also bound to be a fierce one. 
 
 Granby, as he had found it, stood for athletic 
 efficiency, but for nothing else in the wide world, 
 and that had vigorously to be altered if the school 
 was to justify its existence. The Head looked through 
 the school lists, and saw that no Granbeian had won 
 a Balliol Scholarship for sixteen years, and that dur- 
 ing the last eight years no boy had even tried for one. 
 He traced the careers of boys who had entered 
 Granby as scholars, and was literally astounded by 
 the results of his search. 
 
 It had really almost come to this, he thought : 
 that scarcely any boys, except the sons of O.G.'s, 
 were at present sent to Granby unless they were 
 either so stupid that their parents feared that they 
 would be superannuated from other schools, or so 
 rich that an education in games was considered to 
 be more desirable than any other. 
 
 But for several weeks the Head pondered over the 
 difficulties confronting him, and made no sign that 
 he considered the state of Granby to be far worse 
 than he had ever anticipated. And then, on the 
 Sunday morning on which Joe was allowed to go 
 back to school, he preached a sermon that set every 
 master and every boy talking. 
 
 ' A problem,' he said in the course of his address. 
 
414 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 ' lies before us, and that problem is the future of 
 the school to which all of us belong. How are we 
 going to solve it ? It is impossible, I most firmly 
 believe, that any solution can be a happy one unless 
 every boy in Granby puts his shoulder most unselfishly 
 to the wheel. I want your help so that I, in turn, 
 may be able to help you. I want you to think, for 
 every boy can think, though I dare say many of you 
 will not believe me when I say so. If it has never 
 occurred to you to think, take my advice and begin 
 at once, and you will be surprised how interesting 
 you will find it. I want you to think of yourselves 
 in relation to this school and to the wider world be- 
 yond it, more especially to the latter. I want you 
 to court responsibility, and not to shirk it. I want 
 the very youngest of you to feel that you are a most 
 essential piece in a great puzzle, and that unless you 
 see to yourself and give of your best, the puzzle can 
 never be perfectly put together. 
 
 * " This above all, to thine own self be true, 
 And it must follow, as the night the day, 
 Thou canst not then be false to any man.'* * 
 
 * * * ^ ^ * 
 
 ' The Line ' on this Sunday welcomed Joe with 
 the greatest cordiality, and roundly accused him of 
 shamming. 
 
 ' You will have to tackle the doctor about that. 
 I wanted to come back all the time,' he replied. 
 
 But when ' The Line ' was formed, Joe's illness 
 was forgotten, and the Head's sermon was freely 
 discussed. 
 
 ' Fancy the Head working an old zigzag puzzle 
 into a sermon I The Man would simply have had 
 a fit,' Ormsby said. 
 
 * It's the first sermon I have listened to bang through 
 
TAKIJSfG CHARGE 415 
 
 since I've been here/ Stirling, the Captain of the 
 Fifteen, remarked. 
 
 ' He seemed to me to want a precious lot/ Temperley 
 said. 
 
 ' I should think it made some of the beaks sit up. 
 I saw Max hanging on to his chin as if he was afraid 
 it was going to fall off/ a Bonhamite, called Kennedy, 
 declared. 
 
 ' Why- should it make the beaks sit up ? ' Battersby 
 asked. 
 
 ' Well, when the head-beak goes down on his hands 
 and knees and asks the smallest kid in the place to 
 help him, it looks to me as if he thinks we are in a 
 precious poor way,' Kennedy answered. 
 
 ' He's going to change things ; you see if he doesn't,' 
 Ormsby said. 
 
 ' Yes,' Kennedy replied ; ' but he may not make 
 things any better for fellows like Battersby and me, 
 who are in the Jungle and want to stay there for a 
 few more terms.' 
 
 What might be called the religious side of the 
 Head's sermon was not mentioned, and indeed had 
 anyone been daring enough to refer to it, he would 
 promptly have been considered guilty of bad form. 
 ' The Line ' never laughed at religion, but it tacitly 
 and utterly tabooed any reference to it. 
 
 When, however, Joe and Ormsby were out for a 
 walk together in the afternoon, the former returned 
 to the subject of the Head's sermon. 
 
 * What did you really think of it ? ' he asked. 
 
 * Oh, I don't know,' Ormsby answered. ' It was 
 aU right as far as sermons go. It was onl}^ just over 
 twenty minutes, and the Man never stopped short 
 of half an hour.' 
 
 ' I could have listened for ages,' Joe said, and 
 Ormsby whistled. 
 
4i6 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 ' I don't wonder after being cooped up in that 
 blessed sicker. I should think for a change you'd 
 be glad to hear anyone talk. Not that the Head 
 can't talk well ; he never goes about floundering for 
 a word, sort of hooking it and then not landing it, 
 like that old Archdeacon we had last Sunday.' 
 
 ' It was all different somehow,' Joe said. 
 
 ' How ? ' 
 
 ' I don't quite know, but it seemed to me really 
 to mean something.' 
 
 * I'd like all the other men who have preached 
 to us to hear you say that. We should be getting 
 a bit of our own back.' Ormsby declared. 
 
 ' Didn't it strike you like that ? ' 
 
 ' I don't know that it did. The Head's got a 
 tough job in front of him, and of course he has got 
 to stir us up to try to get us on his side. That's 
 what he's here for.' 
 
 ' That's rather a vile way of looking at it,' Joe 
 replied. 
 
 ' Anyhow, I'm not going to jump at the first bait 
 the Head holds out. I believe you are reaUy crammed 
 full of sentiment, Joe, and as soon as a man comes 
 along with a decent face, and jaws at you, he has 
 simply got you sitting.' 
 
 ' For years you have been going at me because 
 I'm not sentimental enough, and then you suddenly 
 swop round. I should think I am about as senti- 
 mental as a camel.' 
 
 ' And,' Ormsby said, ' you also seem to have the 
 camel's hump.' 
 
 ' Not a bit of it ; I never felt less humpy,' Joe 
 returned. 
 
 ' Then I can't make out why you should want to 
 talk about a sermon. I say, Joe,' Ormsby continued, 
 ' you aren't going to turn " pi," are you ? ' 
 
TAKING CHARGE 417 
 
 ( (t 
 
 Pi '' ? Why should I turn " pi " ? ' 
 ' Oh, I don't know. Fellows do turn "pi/ 
 
 * We've never been either one thing or the other/ 
 Joe said. 
 
 ' You've always been more the one, and I've been 
 more the other,' Ormsby rephed. 
 
 ' That's bosh. We've always done the same 
 things and been in for the same kind of rows, and I 
 vote we stick to it.' 
 
 Ormsby propped himself up against a gate, and 
 looked over the valley in which Joe and Cole had 
 settled their fight. 
 
 ' There's the blooming field, Joe. Do you re- 
 member ? ' 
 
 ' I'm not likely to forget. If it hadn't been such 
 a sticky wicket Cole would have punched my head 
 olf.' 
 
 ' That sort of cleared the air. Everything has 
 been much better since then.' 
 
 ' Rather,' Joe agreed. 
 
 ' That was your row, and I saw you through it. 
 If I had one on my own hook, would you see me 
 through it ? ' 
 
 ' What sort of row ? ' 
 
 * You know,' Ormsby replied. 
 
 * I'd much rather you chucked the whole thing. 
 What's the good of playing caids with fellows like 
 Piper and Crake, and what's the use of betting ? ' 
 he asked. 
 
 ' It's something to do. I wanted something to 
 do while you were cooped up in the sicker.' 
 
 * Weren't you doing it before ? ' Joe inquired, and 
 Ormsby laughed. 
 
 ' You don't exactly let a fellow off easily,' he said. 
 
 * I'm not doing anything except asking you to 
 stop,' Joe retorted. 
 
 14 
 
4i8 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 ' It isn't so easy to stop ; I'm a bom gambler. 
 I won thirty-seven bob on Bushranger last week/ 
 
 * Then hang on to it, or I'll bet Piper will clear 
 you out of every red cent you've got. Piper's made 
 like that, he's as cool as a codfish, you haven't got a 
 chance with him.' 
 
 * Oh, haven't I ! ' Ormsby exclaimed. * We'll 
 soon see about that.' And Joe realized at once that 
 he had made a great mistake. 
 
 To teU Ormsby that he was bound to lose was the 
 surest way of making him continue to play, and Joe 
 could have cordially kicked himself for making such 
 a foolish remark. 
 
 ' I wish to goodness you'd chuck it, all the same,' 
 he said. 
 
 ' I'll chuck it in a week, I will really,' Ormsby 
 declared. 
 
 And with that promise Joe had to be content. 
 Not a word about the immorality of a school-prefect 
 playing cards and betting passed between them, 
 though neither of them were without prickings of 
 conscience about it. Ormsby, however, had suc- 
 ceeded in persuading himself that to play cards 
 was not a bad offence as long as you could pay when 
 you lost, and Joe considered that it was Temperley's 
 duty — if it was anyone's — to put a stop to the meet- 
 ings in Piper's room. 
 
 ' I guessed before you went into the sicker that 
 you knew what I was doing. But how did you find 
 out ? ' Ormsby asked, when they were walking back 
 to Granby. 
 
 ' What does it matter ? ' Joe replied. 
 
 * I know ; I'll bet I know. Sherwood told you.' 
 And Joe walked on without speaking. 
 
 ' What business of his was it to go sneaking to you, 
 when he only happened to find it out by an a,cci- 
 
TAKING CHARGE 419 
 
 dent ? Most fellows would have the decency not 
 to go telling everybody what they were never meant 
 to know, ril tell him to jolly well keep his mouth 
 shut/ Ormsby continued. 
 
 ' Then you will be wasting time, for IVe told him 
 that already/ Joe replieo 
 
 ' He's always hanging on to your coat-tails and 
 sitting on your chest.' 
 
 ' It's no use getting in a bait. He wouldn't have 
 told me unless he had thought I knew already. At 
 least/ Joe added, ' he said he wouldn't.' 
 
 ' Why should he think you knew already ? ' 
 
 ' I can't see how he could think anything else ; 
 but what he thinks doesn't make a rap of difference.' 
 
 Ormsby thought over this for a few seconds, and 
 then decided to be content with it. * You are a 
 melancholy old bird to-day, Joe, and want cheering 
 up all round. You will probably get it to-morrow, 
 for Erskine was away on Friday and Saturday, and 
 if we get one of those temporary fellows to take us 
 I mean to have a rag/ he said, and insisted that Joe 
 should come to his room for tea. 
 
 On the following morning the Lower Sixth found 
 that a * temporary fellow ' was in charge of the class, 
 and proceeded at once to worry him. Substitutes 
 at Granby were considered to be fair game, and as in 
 Dr. Manning's time they had been pitchforked into 
 their work and left to make the best of it, their lot 
 could not be said to have been exactly a happy one. 
 Some of them had managed to enforce more discipline 
 than others, but all of them had suffered from lack 
 of support, and had left Granby without any desire 
 to return to it. 
 
 Mr. Allen, who had come to take Mr. Erskine's 
 place, was a young and enthusiastic man who liked 
 boys and thought that he could control them ; but 
 
420 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 he had never before been brought into contact with 
 a large class of big boys. Moreover, it had not previ- 
 ously occurred to him that he could be ragged, and 
 his first experience of the Lower Sixth was — as Ormsby 
 declared after the day was over — ' a regular eye- 
 opener for him/ 
 
 Ormsby himself had set the ball rolling by ad- 
 dressing Mr. Allen as ' Teacher,' and after that the 
 class took up the game and played it for more than 
 it was worth. Pandemonium practically reigned 
 throughout the Monday and Tuesday, for although 
 several boys thought secretly that it was * a bit 
 rough on a decent-looking beak,' they did not at- 
 tempt to stop the ragging. But by the Wednesday 
 Mr. Allen had begun slowly to win his way ; the first 
 hour passed in comparative calm, and when the 
 class came up to translate some Euripides, which 
 they were supposed to have prepared, they took 
 their places without the noise that had prevailed 
 during the previous days. And this was more good 
 fortune than they deserved, for just as they had 
 settled down the Head came into the room, and asked 
 Mr. Allen to change places with him for an hour. 
 
 ' We are fairly bottled,' Ormsby whispered to Joe. 
 * I haven't even opened the book. Where do we 
 begin ? ' 
 
 Joe knew where the lesson began, but very little 
 else about it. 
 
 The Head looked down the list of names, and then 
 called Ormsby's. The class bent their heads stead- 
 fastly over their books and prepared themselves 
 for trouble. In ten minutes, however, the Head had 
 abandoned Euripides, and had sent the class back 
 to their desks to do Latin Prose. Six boys, including 
 Joe, had tried to stumble through a lesson that they 
 ought to have prepared, and their failure had been 
 
TAKING CHARGE 421 
 
 abject. But apart from rather contemptuously cut- 
 ting short the blundering efforts of each boy, the 
 Head had not expressed any opinion either of them 
 or of their performances. 
 
 That something was going to happen the class 
 felt certain, but what it was they had no time to ' 
 think. The Head had given them a stiff piece of 
 prose, and had told them that they were to show it 
 up to him five minutes before the hour. And then, 
 during the remaining five minutes, he assembled the, 
 class before his desk, and told them plainly what he 
 thought of their conduct during the last two days. 
 
 ' You may have wondered,' he said, ' why I have 
 not come to this class-room to stop the noise. The 
 reason was that I wished to give you a chance to 
 behave yourselves. Your conduct has been a dis- 
 grace to the school, for you have insulted a stranger 
 who came here at a moment's notice to do his best 
 for you and for me. I am most heartily ashamed of 
 the whole class, but the five of you who are school- 
 prefects are most especially to blame. The privi- 
 leges that a school-prefect holds will be suspended 
 for a month as far as Beddington, Wood, Douglas, 
 Ormsby, and Rumbold are concerned. The rest of 
 you I shall merely bind over to behave yourselves 
 in future, but I warn you that I shall have no con- 
 fidence in you until you show yourselves worthy of 
 the position you have in the school, and that if I 
 have any more trouble the punishment will be as 
 severe as I can make it.' 
 
 Mr. Allen returned to a class extremely subdued 
 in mood. * Sheepish ' was scarcely the word for 
 their faces, and during the last hour of that morning 
 the silence in the Lower Sixth room was almost 
 dismal after the noise of the previous days. 
 
 ' I'm not going to be talked to as if I was a puling 
 
422 ^ BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 infant/ Ormsby said, when he and Joe were walking 
 back to the house. ' I shall tell Max all about it, 
 and ask him to go for the Head. Max won't stand 
 this sort of thing.' 
 
 And then Joe, to Ormsby's undisguised disgust, 
 began to chuckle. 
 
 * What the blazes are you grinning at ? You 
 always grin at perfectly rotten things,' he said. 
 
 ' I wonder Allen didn't burst himself with laugh- 
 ing,' Joe spluttered. 
 
 ' What was there to laugh at ? * 
 
 * Why, the change. I nearly came in two trying 
 not to laugh. Did you see Beddington's face ? It's 
 always rather like a horse's, but after the Head had 
 gone it looked longer and narrower than ever.' 
 
 ' I never felt less like laughing in my Hfe. The 
 Head is an absolute rotter,' Ormsby declared. 
 
 But Joe was saved from having to express his 
 opinion of the justice of his punishment by Temperley 
 meeting them. 
 
 ' I've done all I can, but Stirling won't change his 
 mind,' he said, and Ormsby stopped short in the road 
 and rephed that if Stirling had got a mind to change 
 he had got to change it. 
 
 ' He won't ; he's the most pig-headed captain of 
 footer we've ever had here,' Temperley told him. 
 
 ' What's old Stirhng been doing now ? He's a most 
 awfully good sort,' Joe said. 
 
 ' He's a fat-headed idiot ! ' Ormsby retorted, and 
 walked indignantly into the house. 
 
 ' Ormsby's got the pip ; he gets it fairly and squarely 
 when he does get it,' Temperley said, and Joe told 
 him what had happened during the morning. 
 
 ' That's a bit of a jar for both of you, and with 
 old Stirling turning rusty it is rather piling it on,' 
 Temperley declared. 
 
TAKING CHARGE 423 
 
 ' But what has StirUng been doing ? ' 
 
 ' Don't you know ? ' * • 
 
 Joe shook his head. 
 
 ' Why, Ormsby wants you to play against Bed- 
 Chester next Saturday, and said all sorts of things 
 to Stirling about it. And Stirling says Sherwood is 
 the best scrum-half in the place, and that he is going 
 to play next Saturday.' 
 
 * Sherwood is jolly good,' Joe remarked. * I wish 
 Ormsby wouldn't bother about me ; I'm not fit to 
 play against Bedchester after being in the sicker.' 
 
 ' Ormsby would rather have any scrum-half to 
 play with than Sherwood,' Temperley said. 
 
 ' But that's rot,' Joe replied at once, * for we get 
 another school colour if Sherwood gets into the 
 Fifteen.' 
 
 ' That's what I told Ormsby, but he wants you to 
 get in, and doesn't care a brass farthing what happens 
 if you don't.' 
 
 * ' He will have to be muzzled. I say, we can't 
 come to tea at Mother Bloomfield's to-night, we shall 
 have to be in before lock-up.' 
 
 ' You don't seem very sick about it,' Temperley 
 said. 
 
 ' It's only for a month,' Joe replied, and strolled 
 into the house. 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 THE RECOVERY 
 
 The Head's sermon was only the prelude to a great 
 campaign. By the end of his first year at Granby 
 everyone interested in the school knew not only 
 what his programme was, but also that he intended 
 to carry it out however vigorously he was opposed. 
 Of course he made mistakes, and knew that he made 
 them ; but there was not time, he considered, to 
 waste in apologies. And if his judgment erred more 
 than once, he, at any rate, succeeded in bringing about 
 many changes that even his fiercest opponents found 
 difficult to criticize. 
 
 From the very outset he proclaimed openly that 
 the most attentive teaching and watchful super- 
 vision are useless in public schools, as long as 
 the individual boy is not allowed opportunity and 
 room to develop. ' Curriculum ' was an abhorrent 
 word to him, for under the dictatorship of a curricu- 
 lum both a sense of independence and all originality 
 of thought were crushed. ' We have bred a type of 
 schoolboy,' he said, * and I think that he is a very 
 fine type indeed. But he is permanent. I firmly 
 believe that his good qualities, his generosity, his 
 sense of fair play, his bravery and healthiness, are 
 with us for all time, and that if we wished to root 
 them out we shguld be powerless to do so. We 
 
 424 
 
THE RECOVERY 425 
 
 have got him, and we have done well to get him, 
 but in getting him we have allowed him to set up 
 one ideal to the destruction of nearly every other 
 ideal, and that is the athletic one. What we have 
 got to do is to build on most excellent foundations, 
 to send our boys out with higher aims and ambi- 
 tions, to give them knowledge in the broadest sense 
 of the word, to let them think and to give them 
 opportunities for their individual capacities to 
 expand/ 
 
 ' It is all very fine,' Max remarked to his wife, ' for 
 the Head to talk what I believe the Americans call 
 " hot air,'' but how is he going to work ? If we are 
 to attend to the individualities of a few hundred boys 
 we shall want the same number of masters. I am 
 glad that I shan't be here to see the mess he will make 
 of things.' 
 
 The energies, however, of the Head were not con- 
 fined to talking. In his second term he introduced 
 sweeping changes in the organization of the school, 
 and astonished Max even more than he infuriated him. 
 
 The Jungle was abolished ; six boys in it were super- 
 annuated, and the remainder were absorbed into other 
 classes. The scheme of school work was at the same 
 time drastically changed, and boys in the upper forms 
 were encouraged to specialize. Each boy in the 
 Sixth was almost driven to admit that he had an 
 inclination for speciaHzation of some kind ; he was, 
 in short, invited to regard himself not as a receptacle 
 into which knowledge had to be poured in daily doses, 
 but as a reasoning being for whom some form of learn- 
 ing must have a strong attraction. The necessity of 
 paying more attention to modern languages was also 
 recognized, and a boy who specialized in history was 
 given twelve hours in the week to study French and 
 German. 
 
426 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 English literature formed a part, though not at 
 first a very prominent part, of the Head's scheme. 
 Below the upper classes of the school the boys found 
 that more opportunities were given them to learn 
 history and geography, and the elements, at least, of 
 science were taught to every boy in the lower forms. 
 
 That the Universities called the educational tune 
 that the public schools had to play, the Head knew and 
 regretted. But if it was impossible for him to get at 
 the very root of the educational difficulty, it was pos- 
 sible for him to try and avoid it. By some means 
 or other intellectual interests had to be stimulated 
 instead of being strangled, and if Granbeians were 
 ever to have their sense of responsibility widened they 
 would have to do more for themselves and have less 
 done for them. The rut into which Granby had fallen 
 was, the Head considered, a deep one, but it was only 
 a rut. 
 
 During these months the Head knew what it was to 
 suffer from every form of antagonism, and to discover 
 that the bludgeon as a weapon of assault was far pre- 
 ferable to the pin. No sooner had he entered the 
 arena than Max and the men of his type attacked with 
 vigour. They criticized his methods, warned him of 
 the danger of sweeping changes, begged and even 
 bullied him to remember that he was on almost sacred 
 ground, and that everything he had found at Granby 
 was hallowed by tradition. 
 
 But whatever Max said was, if possible, said to the 
 Head himself. Like a gentleman, he fought face to 
 face and spurned all intrigues. And as the fight went 
 on he found gradually that he was enjoying a tussle 
 with an opponent after his own heart ; and when 
 that had been acknowledged he soon began to Uke the 
 Head himself. 
 
 The struggle with Max and his party was sharp, 
 
THE RECOVERY '427 
 
 but it was not long, and it left no bitterness behind it. 
 That the Head won it so quickly was due in part, at 
 any rate, to the fact that his antagonists had taken 
 it for granted that their loyalty to Granby was in- 
 finitely greater than his. But when they discovered 
 that they were dealing with a man who treated Granby 
 as if it was a human being, and who was ready to toil 
 half the night on behalf of it, the chief weapon in their 
 armoury was taken away from them. The Head 
 ceased to be regarded as a new broom with an excessive 
 desire to sweep merely for the love of sweeping, and 
 began to be looked upon as a man who, however mis- 
 guided he might be, was genuinely trying to do his 
 best for Granby. 
 
 With such a man there were only two things for Max 
 and his friends to do : either they must resign and 
 leave the Head a free hand, or they must stay and be 
 loyal to him. As * sportsmen,' they could not re- 
 main where they were and plot against him ; and as 
 none of them really wanted to leave Granby, they 
 fought their fight, and, having been beaten, they 
 threw up the sponge with a grace that did credit to 
 the discipline they had learned as athletes. 
 
 A hole-and-corner party, however, remained and 
 pin-pricked the Head on every possible occasion. 
 Under Dr. Manning each master had been a law unto 
 himself, he had never been interfered with, and he 
 could be as inert as he liked without being even in 
 danger of a rebuke or a warning. To men of this torpid 
 type Mr. Challoner was as unpalatable as an inquisi- 
 tive hornet. He buzzed around their ears, and if he 
 did not move their energies into the right direction, 
 he at any rate succeeded in arousing anger instead 
 of lethargy. With these men the Head did not pro- 
 fess to have much patience ; they had either to arouse 
 themselves and do as he wished or they had to go ; 
 
428' A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 and most of them went, but not before they had shown 
 their resentment in being suddenly deprived of most 
 comfortable positions. 
 
 Often, indeed, during the beginning of his rule at 
 Granby did the Head feel that the mountains of 
 difficulty in front of him would never be removed, 
 for he was not old or experienced enough to know that 
 such a work as he had set out to do must take years 
 before the results of it could be fully seen. 
 
 Encouragements, however, came to him, and the 
 greatest of them was that before his second term was 
 completed the School Debating Society, which had 
 been in a fading and almost moribund state, was a 
 flourishing institution. 
 
 Recognizing that it was impossible to revive this 
 society unless he was supported by the popular boys 
 of the school, he summoned a carefully chosen band of 
 bloods to his house, and told them both what he 
 wanted them to do and why he wanted them to do it. 
 
 Ormsby and Joe were among the boys who attended 
 this meeting, and what the Head told them reminded 
 Joe forcibly of what Mr. Boyd had said on that Sunday 
 morning years before. As he listened to the Head, 
 Mr. Boyd's advice came back to him ; but if the actual 
 words were very much the same, the difference be- 
 tween the men who spoke them was tremendous. 
 Mr. Boyd had seemed to Joe to call for an effort not 
 because it could be successful, but because it was a 
 sin not to make it. He was a ' decent old boy,' Joe 
 had thought, but even when he was intensely in earnest 
 he had not the power to be inspiring. But the Head 
 infected you at once with his own enthusiasm and 
 determination ; it had been nice enough to listen to 
 Mr. Boyd and very soothing, but to hear the Head 
 talking was so stimulating that it was actually per- 
 turbing. 
 
THE RECOVERY 429 
 
 Not for a moment had he attempted to minimize 
 the importance of games, but he pleaded with the bloods 
 to allow some other interests to come into their lives. 
 ' Not, if you like,* he had said, ' as a substitute, but 
 as an addition to your other interests. You have got 
 to go out into a world which is not restricted by bounds 
 and boundaries, and you have got to think about 
 some of the duties that face you when you get there. 
 Believe me, debates are not dull unless you want to 
 make them so ; I want to see the first two hundred 
 of the school discussing leading questions in the Big 
 Classical once every week, and I want the junior boys 
 in the houses to have their own debating societies in 
 which they will not be too nervous to speak. I ask 
 you to help me in carrying out this idea, and I promise 
 you that every effort shall be made to make the de- 
 bates amusing without making them frivolous.' 
 
 * I should never dare to say a single word,' Ormsby 
 had declared to Joe when they had left the meet- 
 ing. 
 
 ' It will be rather different from the Pow-Wow, 
 where everyone rots from beginning to end,' Joe had 
 admitted. 
 
 But Max unexpectedly gave his support to this 
 part of the Head's scheme, and Ormsby screwed up 
 courage enough to speak at the first meeting held by 
 the Debating Society in the Big Classical. Joe, how- 
 ever, never got further for three weeks than a small 
 twitching in his legs. To himself he delivered fierce 
 orations about * Conscription,' * Home Rule,' and 
 ' Imperial Federation,' but when the time came to 
 deliver them he was smitten with a paralyzing desire 
 to remain in his seat. In a sense he enjoyed those 
 debates, but at the same time he suffered mental 
 tortures during them. For on each occasion he had 
 made up his mind to speak, and then had left the 
 
430 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 Classical without having said anything except ' Hear, 
 hear/ 
 
 At the beginning of the Head's second term both 
 Ormsby and Joe had been promoted to the Upper 
 Sixth, and the latter's proses had on two occasions 
 been received with a special word of praise. There 
 was no longer any chance to do what they called 
 * a real old slack,' but although Ormsby grumbled fre- 
 quently, he was in reality enjoying the experience 
 of being * up ' to a man who simply made him work 
 whether he wanted to or not. In the first weekly 
 orders he had been invariably above Joe, for Joe still 
 occupied some of his time for preparation in pursuits 
 that Ormsby described as * mad/ and which certainly 
 prevented him from being a successful collector of 
 marks. For the time being Ormsby was a zealous 
 worker, while Joe only worked hard at the subjects 
 that interested him ; the rest he scamped as much as 
 possible, and turned aside to read books and reviews, 
 which Ormsby always threatened to throw out of the 
 window. 
 
 In spite of some fears that the Head would eventu- 
 ally ' jump ' upon him for sins of omission, Joe was 
 superlatively happy in these days. The fortunes of 
 the Rumbold business had taken a turn for the better, 
 and Mr. Rumbold had cast aside depression without 
 becoming so formidable a parent as he had previously 
 been. There was no disguising the fact that athleti- 
 cally Joe was a disappointment. * Not quite a hope- 
 less failure,' his father described him, * but a keen 
 source of regret.' But if Joe was not likely to add to 
 the glory of the family, he had at least won a few cups 
 for running and was not quite such a * hopeless duf- 
 fer ' (Bingo) as he had seemed likely to become. He 
 had in fact been accepted as a misfortune by his father 
 and brothers, though, owing to his good nature and 
 
THE RECOVERY 431 
 
 good spirits, only a minor one. Even Pads considered 
 that Joe's place in the family was settled, and Mrs. 
 Rumbold alone retained a hope that he would eventu- 
 ally, and in some unwonted manner, surprise Maiden 
 Croft. 
 
 But the way in which Joe was to bring about this 
 surprise had not become clearer to Mrs. Rumbold as 
 the terms had passed by. He had moved steadily 
 up the school, but his reports (if they were to be 
 trusted) had not encouraged her to think that he was 
 either very industrious or very clever. Average 
 intelligence he evidently possessed, but she was 
 troubled that he did not seem to possess the ambition 
 to be discontented with mediocrity. She had wished 
 ardently that Joe should be happy in his home, but as 
 soon as her wish had been granted she knew that what 
 she wanted for him was something more than mere 
 contentment and happiness. So she had looked 
 forward to the change of headmasters at Granby, 
 and hoped that Joe would be stimulated by it, but at 
 first his letters scarcely contained any references to 
 Mr. Challoner. When asked point-blank how he 
 liked the new Head, his reply was : * I dare say he 
 will be all right when we get used to him.' There was 
 not much satisfaction to be got from such an answer 
 as that, but such as there was Mrs. Rumbold had to 
 be content with it. 
 
 Later on, however, Joe spoke and wrote more freely 
 of the Head, and Mrs. Rumbold's hopes began rapidly 
 to brighten. The traditions of the Rumbolds were 
 against betraying enthusiasm for a master, even if 
 they happened to feel it, but Joe had never been en- 
 tirely subject to the traditions of his family. No 
 sooner had he passed into the Upper Sixth than his 
 letters ceased to be filled with acute and rather amus- 
 ing comments on current Granbeian events, and be- 
 
432 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 gan to contain very little that did not either directly 
 or indirectly refer to the Head. That Joe, who was 
 generally so loth to show his affections, should suddenly 
 cast off this cloak of reticence and proclaim his loyalty 
 to a master was a source of the profoundest joy to 
 Mrs. Rumbold. 
 
 Then, again, Ormsby's zeal for work was a real 
 happiness to Joe. Not for a single moment did he 
 regret that this zeal had placed Ormsby above him in 
 the weekly orders. Ormsby, he considered, was bound 
 to rise to the top of everything, if he would only give 
 himself a chance and not make annoying little dashes 
 towards destruction. No longer was Ormsby an 
 anxiety, ior in a half-comical, half-serious way he 
 had taken the new Head under his wing, and was 
 * running ' him for all he was worth. Sherwood, 
 Arkwright, and Piper were practically left alone and 
 forgotten, for Ormsby had fallen under the spell of 
 the new Head and had no time to spend in bullying or 
 gambling. 
 
 Granby, in Joe's opinion, was a most glorious place, 
 and the only tiny fly in his ointment was that he could 
 not screw up courage enough to face the large audi- 
 ence in the Big Classical. In his own language, ' It 
 seems so rotten to feel as if I had things to say and not 
 to have the pluck to say them.' He admired enor- 
 mously Ormsby's audacity in opening his mouth, 
 even if he could not save himself from secretly criti- 
 cizing the arguments that came out of it. 
 
 The Debating Society had, the Head saw, ' caught 
 on/ but all the same he was not entirely satisfied. 
 Unless something was done at once, he recognized 
 that the same boys would speak on every subject, and 
 that the silent ones would soon cease to listen. On 
 the morning after the discussion on ' Imperial Fed- 
 eration,' he told Joe to wait and speak to him ' at 
 
THE RECOVERY 433 
 
 twelve,' and Ormsby, overhearing this command, 
 asked Joe what was ' up/ 
 
 ' I don't know, except that Fve been slacking a bit 
 the last two or three days,' was the answer. 
 
 That anything except rebukes could come from an 
 interview with the Head never occurred to Joe. If 
 anyone had told him that he was one of the boys from 
 whom 'much was expected, he would merely have 
 grinned and disbelieved. He did not think that much 
 of a row was in front of him, but he did anticipate 
 trouble of some kind. 
 
 ' Just go to my room and wait. FU be there in 
 two or three minutes,' the Head told him, when the 
 Sixth had been dismissed from their class-room. 
 
 To find himself the sole occupant of the Head's 
 private room was such a strange experience that 
 Joe's first impulse was to laugh when he entered it. 
 Quite vehemently he wanted to sit in the Head's 
 chair, and to imagine that he was dispensing justice 
 to a row of culprits standing before him. To be 
 found in such a posture was not, however, altogether 
 prudent, especially as the outlook was already squally. 
 So he repressed his desire, and having looked care- 
 fully round the room, with a morbid curiosity to see 
 where the canes were kept, he wandered to the window, 
 and stayed there until a knock on the door interrupted 
 his meditation. 
 
 * Come in,' he replied at once, and a very chastened- 
 looking Piper entered. 
 
 ' Halloa ! ' Joe exclaimed. 
 
 * What on earth are you doing here ? ' Piper asked. 
 
 * I'm blowed if I know ; I'm waiting.' 
 
 * I've been caught cribbing by that beast Anderson.' 
 Joe whistled, and Piper held up a note. 
 
 * The beast,' he said, * has written this to the Head. 
 When is he coming ? ' 
 
434 A BAND OF BROTHERS / 
 
 ' Here he comes/ Joe whispered. 
 
 In less than a minute the Head had tossed the note 
 on to his table, and had told Piper to come to him at 
 five o'clock. * Now/ he added, as the door closed, 
 ' sit down, Rumbold. Why don't you speak at our 
 Debates ? ' 
 
 rr; A vivid blush at once spread over Joe's face, and 
 for the life of him he could not speak until he 'had re- 
 covered from this unexpected question. 
 
 * It is a very great pity,' the Head continued, ' for 
 reasons that I will tell you. Undoubtedly you could 
 be more valuable in the school if you would not re- 
 main so much in the background ; I have brought 
 you here to ask you to use the influence you have.' 
 
 There was no mistaking the genuineness of Joe's 
 amazement, and the Head smiled directly at him. 
 ' Take some time to think over that,' he said, * for I 
 have been thinking about it for some weeks.' 
 
 For a moment Joe looked as if he was on the point 
 ai speaking, and then the symptom passed away. 
 He was not nervous any longer, but he was so ex- 
 ceedingly embarrassed that his mind seemed to be 
 turning perpetual somersaults. 
 
 ' Modesty,' the Head continued, almost as if he was 
 speaking to himself, ' can be cultivated until it be- 
 comes something very like a crime.' 
 
 * I don't think I'm modest, sir,' Joe managed to 
 blurt out, and the Head looked at him with smiling 
 eyes. 
 
 ' If you were self-consciously modest I should not 
 be talking to you,' he said. ' But I think you will 
 agree with me that you are naturally more inclined 
 to foUow than to lead, and that possibly this desire 
 comes from not wanting the trouble of leading.' 
 
 Joe put his head sHghtly to one side and considered 
 this. 
 
THE RECOVERY 435 
 
 ' I think that's true, sir/ he replied. 
 .^Butisitright? ' 
 
 The question came at once, and Joe floundered in 
 answering it. 
 
 'I don't think Tm made to lead; I'm not that 
 kind of fellow. I know heaps of fellows who like 
 bossing things, but I don't, sir. Ill try to speak at 
 debates if it's any good ; but I'm hopeless at putting 
 my foot down. I sort of get cramp in the knee when- 
 ever I try,' he said. 
 
 ' That is almost precisely what I expected you to 
 say, though from the style of your essays I expected 
 that you would express it rather differently. But, 
 Rumbold,' the Head added, * you know that the plain 
 meaning of it all is that you are trying to avoid re- 
 sponsibilities.' 
 
 Joe nodded. There was no denying the truth of 
 this statement, but he did not feel at all inclined ver- 
 bally to corroborate it. 
 
 * Then again,' the Head continued, as if that matter 
 was settled, * I am going to ask you to work much 
 harder than you do at present. I don't want you to 
 cram, but anyone who has watched your work in class, 
 as I have, must know that you take a very liberal view 
 of how little need be done when the subject does not 
 interest you.' 
 
 For the first time Joe smiled back at Mr. Challoner. 
 To be * found out ' was honestly a delightful sensation, 
 for had not the Head made and announced this dis- 
 covery it would have been impossible to have be- 
 lieved completely in his sagacity. 
 
 ' I read all sorts of things ; I do waste time,' he 
 said. 
 
 ' I am not at all sure that you have wasted your 
 time, for your essays show that you have been reading 
 widely, and that you remember a great deal of what 
 
436 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 you have read. But I think you will now have to re- 
 strain yourself, and tackle with all your might the 
 work you are told to do/ 
 ' Yes, sir,' Joe agreed. 
 
 * It will be a big sacrifice,' the Head remarked. 
 ' Oh, I don't know, sir,' Joe mumbled. 
 
 * Don't make any mistake about that ; it will be. 
 Broadly, when a boy has been pleasing himself and 
 suddenly finds that he has to please others, the change 
 is bound to be difficult. But it is very diffiicult indeed 
 when the change means that he has to stop reading 
 books that he likes, and has to apply himself to sub- 
 jects that he considers dull. I am not speaking with- 
 out experience.' 
 
 * Then why did you change, sir ? ' Joe asked. 
 
 * Because I was marked down, as you are marked 
 down, to get a scholarship.' 
 
 Joe possessed the art of looking excessively as- 
 tonished, and he used it to perfection. 
 
 ' We won't cram you any more than can possibly 
 be helped, but a very wise man has said that 
 * Higher Education is, in England, what the Uni- 
 versities choose to make it,' and there you have one 
 of the difficulties of public-school masters in a sen- 
 tence. With your ability to write essays and proses 
 you have a big start. With a reasonable amount of 
 application to the subjects you do not care for, you 
 ought to get a Balliol scholarship next December. 
 Will you try hard, and come to me for encourage- 
 ment when you feel despondent about it ? ' 
 
 ' I'll try, and I'll come. I expect I shall be always 
 
 coming, for — for Well, sir, it seems to me rather 
 
 a large order.' 
 
 ' That's better, at any rate, than saying it is an 
 impossible one,' the Head said as he stood up. * But 
 I believe you will see the sense of it when you have 
 
THE RECOVERY 437 
 
 thought about it.' Don't look upon me as a per- 
 petual thorn in your side, but as one who wants you 
 to do big things and believes you can do them. I 
 will help you all I can, and try to see that your work 
 is made as interesting as possible. I should have 
 liked you to be the next editor of the Granbeian, but 
 I am afraid that you will not have the time to spare 
 for it.' 
 
 * * * * * * 
 
 As Joe walked back to the house he met two pant- 
 ing Maxites returning from a training run. 
 
 * You promised to come with us,' one of them said. 
 
 ' Fm awfully sorry, but I clean forgot all about it,' 
 was the reply. 
 
 * You'll never win " the Stourford " unless you 
 train.' 
 
 * Oh, I'll train all right, there's heaps of time,' Joe 
 said, and went into the house wondering what Ormsby 
 would think of the Head's latest idea. Ormsby, 
 however, after one exclamation of surprise, promptly 
 declared that the Head was ' a real nailer.' 
 
 ' He knew,' he said, ' that you would come back 
 and spout all this to me, and that if you made up your 
 mind to get a Balliol *' schol," I'd have to get one, 
 too. He's as cute as blazes.' 
 
 In his anxiety not to arouse Ormsby 's jealousy, Joe 
 had made light of his interview with the Head, and 
 had been most careful not to place any emphasis upon 
 the friendly way in which it had been carried on. 
 But although he was glad that Ormsby was not envious, 
 he could not help wondering if the Head had been 
 quite as ' cute ' as Ormsby considered him. In his 
 own mind Joe was not at all sure that the Head had 
 ever thought about Ormsby, but it was extremely 
 convenient — if also a little surprising — that Ormsby 
 should be convinced that he had. 
 
438 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 From that day Ormsby worked more zealously 
 than ever, though in the summer term his labours 
 were more than a little interrupted by the fact that he 
 got into the School Eleven. 
 
 Joe, meanwhile, pursued his ' career of mediocrity,' 
 as Max in impatient moments named it. He was 
 second in the Stourford Run, got the School Essay Prize 
 (which pleased his mother), and was the strenuous 
 if not very capable wicket-keeper of the Twenty-Two. 
 
 During the summer holidays it had been arranged 
 that Joe should stay with Ormsby for a week, and then 
 Ormsby was to go back to Maiden Croft with him. 
 
CHAPTER ly^ vi; 
 
 ■it .■ r 
 
 FATHERS AND SONS 
 
 Before the summer term had ended, Ormsby's 
 enthusiasm both for work and the Head showed signs 
 of waning. Max's had again won the First House 
 Challenge Cup, and though Ormsby professed to de- 
 plore the fact that cricket was interfering with his 
 work, he was also furiously angry when the Head 
 stopped two members of the School Eleven from play- 
 ing in an important match because they were candi- 
 dates for Woolwich. 
 
 No longer could it be said that the authorities of 
 Granby cared for nothing except games ; but in re- 
 moving this reproach the Head received protests from 
 most unexpected quarters. ' My boy,' the father of 
 one of the Woolwich candidates wrote, * tells me that 
 his cricket is being seriously interfered with. This 
 would not have happened in Dr. Manning's time, 
 and your sense of justice will convince you that I 
 ought not to suffer from changes in which I was not 
 consulted, and of which I do not approve.' 
 
 Other letters in the same strain reached the Head, 
 but he was quite unperturbed by any of them. Games 
 he believed in thoroughly and encouraged, but they 
 were, as long as he ruled Granby, going to be second- 
 ary to the reasons for which ' Pious John King ' had 
 founded the school : ' To soundly instruct boys in 
 
 439 
 
440 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 the knowledge that will make them citizens of the 
 world, to teach them the control of their tempers 
 which alone can ably fit them to be rulers of men, 
 to constantly remind them that their first duty is to 
 God and their second to their neighbour, and their 
 third to the school to which they temporarily belong/ 
 
 So John King had written in a very long document, 
 which was preserved under a glass case in the Granby 
 library ; and if in the exuberance of his soul he had 
 written rather more than was required, and in a style 
 at which editors of the Granheian had learned to scoff, 
 there was no getting away from the soundness of his 
 advice. 
 
 Apart from games, Ormsby had another grievance 
 against the Head, and it was that, once having begun 
 to preach to them, he had proceeded to pour forth 
 too many sermons and sermonettes. Ordinary week- 
 day chapel could no longer be considered a time for 
 mental and physical repose, but was often occupied 
 almost entirely by a short sermon to which one could 
 not save oneself from listening. It was bad form, 
 Ormsby declared, of the Head to be constantly rub- 
 bing in the fact that he was a good preacher. ' What 
 he says is all right,' Ormsby told Joe, ' but I'm blowed 
 if he ought always to be saying it/ Others, more 
 influential than Ormsby, thought the same thing ; 
 and Max, outspoken as ever, warned the Head that he 
 was making a great mistake. 
 
 * They will listen to you once a week, but when it 
 comes to a spate of sermons, you will find that you 
 are upsetting their digestions,' he said. 
 
 ' They don't show any signs of it yet. I will promise 
 to stop as soon as they do not listen,' was the reply. 
 
 ' They scuffle more than they did/ 
 
 ' It seems to me the only possible way to keep in 
 touch with so many boys,' the Head returned, ' and 
 
FATHERS AND SONS 441 
 
 though it may seem to you an egotistical thing for 
 me to say, I do feel that the more they know what is 
 in my mind, the more use I shall be to them. I can't 
 get really to know all of them, but all of them can 
 know me ; and if there is anything in me that can help 
 them, I feel that they ought to be given it/ 
 
 He believed that most public-school boys would 
 naturally be more religious if they could be taught 
 not to be afraid of the jeers of the scornful, and his 
 object was to instil a spirit of friendHness into religion, 
 without introducing the familiarity that breeds con- 
 tempt. It was, he knew, a difficult, if not an im- 
 possible task, and it was made the more difficult be- 
 cause of the limited vocabulary used by Granbeians. 
 * No one,' a headmaster, whom Mr. Challoner ad- 
 mired, had written, ' would try to talk about Com- 
 munion with God, or home affection, or any other 
 sacred and intimate thing, if he could use no other 
 terms of approbation except *' top-hole,'' and the like, 
 without feeling a fool.' 
 
 Nevertheless the Head persevered with his task, 
 and Ormsby was almost inclined to forgive him, be- 
 cause in most respects he seemed to understand ' what 
 a fellow is made of.' 
 
 * I'm about seven-eighths sinner and one-eighth 
 saint ; there's no sort of middle about me,' Ormsby 
 declared to Joe, * but the Head seems to think I'm 
 about half and half — like shandygaff.' 
 
 ' He told me yesterday he was jolly glad we were 
 going to be together some of the holidays,' Joe re- 
 plied. 
 
 * Why does he always say these things to you ? 
 He hardly ever talks to me, except about enclitics 
 and things like that.' 
 
 ' I'm blowed if I know. You'd better ask him.' 
 It was by no means the first time Ormsby had 
 
442 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 shown his jealousy of Joe's friendship with the Head, 
 but on this occasion it passed off at once. 
 
 * Well give him fits ; we will simply work like mad/ 
 he said. 
 
 ' But we won't overdo it ; we must have some fresh 
 air/ Joe replied. 
 
 ' We can work out of doors. We will clear all the 
 bugs and blackbeetles out of our summer-house, and 
 send them to that idiot Arkwright to be stuffed, or 
 whatever he does with the things.' 
 
 During the fortnight that Joe spent with Ormsby, 
 it may be truly said that the latter worked with a 
 total disregard for exercise and for his guest. 
 
 ' I'm not going to stuif in that summer-house during 
 the afternoons ; I simply can't,' Joe said at luncheon 
 on the third dav of his visit. 
 
 ■jyfi Never mind,' Ormsby said. 'I dare say I can 
 work all right by myself. It won't be the same thing, 
 but I'll worry through.' 
 
 Mr. Ormsby gave a short laugh, and helped himself 
 to salad. 
 
 * I'm sorry,' Joe said ; * but I should only fidget 
 about if I came. I feel as if I must climb trees, or 
 swim, or something.' 
 
 ' You had better leave Philip to himself, and come 
 for a walk with me,' Mr. Ormsby suggested. 
 
 * I'd like to awfully,' Joe replied ; but he also felt 
 more than a little alarmed at the prospect, for Ormsby 
 was looking across the table at him with a ' you've 
 been and done for yourself now ' expression. 
 
 And the first walk was, Joe thought, a dismal 
 failure, his only consolation being that he could not 
 possibly have said anything very foolish, because, 
 apart from saying a few ' Yesses ' and ' Noes,' he had 
 not opened his mouth. 
 
 ' You are through with that job,' Ormsby assured 
 
FATHERS AND SONS 443 
 
 him, ' for my father samples people as walkers, and 
 hardly anyone gets an encore. What did you talk 
 about ? ' 
 
 ' We scarcely talked at all/ 
 
 Ormsby laughed. ' You're as safe as a church,' 
 he declared. ".m'-. 
 
 So on the next afternoon they were both astonished 
 when Mr. Ormsby said, ■ I shall be ready, Joe, at half- 
 past two. We will go up Ledburrow Beacon. You 
 will see one of the finest views in the kingdom.' 
 
 ' Golly ! ' Ormsby exclaimed, when his father had 
 left the room. ' You're regularl}^ clean in for it. 
 Get your adjectives ready. Superb and wonderful 
 are no use. He takes people to the top of Led- 
 burrow just to find out what they will say ; but most 
 of them are so out of breath when they get there 
 that they simply sit down a.nd pant.' 
 
 Presumably Joe passed this test, for the climb up 
 Ledburrow was the second of many walks that he 
 and Mr. Ormsby took together, and at the end of a 
 fortnight Joe wondered that he had ever been scared 
 to silence by the companionship of this quietly humor- 
 ous and interesting man. 
 
 ' My father,' Ormsby said, as he and Joe were 
 travelling to Maiden Croft, ' ought to be ashamed of 
 himself, for he has been taking you away from work 
 while I've been slaving and getting ahead of you. 
 It's not the game, when you come to think of it ; 
 but it all helps me.' 
 
 * Rot,' Joe replied, ' I did as much as I could re- 
 member. Are you going to have any holidays now ? ' 
 
 * None,' Ormsby said emphatically ; ' but I'll 
 have to spend some time in getting the right side of 
 your father ; whenever he sees me at Granby, he 
 always looks as if he remembered that tea at Mother 
 Bloomfield's.' 
 
444 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 ' He will forgive you everything for making ninety- 
 three and getting nine wickets against Cliborough/ 
 Joe told him. 
 
 Very soon after they arrived at Maiden Croft, 
 it was abundantly evident that Joe had made a true 
 prophecy. However much Ormsby's athletic fame 
 was ignored in his own home, there was no mistaking 
 that at Maiden Croft it made him a most welcome 
 guest. At dinner on the first evening of his visit 
 Mr. Rumbold spoke to him frequently, and most 
 obviously approved of him. 
 
 * A little foreign-looking, but an athlete and a 
 gentleman to his finger-tips ; a most excellent friend 
 for Joe,' was Mr. Rumbold's verdict on him ; and 
 when Mrs. Rumbold reminded him mischievously 
 that he had once been prejudiced against Ormsby, 
 he replied : ' Quite so, my dear ; but Granby has 
 made a different boy of him. It has taught him 
 respect for his elders, and a thousand other things/ 
 
 No sooner, however, was Ormsby in an atmosphere 
 in which games were talked of and played from 
 morning to night, than he began to show that Granby 
 had failed to teach him one thing, at any rate, and 
 that was the value of perseverance. As the days 
 passed by he worked less and less, and at last even 
 jeered at Joe for working so steadily. 
 
 Ormsby, in fact, had been received by Mr. Rumbold, 
 Flip, and Bingo as a distinguished Granbeian ath- 
 lete, and in a week was more at home in Maiden 
 Croft than Joe had been in his life. 
 
 Sometimes he would be seized with spasms of 
 conscience, and go to Joe's bedroom and arrange a 
 programme for the following day ; but when the 
 morning came, he was overwhelmed by an irresistible 
 attack of ' Rumboldery,' and went off with either 
 Flip or Bingo to play some game. 
 
FATHERS AND SONS 445 
 
 In a sense it was a pleasure to Joe to see how 
 extraordinarily happy Ormsby was at Maiden Croft, 
 but it was impossible also not to contrast Ormsby's 
 previous opinion of Bingo with the one which he now 
 obviously held ; and the change, Joe thought, was 
 not in Bingo, but in Ormsby. 
 
 ' If I had been born an Ormsby, and Philip a 
 Rumbold, you would have been saved a lot of trouble, 
 mother,' Joe said to Mrs. Rumbold. 
 
 * And lost a lot of happiness,' she added, and Joe 
 said no more. 
 
 He knew that his mother was hoping for great 
 things when he went up for a Balliol scholar- 
 ship during the following term, but he was too dis- 
 trustful of himself to speak about his chances of 
 success. 
 
 ' I wouldn't take a hundred to one about myself,' 
 he had told Pads, when the latter had returned from 
 playing cricket for the county ; ' but it is no use to 
 worry mother by telling her so.' 
 
 ' I'd rather make two ducks against Yorkshire 
 than that you shouldn't get one of the things, Joe,' 
 Pads had answered. 
 
 ' It's a blessing we don't seem to be as hard up as 
 we were,' Joe said. 
 
 ' I believe the governor still spends more on this 
 place than he ought to. I know mother wants him 
 to give it up.' 
 
 Joe whistled, and then said : * You think it would 
 really be some use if I got a " schol " ? ' 
 
 * I'm certain, or he wouldn't let Jumpy live in 
 lodgings, and me teach small boys what I am only 
 just beginning to learn myself. Just give me that 
 coat ; we are about ten minutes late for dinner 
 already.' 
 
 They hurried down to the dining-room, and would 
 
446 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 have been rebuked for their unpunctuality had not 
 this been the last evening of Ormsby's visit. 
 
 ' I suppose/ Mr. Rumbold was saying as Joe sat 
 down, ' that you will be head of the house next 
 term/ 
 
 Ormsby looked across the table at Joe. It was a 
 certainty, he thought, that this honour was in store 
 for him, but it was scarcely for him to say so. 
 
 * Of course he will,' Joe said at once ; ' he's simply 
 made for it.' 
 
 ' And what are you made for ? ' his father asked. 
 ' To back him up when he wants it ; but he won't,' 
 Joe replied. 
 
 * I envy both of you/ Mr. Rumbold said ; ' you 
 are going to have the happiest year of your lives. 
 And if you, Joe, can get into the Eleven and the 
 Fifteen, you will also make us very happy.' 
 
 Compared with some of the tirades to which Joe 
 had listened in the past, this little statement was so 
 mild that he could only say, ' Thank you, father ; 
 of course, I'll have a shot.' 
 
 'If I'd been captain of the Fifteen, Joe would 
 have been in it already,' Ormsby declared ; ' but now 
 a fellow called Sherwood, in our house, is scrum-half, 
 and a jolly poor one too.' 
 
 ' If I leave here to-morrow morning, what time 
 do I get to Bradford ? ' Pads asked suddenly. 
 
 ' What are you going to Bradford for ? ' Bingo 
 said. 
 
 ' What do you think ? ' 
 
 * If it's to play against Yorkshire, the match is at 
 Sheffield,' Bingo announced ; and during the laughter 
 that followed. Pads winked gaily at Joe. When, in 
 his opinion, it was prudent to change the conversa- 
 tion, Pads knew that he had only to draw attention 
 to his besetting sin of vagueness, and the deed was 
 
FATHERS AND SONS 447 
 
 done ; and the trick was as successful as ever on this 
 occasion. '>M i>iit> ,''i. £U> . 
 
 Both Pads and Ormsby left Maiden Croft on the 
 following day, and when Ormsby 's letter of thanks 
 arrived, Mr. Rumbold considered it to be a perfect 
 specimen of its kind. ' I never knew what a really 
 good time was until I came to you,' was one of the 
 assertions that Ormsby made ; and Mrs. Rumbold 
 smiled when she read it. 
 
 * He's rather a nice boy really,' she said to her 
 husband ; ' but he has not begun to find himself yet. 
 He has got a lot of trouble in front of him.' 
 
 ' Not half so much as Joe has,' was the reply. 
 * Philip takes what he can get, and is thankful for it. 
 And his manners are now charming. It is impossible 
 to believe he is the same boy who was so insolent to 
 me at that tea-party.' 
 
 Mrs. Rimibold, however, saw no difficulty in be- 
 lieving this, though she did not sa}^ so. 
 
 A week after Ormsby had returned to his home 
 Joe went down with unaccustomed punctuality to 
 breakfast, and found his father sorting the letters. 
 ' Here's one from Philip for you, Joe. What does he 
 say ? ^ he asked. 
 
 ' It's rather bulgy,' Joe replied, and two minutes 
 afterwards had pushed the letter into his pocket. 
 
 ' Well, what does Philip say ? ' Mr. Rumbold asked 
 again before the Times was propped in front of him. 
 
 ' Oh, he's all right ; he's been working again. 
 They've been having topping weather.' 
 
 ' If that's all he has to say he needn't have stopped 
 working to say it,' Mr. Rumbold declared ; but Joe 
 volunteered no more information, and having eaten 
 his breakfast at express speed he went into the 
 garden. There, on a sunny bank, he produced the 
 bulgy letter, and began to study it. 
 
448 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 ' Dear Joe ' (it began), 
 
 ' I'm an ass, and Max is a bigger. Just look at 
 the tosh he's just sent me, and what he says. I was 
 an absolute fathead to leave the stuff about ; I 
 meant to take it home, and left it lying on my table. 
 I've written to Max to try and soothe the man a bit. 
 
 ' Yours, 
 ' P. O.* 
 
 Then, having finished this, Joe picked up Max's 
 letter. 
 
 * Dear Ormsby, 
 
 ' The enclosed was found by me on your table, 
 and as I saw that it referred to me I took the liberty 
 of looking at it. I can only imagine that you began 
 it some years ago, for it seems to me a peculiarly 
 childish composition. There is not, for instance, 
 such a noun as '* coerces." I, however, regret 
 greatly that any boy in my house should amuse him- 
 self so foolishly at my expense, and my regret is the 
 keener because you occupy an important position, 
 and ought to have a greater sense of the fitness of 
 things than to keep such mischievous rubbish in your 
 possession.' 
 
 ' He's in a most awful bait,' Joe said to himself, 
 and picked up the fragments of the ' Life of Max ' 
 which Ormsby had enclosed in his letter. The first 
 pages were devoted to little rhymes, and Joe gasped 
 8 f ter he had read two of them : 
 
 ' There once was a baby called Max, 
 Who was born with the heart of Ajax. 
 His brothers and sisters. 
 He covered with blisters, 
 Until they beseeched liira for " Pax." 
 
FATHERS AND SONS 449 
 
 * His squadrons of nurses tried threats and coerces, 
 But none of them mattered two dimes, 
 
 For Max from his cot 
 
 Took control of the lot, 
 And gave them the thinnest of times.* 
 
 * This is just the sort of stuff that would make 
 Max furious/ Joe thought, as he glanced through 
 the rest of Ormsby's verses. 
 
 In turn Max was made to rhyme with tin-tacks, 
 syntax, backs, wax and whacks, sacks, lax, cracks, 
 and knacks ; but, with a firm intention to look on 
 the bright side of what he had read, Joe could find 
 nothing that he could honestly call encouraging. 
 
 Almost desperate at Ormsby's carelessness in 
 leaving these effusions where Max could find them, 
 Joe put down the rhymes and picked up a sheet that 
 was headed (in red ink) : 
 
 LIFE OF xMAX THE GREAT 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 HIS INFANCY 
 
 Then, changing from red to black ink, the biographer 
 had set out on his task, and had very soon become 
 tired of it. But what he had written was in itself 
 more than enough to account for Max's wrath. 
 
 ' As is usual with very great men,' Ormsby had 
 begun, ' Max's ancestry is clouded in obscurity. 
 He is believed to have been descended almost di- 
 rectly from the sons of Anak, and to have some 
 Amazonian blood in his veins. That, however, is 
 a surmise which you may reject or accept as you will. 
 What is more certain and of greater interest is that 
 Max at the age of two won the first prize in the Bath 
 
 15 
 
450 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 and West of England Baby Show, and was awarded 
 a special diploma of merit for his biceps. Famous, 
 then, almost from his cradle, nothing has happened 
 since to dim the lustre of his career. It may not 
 be out of place to give an abbreviated list of the 
 successes he had gained before he was ten years old. 
 
 * Peterborough Infant Exhibition, 1868. Special 
 Bottle and Bib for casting the javelin. 
 
 * Olympic Games (held at Oundle in 1870). First 
 prize in Mile race for babies under five years of age. 
 Laurel wreath for wheeling his nurse three times 
 round the track and upsetting her at the end. 
 
 * Marathon Races held at the Newmarket Spring 
 Meeting in 1872. Disqualified for boring his nearest 
 rival to tears by tales of his own prowess. 
 
 * 1874, at the Amalgamated Meeting of the Athletic 
 Association of Lusty Babies. First prizes for Throw- 
 ing the Discus ; Hop, Skip, and Jump ; Threading 
 the Needle (open to ladies) ; and Climbing the 
 Greasy Pole.' 
 
 Here the ' Life of Max,* which Ormsby had talked 
 about so often and wasted so many sheets of paper 
 upon, came to an abrupt finish, and Joe's state of 
 mind when he finished reading it can only be de- 
 scribed as chaotic. 
 
 Possibly in some moods he might have laughed 
 at some of Ormsby's nonsense, but now he was so 
 wholly occupied by trying to imagine what Max 
 would think of it, that he was very far from smiling. 
 
 Not, however, until he returned to Granby did he 
 discover how grievously Max had been offended, 
 and then, to his astonishment and dismay, he found 
 that all of his belongings had been moved to the room 
 invariably occupied by the boy who was head of 
 the house. 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 fortune's wheel 
 
 Max passed through much vexation of spirit before 
 he finally made up his mind to pass over Ormsby 
 and to choose Joe as head of the house. During 
 all the years in which he had ruled over Oakshotte, 
 he had clung resolutely to the belief that the best 
 athlete in the house was naturally the fittest boy 
 to be the head of it. And if Ormsby was to be passed 
 over, Max did not blink at the fact that he was 
 departing from his general rule. As an athlete, Joe, 
 with his amazing habit of just missing the highest 
 honours, could not be compared with Ormsby, who 
 was in both the school Fifteen and Eleven. Besides, 
 Ormsby evidently liked to rule, while Joe did not 
 seem to be eager either to possess authority or to 
 exercise it. 
 
 Until Max had discovered his ' Life ' he had re- 
 garded Ormsby as the natural successor to Temperley, 
 and had, moreover, been convinced that he would 
 be a most keen and vigorous one. 
 
 But the ribaldry and disrespect contained in 
 Ormsby's verses had upset him so completely, that 
 the most contrite apologies had failed to appease 
 him. And then, while he was trying to bring him- 
 self to take a more lenient view of the offence, he 
 received a letter from the Head, to which a post- 
 451 
 
452 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 script was attached : * In case it should make any 
 difference to you in choosing a head boy for your house, 
 I had better mention that next term Rumbold will 
 be Senior Prefect of the School/ 
 
 At first Max proclaimed to his wife that it was like 
 the Head to interfere in things that were no con9ern 
 of his, and in racing language Joe went out for a 
 whole day to odds of loo to i (offered) against him 
 for the head-boyship. But after Mrs. Max had 
 pointed out that Mr. Challoner would have been 
 guilty of discourtesy if he had not mentioned this 
 decision, Max answered, ' I wish, my dear, that you 
 would occasionally admit that Challoner makes a 
 mistake ; I detest these perfect people,' and had 
 gone out for a long walk. 
 
 During this walk he swished off the heads of several 
 thistles with his stick, and came to a decision ; but 
 he did not write to Joe and say what was in store for 
 him. And even when the holidays were ended he 
 was still worried by the thought that he had rejected 
 the right boy for inadequate reasons, and had pinned 
 his faith to one who might from sheer good-nature 
 allow the house to go to rack and ruin. 
 
 Although Joe had scarcely ever discussed the 
 matter he had always taken it for granted that 
 Onnsby would be Temperley's successor. That was, 
 indeed, the arrangement that both of them wanted, 
 and Joe, even after reading the ' Life of Max,' had 
 not imagined that it would be upset. Now that he 
 found himself chosen in place of Ormsby his first 
 impulse was to be riotously angry with Max. 
 
 * If it was hkely to be any good I'd go and talk to 
 him, but he's got the hump,' Joe muttered to himself, 
 and closing the door of his room with a kick he sat 
 down on the nearest chair. 
 
 Without doubt it was a nice room, easily the largest 
 
FORTUNE'S WHEEL 453 
 
 and most comfortable in the house, and whoever had 
 arranged his pictures had, he thought, far more taste 
 than he had. 
 
 * It's jolly comfortable, but it's all no use when I 
 shall always feel as if Ormsby ought to be here,' 
 and then his fit of the glooms was interrupted by 
 Sherwood. 
 
 ' I didn't expect this,' he said. 
 
 ' More did I. What's more, I didn't want it,' 
 Joe replied, and moved quickly to avoid a descend- 
 ing pat on the back. 
 
 * All the same nearly everyone in the house will be 
 jolly glad ; they hke you a jolly lot better than 
 Ormsby,' Sherwood continued, and at the same time 
 upset Joe's temper. 
 
 ' I wish you'd stop saying that sort of thing to me ; 
 I hate it, and I hate you when you talk such rot/ 
 he said. 
 
 ' All the same it's true, they'd rather have you 
 than Ormsby,' Sherwood persisted. 
 
 ' It isn't true ; and if it is, the only reason is that 
 they think I shall be slack and Ormsby will be keen.* 
 
 ' If it comes to that, why be slack ? ' 
 
 * Because I've heaps to do without jawing to Max 
 whenever he wants to jaw to me. I suppose I ought 
 to be jawing to him now.' 
 
 ' Ormsby will be pretty sick,' Sherwood said. 
 
 ' And quite right too. You'd be sick if you were 
 in his place,' Joe replied, and went on to tell him 
 that unless he could stop gloating over Ormsby's 
 misfortunes he had better clear out of the room. 
 
 But the difficulty with Joe was that he never could 
 be rude enough to convince Sherwood, and they were 
 still talking when Ormsby burst into the room, and 
 looked both surprised and angry at seeing them to- 
 gether. Max had cut him off as he had arrived, and 
 
454 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 after a long interview he had come straight to Joe 
 to congratulate him. But Sherwood's presence 
 nipped his good intentions in the bud. 
 
 ' YouVe soon made yourselves comfortable in here. 
 May I come in ? ' he asked sarcastically. 
 
 In reply Joe stood up and pushed him into a chair, 
 but until Sherwood left the room it was impossible 
 to think of anything to say. 
 
 * He soon bolts when I come/ Ormsby remarked 
 before Sherwood had closed the door. 
 
 ' This is a most confounded nuisance ; Max is 
 madder than usual/ Joe remarked. 
 
 ' X^Hiile you have been talking to Sherwood IVe 
 been talking to Max." 
 
 ' What did he say ? ' 
 
 ' He's climbed down as far as he could. If you 
 think I'm sick because he's chosen you, you're- miles 
 out. What I'm sick about is that you will go hob- 
 nobbing with Sherwood. He's the sort of saint who 
 likes everyone else to get into thousands of rows, 
 so that he can hug himself and think how good he is. 
 He's jolly careful about his own fat conscience, 
 but he doesn't care a rap about anything else on 
 earth. His proper place is in a frame or under a 
 glass case in some mouldy museum, but he isn't 
 alive enough for this place. He's a desiccated mummy, 
 and not worth preserving at that.' 
 
 * You will feel ever so much better now that you've 
 had your usual first evening of term explosion,' 
 Joe told him. 
 
 * I shall never feel any better until Sherwood is 
 wiped off the face of the earth. He's clammy,' 
 Ormsby declared. 
 
 * I don't believe he can be both desiccated and 
 clammy, but it doesn't matter. He's a bit of a fraud, 
 for he isn't half as nice as he looks,' Joe said, and 
 
FORTUNE'S WHEEL 455 
 
 Ormsby was so mollified by this confession that he 
 proceeded to make arrangements for the coming 
 term. 
 
 Through the succeeding weeks Max had no reason 
 to complain of his new head-boy, even if there was 
 no cause to be enthusiastic about him. With 
 Ormsby' s assistance Joe managed the house satis- 
 factorily enough, and though he suspected that Piper 
 was amusing himself disreputably, he was far too 
 much engrossed by his work to worry about fellows 
 who did not actively worry him. If this pestilent 
 clique was ever to be crushed, the obvious time to 
 destroy it was after he and Ormsby had been up to 
 Oxford. 
 
 With unflagging energy both Ormsby and Joe 
 laboured until the beginning of December, but whereas 
 the former's work did not interfere greatly with his 
 games, Joe's ability as a football player quite clearly 
 deteriorated. Max groaned loudly that the last of 
 the Rumbolds was not going to get his School 
 Fifteen colours, but Joe — though sorry to disappoint 
 his father — could not be brought to join in these 
 lamentations. 
 
 The thing that was really troubling him was the 
 result of the scholarship examinations, and when the 
 time approached for him and Ormsby to set out to 
 Oxford, the contrast between the nervousness of the 
 one and the self-confidence of the other was even 
 greater than Mr. Challoner had expected it to be. 
 
 ' There is no doubt which of those two boys is the 
 better scholar,' the Head told Mr. Boyd, ' but if 
 either of them gets a scholarship I should not be at 
 all surprised if Ormsby is the one.' 
 
 * Rumbold may be quite cool when the examination 
 begins, but a good deal depends with a boy of his 
 temperament on the first paper,' Mr. Boyd said. 
 
456 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 ' I know, and I have told him to send me a wire.' 
 
 * Good gracious, you do look after them ! ' Mr. 
 Boyd said. 
 
 * Rumbold is worth looking after, for I believe 
 he will do something eventually, though his horrible 
 modesty may prevent him from doing it soon enough/ 
 
 ' Soon enough for Granby ? ' 
 
 The Head smiled. ' We aren't getting on so very 
 badly, are we ? ' he asked. 
 
 ' We are getting on very well, but a Balliol schol- 
 arship would, if it does nothing else, give me a most 
 pleasant excuse for writing to William Rumbold.' 
 
 ' He pretends to laugh at the idea of a cousin of 
 his getting a scholarship,' Mr. Challoner said. 
 
 * William is incHned to laugh at nearly everything 
 and everybody ; it is the habit of these very modern 
 men,' was the reply. 
 
 On the following afternoon, while Mr. Boyd was 
 taking his class, the school-porter brought him an 
 opened telegram : ' Did, I think, not so frightfully 
 badly ; Ormsby did very well. — Rumbold.' And 
 scribbled in pencil underneath it was : ' Character- 
 istic and hopeful. — H. C 
 
 Subsequently, however, Joe's reports from Oxford 
 were anything but sanguine about himself, and when 
 he returned to Granby he refused stolidly to hold out 
 the faintest hope of his success. 
 
 * The best of the whole thing,' he said to Sherwood, 
 ' is that it's over. Ormsby did a lot better than I 
 did, but he says he muckered up one paper altogether. 
 I muckered pretty well the whole lot.' 
 
 Ormsby stretched himself in Joe's easiest chair 
 and groaned. 
 
 ' Oxford,' he declared, * is simply a ripping place 
 if you haven't got to mug over rotten exam, papers. 
 There were smugs in that hall who looked as if they 
 
FORTUNE'S WHEEL - 457 
 
 had never seen a football in their lives, and they 
 scribbled for all they were worth, while Joe and I 
 sucked our penholders. IVe sucked enough pen- 
 holder during this week to last me until I die. Armi- 
 tage asked us to breakfast ; he's at Magdalen ; 
 and I'd rather go there than to Balliol any day. 
 Joe and I have arranged to go to Magdalen together.' 
 
 Joe had, as a matter of fact, arranged nothing, 
 but he did not take the trouble to contradict Ormsby. 
 The consciousness of complete defeat was possessing 
 him, and he wished that Sherwood and Ormsby 
 would go out of his room and leave him to himself. 
 He knew now that he had been hoping that success 
 in this examination would' atone for all that he had 
 failed to do at Granby, and he felt that he had been 
 building on the very sandiest foundations. Both at 
 work and at games he was a failure, and he wanted 
 time to take stock of himself and think what was to 
 happen in the future. 
 
 On the following day he came to the conclusion 
 that he had better leave Granby at the end of the 
 term, and get his own living. But how was he to 
 get a living ? This problem beat him altogether, 
 and he decided to place it at once before his mother. 
 
 ' There's a fellow in the house whose brother is 
 fruit-farming in California (I think), and there are 
 mounted police all over the place. I want to get out 
 and do something. It's hopeless staying here and 
 muddling on. WHhiat had I better do ? I'll hate to 
 leave, but it will only be a sham to stay here until 
 the end of the summer, and I might get started be- 
 fore then.' 
 
 To this letter Mrs. Rumbold did not reply immedi- 
 ately, and Joe at once began to wonder whether she 
 was too disgusted with him to write. But, on the 
 evening of the day on which he had expected an 
 
458 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 answex", he met Arkwright in the house Hbrary, and 
 was told that someone had been shouting for him. 
 
 ' What did he want ? ' Joe asked, and sat down to 
 look at the Sphere. 
 
 'He's got a telegram for you ; I think it was taken 
 to your room ; I hope none of your people are ill/ 
 the Infant answered gloomily. 
 
 In a moment the reason of his mother's silence 
 flashed through Joe's mind. Of course she was ill, 
 and that would ' top-up ' everything. Before leav- 
 ing the library he turned over some pages of the 
 Sphere without seeing them, and then he jumped 
 up and rushed to his room. 
 
 The telegram was lying on his table, and for several 
 seconds he stood staring at it. His mother must be 
 ill, otherwise she would have answered his letter, 
 hut until the telegram was opened he would not know 
 how ill she was. And then he made a dash at the 
 envelope and tore it open. 
 
 ' My warmest congratulations,' (he read) ' and I 
 hope your father's and mine are the first to reach 
 you. We had a wire directly the list was out. Please 
 sympathize with Philip for me. I have torn up your 
 last letter. Am coming over to-morrow. — Mother.' 
 
 Standing by his table, Joe read through his mother's 
 message twice, and then walked to the window 
 and read it three times more. Already he knew it 
 by heart, but that did not prevent him from sitting 
 down and reading it again. And, having done that, 
 he got up and looked to see if the envelope was really 
 addressed to him. 
 
 ' I'm blessed if I'm not going dotty,' he murmured ; 
 ' of course it's addressed to me. But perhaps there 
 has been a mistake.' 
 
FORTUNE'S WHEEL 459 
 
 The possibility of a mistake having been made 
 engaged his attention for a minute, but before he had 
 begun to reaHze what his success and Ormsby's 
 failure could mean, Sherwood had rushed into the 
 room and was shaking him by the hand. 
 
 ' I ran into Max as I came into the house,' he said, 
 ' and the Head has just sent him a note. Here's 
 one for you, too. Max wants to see you. I wish 
 Fd got here before you got that \vire. My stars, 
 what a time youll have now. Nothing to do, while 
 I've got to grind for Woolwich ! ' 
 
 ' Where's Ormsby ? ' Joe asked. 
 
 ' He's not in yet ; he's having tea at Mother Bloom- 
 field's with Piper. Fd like to hear old Max congrat- 
 ulating you ; he'll be funnier than a waggon-load of 
 monkeys.' 
 
 Feeling, as he described it afterwards, as if * he 
 did not belong to himself,' Joe entered his house- 
 master's study, and was promptly clapped on the 
 back. 
 
 ' I tell you honestly,' Max said, ' that I never 
 expected this, and I'm willing to admit that the Head 
 has scored a point. The lesson, I suppose, is that 
 what's one Rumbold's meat is another Rumbold's 
 poison.' 
 
 ' 1 expect that's it, sir,' Joe replied, and began to 
 smile. What meat and poison had to do with the 
 matter he did not understand, but that Max was 
 trying to be enthusiastic and failing in the attempt 
 was extremely obvious — and humorous. 
 
 ' Fm glad to see you smiling again, for during the 
 last few days you have been looking more melancholy 
 than a cat with a cold. I don't like to see the head 
 of my house taken up solely with his own concerns. 
 Not,' Max added, ' that this is a time for anything 
 but congratulations.' 
 
46o A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 For several minutes, however, Joe was detained, 
 while his housemaster struggled to work himself up 
 to an appropriate state of enthusiasm ; but a shower 
 of cold water seemed to descend upon, and mix itself 
 with, all his attempts at congratulation. Try as he 
 would, he could not forget that although he had 
 anticipated success for Joe, it had been of a very 
 different kind from that over which he was now 
 striving to rejoice. But there was still time for part 
 of his anticipations, at any rate, to be realized, if 
 only Joe would take himself in hand and determine 
 to succeed. 
 
 With * You have still a chance to win the Long 
 Stourford and to get into the Eleven ' ringing in his 
 ears, Joe at length got back to his room, and found 
 Ormsby waiting for him. 
 
 ' You are a fraud, Joe ; you always do keep things 
 dark, you told me you had done rottenly,' he said at 
 once. 
 
 ' So I thought I had ; I can scarcely believe it now. 
 Fm most awfully sorry that ' 
 
 'Oh, F don't want any blooming pity to be shed 
 over me. If only one of us was to do any good, of 
 course I'm glad you're the one. What difference 
 does it make ? ' Ormsby asked, and having jerked 
 himself out of his chair he walked to the window. 
 
 * It won't make any, not a row of pins' difference,' 
 Joe declared, but he did not feel as certain as he pre- 
 tended to be. 
 
 Success was the food upon which Ormsby had been 
 living, and although he had taken his first rebuff with- 
 out many expostulations, Joe was beset by the fear 
 that this second reverse might send him to Arkwright 
 and Piper for various forms of diversion. And before 
 the Easter term was a fortnight old, Joe knew for cer- 
 tain that Ormsby was attacked by his passion for 
 
FORTUNE'S WHEEL 461 
 
 excitement, and was gratifying it in ways that would 
 have to be stopped. 
 
 With all his powers of argument and persuasion, 
 Joe tried to prevent him from pestering Arkwright 
 and from being friendly with Piper. 
 
 ' You were aiways shoving the Infant down my 
 throat, and looking after him when we first came here, 
 and now you scare him to death and ' 
 
 ' I never touch him,' Ormsby interrupted. 
 
 * But all the same you bully him.' 
 
 * Because he's all groans and blubber ; and when 
 he gets angry you should hear what he says about this 
 place. He declares we are all a set of top-hole bounders, 
 who think of nothing but food and games. When he's 
 in a bait he's funny, but when he's in his usual rotten 
 state he's just a walking lump of misery.' 
 
 * I believe he will bolt or something unless you leave 
 him alone.' 
 
 ' Well, let him bolt, it's the best thing he could do ; 
 he would have done something worth talking about for 
 the first time in his life.' 
 
 * Fd much rather Piper bolted,' Joe said. 
 
 ' He's not the kind that bolts,' Ormsby replied, 
 and laughed noisily. 
 
 ' It might prevent him from being sacked if he 
 bolted.' 
 
 ' What the blazes do you mean, Joe ? ' 
 
 ' That unless he stops playing cards in his room, I 
 am going to stop him. That young fool Newman 
 owes him over thirty bob.' 
 
 ' What does it matter to you ? That's Newman's 
 and Piper's business.' 
 
 ' It's also mine and yours,' Joe declared. 
 
 * And Sherwood's. He's a school-prefect ; don't 
 forget that,' Ormsby sneered. 
 
 * You and I can manage Piper.' 
 
462 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 ' If you think I'm going to be roped into this, you 
 are jolly well mistaken. Vm not out to turn this 
 place into a sanatorium for babes and sucklings ; 
 it's dull enough already/ 
 
 And then Joe made his last appeal. 
 
 ' Look here, Philip,' he said, ' if you were in my 
 shoes, I'm blowed if I would go back on you. And I 
 don't believe you are going to make this job any harder 
 than it is already. I simply hate it now.' 
 
 * Then leave it alone,' Ormsby said promptly. 
 
 * I mean I hate tackling Piper, but he can't be left 
 to screw money out of silly asses like Newman. If 
 you are going to take Piper's side, I shall still go 
 on with it ; but it will be about a thousand times 
 viler/ 
 
 Ormsby sat for some time without speaking, but he 
 was in a deeper mess than Joe suspected. 
 
 ^ ' 1 should leave it alone if I were you,' he said, and 
 as he was leaving the room he added : ' Don't forget 
 we are playing the Bonhamites at three o'clock to- 
 morrow afternoon,' for he and Joe were the House 
 Fives Pair, and had to play the Bonhamites in the 
 semi-final round of the cup. 
 
 ' It's a certainty,' Max said to Ormsby during din- 
 ner on the following day ; ' but don't give anything 
 away. There's a lot of luck at Eton Fives. I like 
 the plain, hard-hitting game without any stupid 
 buttresses/ 
 
 ' We can beat the Bonhamites all right, sir,' Ormsby 
 answered ; and when dinner was over he walked off 
 with Piper, while Joe, who wis house-librarian, and 
 had been neglecting his duties, went to his room to 
 make out a list before he had to change. In a few 
 minutes he discovered that he must go to the library 
 if the list was to be useful, and as he walked up the 
 passage he met Arkwright 
 
FORTUNE'S WHEEL 463 
 
 * Why don't you go out and do something ? ' Joe 
 said, and thought that the Infant looked more woe- 
 begone than ever. 
 
 ' What is there to do in this hole ? ' he replied. 
 
 * Youll go cracked if you don't buck up a bit/ 
 Joe said. 
 
 ' I've gone cracked, and I am going to do something,' 
 Arkwright replied, and passed on. 
 
 Joe looked back at him for a few seconds, and was 
 vaguely anxious. ' 1 really believe he is cracked ; 
 I wonder what he's going to do,' he said to himself, 
 and then went into the library. 
 
 Two or three boys were in the room when he entered 
 it, but they soon disappeared, and when he went back 
 to his room to change the silence was a proof that the 
 house was empty. And then, as he was taking off 
 his coat, his eyes fell upon a bulky packet with the 
 words ' Please open ' written upon it. 
 
 ' What the blazes is this ? ' he said, and obeyed the 
 instructions. 
 
 Inside the packet were two letters — the one ad- 
 dressed to himself, the other to Mrs. Arkwright. 
 
 Tearing open the first, he read : ' Dear Joe, — 
 You have always behaved more or less like a human 
 being to me, so I am writing to let you know that I 
 have decided to score off Ormsby and end all my 
 troubles this afternoon. I am going to drown myself 
 in the Stour, and I know a deep place where I can do 
 it quite comfortably ; it's just by Pendlesham Bridge, 
 and perhaps you wouldn't mind telling them, so that 
 they shan't have much bother in finding me. You 
 know I can't swim, so it will be one plunge and then . . . 
 Good-bye.' 
 
 As Joe finished this extraordinary document he 
 ran his hand through his hair, and unconsciously 
 swore out loud. Then he looked at his watch, and 
 
464 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 saw that he was due at the fives-court in twenty 
 minutes. 
 
 ' It's two miles to Pendlesham Bridge; and he's got 
 half an hour start ; I must simply bolt after him ! ' 
 Joe exclaimed. * He's as mad as a hatter.' 
 
 Rushing into the passage, he shouted the name of 
 every fag he could think of, but no one answered him. 
 Clearly every boy had left the house, but the boot- 
 boy might still be lurking in the dim regions where he 
 spent his days. At top speed Joe dashed down the 
 stairs and shouted in vain. ' How on earth am I 
 to send word to Ormsby ? I know, I'll ring Max's 
 bell and ask a servant,' he said, as he ran back into 
 the passage ; but this idea had scarcely occurred to 
 him when he saw how dangerous it was. If Max was 
 in, he would want explanations, and by the time they 
 were given Arkwright might have committed suicide, 
 and Ormsby might be for ever branded as the cause 
 of it. 
 
 ' I could tear up my letter, but he's probably told 
 his mother too. Anyhow, I've got to bolt to Pen- 
 dlesham, and have a shot at saving the fellow/ Joe 
 thought, and, hoping to meet someone who might 
 take a message, he hurried from the house. 
 
 The road, however, to Pendlesham was directly 
 away from the school ; moreover, it was almost im- 
 mediately out of bounds. So, after one frantic look 
 round for a messenger, Joe gave up the search, and 
 started to race to the bridge. Before he had gone 
 half a mile a church clock struck three, and reminded 
 him that a crowd would be already waiting round 
 the fives-courts. 
 
 ' Of course he's cracked — of course he's cracked,' 
 he kept on repeating to himself, and went on to find 
 other excuses for Ormsby 's share in this miserable 
 business. Actual pity for Arkwright he had none, 
 
\ 
 
 FORTUNE'S WHEEL 465 
 
 or very little. If a fellow was silly enough to throw 
 himself into a river, you had got to try to save him, 
 but he wanted jolly well kicking all the same. Only 
 the fellow happened to be a bag of bones, and mad at 
 that. * You couldn't kick a skeleton/ was Joe's 
 last thought as he came in sight of Pendlesham Bridge, 
 and a few seconds later saw Arkwright sitting under 
 a tree and calmly reading a book. And at the sound 
 of footsteps the Infant looked up and placidly smiled. 
 
 ' I wondered whether you'd come,' he said. * I 
 wanted to see if anyone cared a button about me.* 
 
 Then Joe, who had run himself to an absolute stand- 
 still, uttered one furious exclamation, and put his hands 
 to his sides and his head nearly to the ground. 
 
 ' Didn't you ever intend to chuck yourself in ? ' 
 he asked when he had partly recovered. 
 
 ' I might have ; I don't know. Anyhow, I'm glad 
 you came,' the Infant said almost gaily. 
 
 ' Do you know that I've missed playing in the 
 Fives Challenge Cup against the Bonhamites, and that 
 Ormsby and a crowd of other fellows are waiting for 
 me now ? What do you say to that ? ' 
 
 ' What does a fives cup matter ? You've saved my 
 life,' the Infant replied. 
 
 ' I'd a good mind to chuck you into the river ; 
 that's what you jolly well deserve. Can't you see 
 what a mess you've made of things ? ' 
 
 ' How ? ' Arkwright asked, with exasperating com- 
 posure. 
 
 ' Well, what am I to say when I get back ? ' 
 
 Arkwright pondered over this question for a while, 
 and then said : * If you tell them the truth, I really 
 will poison myself or something.' 
 
 ' And a good job too,' Joe told him ; and the In- 
 fant at once complicated the situation by bursting 
 into tears. 
 
466 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 For some time Joe walked round him, prodding 
 him gently with his foot, beseeching him to pull him- 
 self together, alternately abusing and comforting 
 him. But Arkwright was one of the most accom- 
 plished weepers in the world. In turn he sobbed, 
 cried, groaned, heaved, and finally he snivelled, but 
 until he reached the snivelling stage there was no 
 hope of making him face the situation. 
 
 While, however, he was abandoning himself to this 
 orgy of grief, Joe set to work to think about the im- 
 mediate future. 
 
 ' If I don't tell them what you wrote and why I 
 came here, you have got to go,' he said. 
 
 ' Go where ? ' the Infant asked helplessly. 
 
 * Why, home as quickly as you can. You aren't 
 fit to be at school ; your nerves are all wrong, you 
 want feeding up and someone to look after 3^ou.' 
 
 ' That's what my mother says,' Arkwright wailed. 
 
 ' Well, tell her so at once. To-day's Wednesday ; 
 I'll give you until Saturday, but if you haven't gone 
 by then t shall say what I've been doing, and all that 
 you have gone through up to now will be a picnic 
 compared with what you'll get. We can't have fel- 
 lows in our house committing suicide all over the 
 place. It isn't done.' And as Joe finished, he could 
 not save himself from smiling. 
 
 ' If you sneak, I shall say Ormsby drove me to 
 
 ' And who will believe you ? ' Joe asked. 
 
 ' Some fellows wiU ; anyhow, it will be beastly for 
 him.' 
 
 For a few minutes the Infant seemed more in- 
 clined to make things unpleasant for Ormsby than 
 to save himself, but eventually it was agreed that he 
 should write to his mother and say that he was too 
 ill to stay any longer at Granby, and that Joe should 
 
FORTUNE'S WHEEL 467 
 
 not give a true report of what had happened until 
 the Infant had departed. 
 
 Joe, however, was not an expert in making bargains, 
 and on this occasion he had made even a worse one 
 than usual. To avoid suspicion, Arkwright entered 
 the house alone, and he was safely in his room when 
 Joe arrived to find himself face to face with a cluster 
 of fellows, who asked him in the plainest language 
 what he had been doing. 
 
 It was a natural enough question, but Joe, intent 
 on dealing with Arkwright, had not realized how dif- 
 ficult it would be to answer. 
 
 ' Something altogether unexpected turned up. I 
 am most awfully sorry for keeping everybody wait- 
 ing,' he said. 
 
 * That's all very fine,' Ormsby stood before Joe and 
 replied ; * but what was it ? ' 
 
 ' Yes ; what was it ? ' came in a chorus. 
 
 * I can't tell you now.' And then, turning to Ormsby, 
 he added quietly : * Don't keep on asking ; I'll tell 
 vou some time.' 
 
 * I want to know now,' Ormsby said in a loud voice ; 
 ' you made all of us look absolute fools, and you should 
 have heard all the Bonhamites jeering. They say 
 they are going to claim the match.' 
 
 * Such a thing has never happened before,' Piper 
 called out. 
 
 * And probably never will again,' Joe added ; and, 
 passing slowly through the crowd, he was vividly 
 conscious of the storm of bitterness that he had raised. 
 
 He had, in fact, been the most popular boy in Max's 
 when he had left it, and on his return he had been 
 met by furious faces and the fiercest criticism. At 
 tea a faint murmur ran through the hall as he went 
 in, and, thinking that to stay until nearly everyone 
 had finished would look like ' funking,' he soon got up 
 
468 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 from his seat, and was followed to the door by some- 
 thing very like a volley of hisses. 
 
 ' Fm bang up against it/ he said to himself as he 
 went back to his room ; but the idea of explaining 
 things at once to Ormsby, and so relieving the situa- 
 tion, did not even occur to him. He had made a bargain 
 with the Infant, and meant to stick to it whatever 
 the consequences were. Scarcely, however, had he 
 sat down when Sherwood joined him. 
 
 ' Look here, Joe,' he said, ' you're in for a bad time. 
 Fve just come to say I'll stick to you if you will only 
 explain things.' 
 
 ' It's jolly good of you, but you'd better leave me to 
 myself for a bit. You'll only mess things up worse, 
 but — thanks awfully,' Joe replied, and pushed him 
 towards the door. 
 
 ' Can't you say what's up ? Fellows naturally ' 
 
 ' I know,' Joe interrupted ; ' but I can't yet.' 
 
 Sherwood went away slowly, but Joe was not to 
 be left without another offer of friendship, and this 
 one came, from a most surprising quarter and had no 
 conditions attached to it. 
 
 In answer to a heavy thump on the door, Joe 
 shouted ' Come in,' and Cole lurched into the room. 
 
 ' I thought you'd about jump out of your skin 
 when you saw me,' he began. 
 
 * What's up now ? ' Joe asked. 
 
 ' Well, it's like this, Joe ; if I can manage to blurt 
 it out. I've always thought you were a bit of a worm 
 really, sort of friends with everybody, too blooming 
 fond of being popular for my taste. x\ll smiles and 
 no inside worth speaking about. I said ages ago — I've 
 never forgotten it — that some day I hoped you'd be 
 worth having a fight with, but I never expected you 
 would be. Now I think that you are.' 
 
 This v/as the queerest way of making a challenge 
 
FORTUNE'S WHEEL 469 
 
 that Joe had ever heard, but then Cole had always 
 been more or less of a lunatic, who was never happy 
 unless he was playing football. 
 
 ' I can't very well fight to-night,' he answered ; 
 * it's a bit awkward altogether, but if you wait I'll 
 try to bring it off. I've got about as much as I can 
 get through just now.' 
 
 ' You are also the Senior School-Prefect,' Cole re- 
 minded him. 
 
 ' That's true, but if you really want to have a go ' 
 
 ' But I don't,' Cole roared, and burst forth into a 
 tempest of laughter. 
 
 ' What on earth do you want, then ? ' Joe asked. 
 
 ' Why, to tell you I'm on your side. The way 
 you looked at those fellows in the passage got me. 
 I know a funk when I see one. I thought you'd back 
 down, and you didn't. It was pretty beastly for you 
 both then and at tea, and you went through it top- 
 hole. That's what I came to say, and now I've said 
 it, I'U go.' 
 
 Joe was too amazed to thank him, but his next 
 interview was less surprising and infinitely more un- 
 pleasant. Summoned to Max's study, he was told to 
 give explanations of his extraordinary conduct, and 
 when he failed to answer this command he was most 
 roundly abused. 
 
 * To-morrow morning I shall move Ormsby into 
 your room, and you will no longer be Senior Prefect 
 of my house,' Max told him at last, and then added : 
 * What are you smiling at ? ' 
 
 * I didn't know that I was smihng, sir,' Joe answered. 
 
 * It's my firm belief that all this work has turned 
 your brain. It isn't the first time, remember, that I 
 have asked you to explain your conduct, and that 
 you have refused to do so. Now go.' 
 
 As Joe left Max's study, the thought suddenly 
 
470 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 occurred to him that if only he was to be in charge of 
 the house for that evening he must deal with Piper 
 at once, or for ever hold his peace. He was already 
 in a tight comer, but even to make it still more tight 
 was better than to sit down and think. Besides, 
 the Head had constantly reminded him of the danger 
 of neglecting responsibility, and if he was to take 
 any notice of that warning no time was to be lost. 
 And above aU was a desire for battle, an irresistible 
 craving to settle matters before the reins were taken 
 out of his hands. 
 
 He went into the library for two or three minutes, 
 and the two fags who were reading the papers scowled 
 at him, looked at each other, and promptly dis- 
 appeared. 
 
 * I'm getting used to this sort of thing,' Joe thought, 
 and started off gaily to his great attack. 
 
 His only anxiety now was that Piper would not be 
 in what was known in Max's as ' The Den of Thieves,' 
 but as he stopped outside the door he heard Ormsby 
 say, ' No trumps,' and Piper reply, ' I double no 
 trumps.' 
 
 For a moment he hesitated ; somehow or other he 
 had forgotten that Ormsby would be present at this 
 attack. ' It's a confounded nuisance,' he muttered ; 
 * but here goes.' 
 
 Without knocking he opened the door, and before 
 he was inside the room Piper had asked him, in scorch- 
 ing language, what he wanted. 
 
 ' I'm going to stop you from bagging money from 
 fellows like that and that,' Joe replied, and pointed 
 at the luckless Newman and the equally unfortunate 
 Harker. 
 
 ' Oh, clear out,' Ormsby said, and turned his back 
 on Joe. 
 
 * I'm going to clear this lot out first,' Joe said, and 
 
FORTUNE'S WHEEL 471 
 
 seizing one pack of cards he threw it into the blazing 
 fire. 
 
 Whereupon Piper jumped to his feet, and poured 
 forth a volley of profanity as he jumped. 
 
 * Take that/ Joe said ; but his attempt to give an 
 open-handed smack on his cheek missed its mark, 
 and, falling on the side of Piper's nose, produced a 
 ridiculously hollow sound. It had, however, the 
 effect of bringing matters to a crisis, for Piper hurled 
 himself at Joe, and was instantaneously lying on his 
 back on his own floor. 
 
 * I'll finish this fellow off if you will all go,' Joe 
 said ; and Newman and Harker at once sought safety 
 in flight. Ormsby looked at the strugghng Piper for 
 some time, and then shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 * I'll settle with you for this, you see if I don't,' 
 he said to Joe, and swaggered from the room. 
 
 The next quarter of an hour may truthfully be de- 
 scribed as the most disagreeable time Piper had ever 
 endured. A coward by nature, he cringed most 
 disgustingly when he was cornered ; but, although he 
 was quickly reduced to a supplicating mass of groans 
 and whimpers, no exhilaration could be obtained from 
 squashing such a poltroon. 
 
 Why he had been allowed to go on so long was the 
 question that troubled Joe as he screwed information 
 from him, and found that Ormsby was no less than 
 fj] 15s. in debt. Such a * knock-out ' as that wanted 
 dealing with at once, and as soon as Piper had been 
 finished off Joe went straight to Ormsby' s room, and 
 found it filled with a babbling crowd. 
 
 ' Make yourselves scarce,' Ormsby said to them ; 
 ' Rumbold and I have heaps to square up.' 
 
 ' The first thing you had better square up is the 
 £7 15s- you owe Piper,' Joe replied, as soon as they 
 were alone. 
 
472 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 ' Supposing you mind your own business for once ; 
 here's the beastly money/ Ormsby answered, and, 
 diving his hand into a drawer, he produced two five- 
 pound notes, four sovereigns, and two half-sovereigns. 
 
 ' Where did you get all that from ? ' Joe managed 
 to ask. 
 
 ' I didn't steal it. As a matter of fact, half of it 
 is yours, though I'd rather give it to a Home for De- 
 cayed Frogs than to you,' Ormsby declared, and he 
 pushed half of the money across the table. 
 
 Joe, however, merely stared at it. 
 
 * As you have a right to know how I got it, I'll 
 tell you ; and then we've done, and you can let Sher- 
 wood hang on to you, as I always said he would. 
 Look there,' Ormsby said, and pointed to a bare piece 
 of wall. 
 
 ' I can't see anything,' Joe replied. 
 
 * No ; but there used to be something.' 
 
 ' Was it William's picture ? ' Joe asked, and looked 
 round the room. 
 
 ' It wasn't your rotten cousin's picture ; it was by 
 that fellow Rudesheimer, or whatever his name is, 
 after all. Newman's father was here last week, and 
 spotted it ; and I sold it to Maggs, the picture-dealer 
 in Broad Street, this afternoon, when you cut playing 
 the Bonhamites, and won't say why.' 
 
 ' But,' Joe said, ' if William didn't really paint it, 
 we've sort of swindled old Wedberg. I told him I 
 knew William painted it.' 
 
 ' Wedberg's dead, and his shop's shut up — been 
 shut up for ages. Is that good enough for you ? ' 
 
 Joe supposed that it was, and Ormsby continued : 
 ' If you hadn't played such a low-down game this 
 afternoon, I should never have sold the thing without 
 telling you. But you've always kept things dark, 
 and I've done with you.' 
 
FORTUNE'S WHEEL 473 
 
 ' Not yet/ Joe said, and, leaving the money on the 
 table, he went out of the room. 
 
 Until Mrs. Arkwright arrived on the Friday even- 
 ing, iand insisted, in spite of Max's expostulations, 
 on removing the Infant there and then, Joe went 
 through a sea of troubles. He had never wanted to 
 be head of the house, but there was no disguising the 
 fact that his removal from that position came at a 
 most unfortunate time. For two days he was openly 
 scoffed at in Max's, and while he was going through 
 this time of misery, he realized also that no boy ex- 
 cept Ormsby must ever have the facts of the case 
 explained to them. 
 
 ' If they ever find out that the Infant threatened 
 to chuck himself into the Stour, they will stick it all 
 down to Ormsby, and he will get it nearly as hot as 
 I've had it,' Joe decided. 
 
 But when the Infant had disappeared from the place 
 for which he was never fitted, Joe went to Ormsby 's 
 room, and, without any concealment, stated exactly 
 what had happened during the previous Wednes- 
 day. 
 
 ' But why didn't you tell me ? ' Ormsby kept on 
 asking ; but it was a question Joe did not answer 
 until he was pressed again and again. 
 
 ' I suppose,' he said at last, ' that it was because I 
 knew you had got into the habit of going for him, and 
 thought you would have another go.' 
 
 ' And you were thundering well right,' Ormsby 
 exclaimed ; * I was an absolute beast to him.' 
 
 ' It's all over now,' Joe said. 
 
 ' No, it's just begun,' Ormsby replied ; ' you've 
 saved me from a million things. Supposing the 
 Infant had ..." 
 
 * I don't believe he ever meant to. That was the 
 only funny bit in it.' 
 
474 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 ' And — oh . . . what a bhghter IVe been ! I must 
 tell everybody/ 
 
 ' You promised not to. It's rough on the Infant 
 too.' 
 
 Ormsby jumped up, and roamed restlessly about the 
 room that had been Joe's, and protested as he roamed. 
 
 ' I must tell your people, the Head and Max,' he 
 declared ; ' I shall never feel half clean until they 
 know. Then I can make a fresh start.' 
 
 * All right,' Joe said. ' I would rather like my 
 father and Max to know, for they will give me a fairly 
 thin time until they do.' 
 
 **■}«• ^ * * 
 
 Speech-day at Granby during the following summer 
 was attended by what Thomas Lee (the keeper of the 
 Big Gate, and aged seventy-three) declared to be a 
 record crowd. ' There were a sight of people here in 
 '82 and '83, but there's a bigger sight to-day,' he said. 
 From far and wide Granbeians had gathered to- 
 gether to show their love for the old school, and to 
 rejoice over its reviving fortunes. And of all the 
 visitors who sat in the Big Classical and listened to 
 the hst of honours that had been won during the year, 
 no one was prouder than Mr. Rumbold. Sitting by 
 the side of his wife, he beamed upon her and upon all 
 who were sitting near him. He had, in fact, appro- 
 priated this day to himself, and Mrs. Rumbold could 
 scarcely conceal her amusement. 
 
 * Joe seems to be the most popular boy in the school,' 
 he said. * I like to hear the name of Rumbold cheered 
 like that. And it sounds almost better in a room. 
 What was it the Head told us this morning about Joe 
 and Philip ? ' 
 
 * Only that during the last term and a half they have 
 been such friends that no one else can get a chance to 
 speak to them,' Mrs. Rumbold replied ; but tears of 
 
FORTUNE'S WHEEL 475 
 
 thankfulness were swimming in her eyes, and she 
 wanted to sit silently and watch Joe go up for his 
 second prize. 
 
 ' There was more than that. Didn't he say that he 
 wished every house in the school had two boys like 
 Joe and Philip to look after it ? ' 
 
 Mrs. Rumbqld answered with a nod, for Joe's name 
 had again been called. 
 
 ' He will want the luggage-cart to take all these 
 books home ; I never expected to sit here and see a 
 son of mine get more prizes than he can carry. I 
 suppose we owe something to Challoner. But,' he 
 continued, * I wish schoolmasters wouldn't talk to 
 me about these classical fellows as if I ought to know 
 all about them^ When the Head mentioned Pylades 
 and Orestes, I'm bothered if I didn't think they were 
 a brace of islands until you gave me a hint.' ■ 
 
 During the remainder of the prize-giving he yawned 
 repeatedly ; for, after Joe had appeared for the last 
 time, his interest in the proceedings was at an end. 
 
 ' I want to get out of this and watch the cricket,' 
 he said, but when the function had finished and he was 
 steering Mrs. Rumbold from the Classical, so many 
 congratulations were showered upon them, that he 
 was in the best of good spirits when he found Joe and 
 Ormsby waiting in the Quadrangle, and talking to 
 William Rumbold. 
 
 ' I think, Joe,' he said, ' that without any very un- 
 British display of emotion I may be allowed to shake 
 your hand. I'm afraid you will never get a Blue at 
 Oxford, but all the same it may be worth while to 
 send you there. And I shouldn't be at all surprised 
 if your mother thinks the same.' 
 
 There was a twinkle in his father's eye which Joe 
 noticed and understood, but William prevented him 
 from speaking. 
 
476 A BAND OF BROTHERS 
 
 ' That was only meant to score ofi me, Joe/ he 
 said. 
 
 * Not altogether/ Mr. Rumbold declared ; * for I 
 think cricket the best game in the world, and crick- 
 eters some of the best fellows in it. I have forgiven 
 you, William ; but the sooner you clever young men 
 stop jeering at everyone and everything, the better 
 it will be for England. Unless you can be enthusiastic 
 about something or somebody, your tongues will 
 become permanently glued to your cheeks. And 
 you might remember that an athlete is not neces- 
 sarily a fool.' 
 
 ' I have never ' William began ; but Mr. Rum- 
 bold did not wish to listen to any excuses, and at once 
 turned to Joe and Ormsby. 
 
 * I am sure,' he said, ' that you two agree with me/ 
 And their reply was : * Rather/ 
 
 THE END 
 
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