Complete Works of Rudyard Kipling (Illustrated), page 342
“I confess I cannot agree with you, Prout,” said the Reverend John. “He jumped at some silly tale of theft on their part; accepted another boy’s evidence without, so far as I can see, any inquiry; and — frankly, I think he deserved all he got.”
“They deliberately outraged Mason’s best feelings,” said Prout. “A word to me on their part would have saved the whole thing. But they preferred to lure him on; to play on his ignorance of their characters — ”
“That may be,” said King, “but I don’t like Mason. I dislike him for the very reason that Prout advances to his credit. He means well.”
“Our criminal tradition is not theft — among ourselves, at least,” said little Hartopp.
“For the head of a house that raided seven head of cattle from the innocent pot-wallopers of Northam, isn’t that rather a sweeping statement?” said Macrae.
“Precisely so,” said Hartopp, unabashed. “That, with gate-lifting, and a little poaching and hawk-hunting on the cliffs, is our salvation.”
“It does us far more harm as a school — ” Prout began.
“Than any hushed-up scandal could? Quite so. Our reputation among the farmers is most unsavory. But I would much sooner deal with any amount of ingenious crime of that nature than — some other offenses.”
“They may be all right, but they are unboylike, abnormal, and, in my opinion, unsound,” Prout insisted. “The moral effect of their performances must pave the way for greater harm. It makes me doubtful how to deal with them. I might separate them.”
“You might, of course; but they have gone up the school together for six years. I shouldn’t care to do it,” said Macrae.
“They use the editorial ‘we,’” said King, irrelevantly. “It annoys me. ‘Where’s your prose, Corkran?’ ‘Well, sir, we haven’t quite done it yet.’ ‘We’ll bring it in a minute,’ and so on. And the same with the others.”
“There’s great virtue in that ‘we,’” said little Hartopp. “You know I take them for trig. McTurk may have some conception of the meaning of it; but Beetle is as the brutes that perish about sines and cosines. He copies serenely from Stalky, who positively rejoices in mathematics.”
“Why don’t you stop it?” said Prout.
“It rights itself at the exams. Then Beetle shows up blank sheets, and trusts to his ‘English’ to save him from a fall. I fancy he spends most of his time with me in writing verse.”
“I wish to Heaven he would transfer a little of his energy in that direction to Elegiaes.” King jerked himself upright. “He is, with the single exception of Stalky, the very vilest manufacturer of ‘barbarous hexameters’ that I have ever dealt with.”
“The work is combined in that study,” said the chaplain. “Stalky does the mathematics, McTurk the Latin, and Beetle attends to their English and French. At least, when he was in the sick-house last month — ”
“Malingering,” Prout interjected.
“Quite possibly. I found a very distinct falling off in their ‘Roman d’un Jeune Homme Pauvre’ translations.”
“I think it is profoundly immoral,” said Prout. “I’ve always been opposed to the study system.”
“It would be hard to find any study where the boys don’t help each other; but in Number Five the thing has probably been reduced to a system,” said little Hartopp. “They have a system in most things.”
“They confess as much,” said the Reverend John. “I’ve seen McTurk being hounded up the stairs to elegise the ‘Elegy in a Churchyard,’ while Beetle and Stalky went to punt-about.”
“It amounts to systematic cribbing,” said Prout, his voice growing deeper and deeper.
“No such thing,” little Hartopp returned. “You can’t teach a cow the violin.”
“In intention it is cribbing.”
“But we spoke under the seal of the confessional, didn’t we?” said the Reverend John.
“You say you’ve heard them arranging their work in this way, Gillett,” Prout persisted.
“Good Heavens! Don’t make me Queen’s evidence, my dear fellow. Hartopp is equally incriminated. If they ever found out that I had sneaked, our relations would suffer — and I value them.”
“I think your attitude in this matter is weak,” said Prout, looking round for support. “It would be really better to break up the study — for a while — wouldn’t it?”
“Oh, break it up by all means,” said Macrae. “We shall see then if Gillett’s theory holds water.”
“Be wise, Prout. Leave them alone, or calamity will overtake you; and what is much more important, they will be annoyed with me. I am too fat, alas! to be worried by bad boys. Where are you going?”
“Nonsense! They would not dare — -but I am going to think this out,” said Prout. “It needs thought. In intention they cribbed, and I must think out my duty.”
“He’s perfectly capable of putting the boys on their honor. It’s I that am a fool.” The Reverend John looked round remorsefully. “Never again will I forget that a master is not a man. Mark my words,” said the Reverend John. “There will be trouble.”
But by the yellow Tiber
Was tumult and affright.
Out of the blue sky (they were still rejoicing over the cat war) Mr. Prout had dropped into Number Five, read them a lecture on the enormity of cribbing, and bidden them return to the form-rooms on Monday. They had raged, solo and chorus, all through the peaceful Sabbath, for their sin was more or less the daily practice of all the studies.
“What’s the good of cursing?” said Stalky at last. “We’re all in the same boat. We’ve got to go back and consort with the house. A locker in the form-room, and a seat at prep. in Number Twelve.” (He looked regretfully round the cozy study which McTurk, their leader in matters of Art, had decorated with a dado, a stencil, and cretonne hangings.)
“Yes! Heffy lurchin’ into the form-rooms like a frowzy old retriever, to see if we aren’t up to something. You know he never leaves his house alone, these days,” said McTurk. “Oh, it will be giddy!”
“Why aren’t you down watchin’ cricket? I like a robust, healthy boy. You mustn’t frowst in a form-room. Why don’t you take an interest in your house? Yah!” quoted Beetle.
“Yes, why don’t we? Let’s! We’ll take an interest in the house. We’ll take no end of interest in the house! He hasn’t had us in the form-rooms for a year. We’ve learned a lot since then. Oh, we’ll make it a be-autiful house before we’ve done! ‘Member that chap in ‘Eric’ or ‘St. Winifred’s’ — Belial somebody? I’m goin’ to be Belial,” said Stalky, with an ensnaring grin.
“Right O,” said Beetle, “and I’ll be Mammon. I’ll lend money at usury — that’s what they do at all schools accordin’ to the B.O.P. Penny a week on a shillin’. That’ll startle Heffy’s weak intellect. You can be Lucifer, Turkey.”
“What have I got to do?” McTurk also smiled.
“Head conspiracies — and cabals — and boycotts. Go in for that ‘stealthy intrigue’ that Heffy is always talkin’ about. Come on!”
The house received them on their fall with the mixture of jest and sympathy always extended to boys turned out of their study. The known aloofness of the three made them more interesting.
“Quite like old times, ain’t it?” Stalky selected a locker and flung in his books. “We’ve come to sport with you, my young friends, for a while, because our beloved house-master has hove us out of our diggin’s.”
“‘Serve you jolly well right,” said Orrin, “you cribbers!”
“This will never do,” said Stalky. “We can’t maintain our giddy prestige, Orrin, de-ah, if you make these remarks.”
They wrapped themselves lovingly about the boy, thrust him to the opened window, and drew down the sash to the nape of his neck. With an equal swiftness they tied his thumbs together behind his back with a piece of twine, and then, because he kicked furiously, removed his shoes. There Mr. Prout happened to find him a few minutes later, guillotined and helpless, surrounded by a convulsed crowd who would not assist.
Stalky, in an upper form-room, had gathered himself allies against vengeance. Orrin presently tore up at the head of a boarding party, and the form-room grew one fog of dust through which boys wrestled, stamped, shouted, and yelled. A desk was carried away in the tumult, a knot of warriors reeled into and split a door-panel, a window was broken, and a gas-jet fell. Under cover of the confusion the three escaped to the corridor, whence they called in and sent up passers-by to the fray.
“Rescue, Kings! Kings! Kings! Number Twelve form-room! Rescue, Prouts — Prouts! Rescue, Macraes! Rescue, Hartopps!”
The juniors hurried out like bees aswarm, asking no questions, clattered up the staircase, and added themselves to the embroilment.
“Not bad for the first evening’s work,” said Stalky, rearranging his collar. “I fancy Prout’ll be somewhat annoyed. We’d better establish an alibi.” So they sat on Mr. King’s railings till prep.
“You see,” quoth Stalky, as they strolled up to prep. with the ignoble herd, “if you get the houses well mixed up an’ scufflin’, it’s even bettin’ that some ass will start a real row. Hullo, Orrin, you look rather metagrobolized.”
“It was all your fault, you beast! You started it. We’ve got two hundred lines apiece, and Heffy’s lookin’ for you. Just see what that swine Malpas did to my eye!”
“I like your saying we started it. Who called us cribbers? Can’t your infant mind connect cause and effect yet? Some day you’ll find out that it don’t pay to jest with Number Five.”
“Where’s that shillin’ you owe me?” said Beetle suddenly.
Stalky could not see Prout behind him, but returned the lead without a quaver. “I only owed you ninepence, you old usurer.”
“You’ve forgotten the interest,” said McTurk. “A halfpenny a week per bob is Beetle’s charge. You must be beastly rich, Beetle.”
“Well, Beetle lent me sixpence.” Stalky came to a full stop and made as to work it out on his fingers. “Sixpence on the nineteenth, didn’t he?”
“Yes; but you’ve forgotten you paid no interest on the other bob — the one I lent you before.”
“But you took my watch as security.” The game was developing itself almost automatically.
“Never mind. Pay me my interest, or I’ll charge you interest on interest. Remember, I’ve got your note-of-hand!” shouted Beetle.
“You are a cold-blooded Jew,” Stalky groaned.
“Hush!” said McTurk very loudly indeed, and started as Prout came upon them.
“I didn’t see you in that disgraceful affair in the form-room just now,” said he.
“What, sir? We’re just come up from Mr. King’s,” said Stalky. “Please, sir, what am I to do about prep.? They’ve broken the desk you told me to sit at, and the form’s just swimming with ink.”
“Find another seat — find another seat. D’you expect me to dry-nurse you? I wish to know whether you are in the habit of advancing money to your associates, Beetle?”
“No, sir; not as a general rule, sir.”
“It is a most reprehensible habit. I thought that my house, at least, would be free from it. Even with my opinion of you, I hardly thought it was one of your vices.”
“There’s no harm in lending money, sir, is there?”
“I am not going to bandy words with you on your notions of morality. How much have you lent Corkran?”
“I — I don’t quite know,” said Beetle. It is difficult to improvise a going concern on the spur of the minute.
“You seemed certain enough just now.”
“I think it’s two and fourpence,” said McTurk, with a glance of cold scorn at Beetle. In the hopelessly involved finances of the study there was just that sum to which both McTurk and Beetle laid claim, as their share in the pledging of Stalky’s second-best Sunday trousers. But Stalky had maintained for two terms that the money was his “commission” for effecting the pawn; and had, of course, spent it on a study “brew.”
“Understand this, then. You are not to continue your operations as a money-lender. Two and fourpence, you said, Corkran?”
Stalky had said nothing, and continued so to do.
“Your influence for evil is quite strong enough without buying a hold over your companions.” He felt in his pockets, and (oh joy!) produced a florin and fourpence. “Bring me what you call Corkran’s note-of-hand, and be thankful that I do not carry the matter any further. The money is stopped from your pocket-money, Corkran. The receipt to my study, at once!”
Little they cared! Two and fourpence in a lump is worth six weekly sixpences any hungry day of the week.
“But what the dooce is a note-of-hand?” said Beetle. “I only read about it in a book.”
“Now you’ve jolly well got to make one,” said Stalky.
“Yes — but our ink don’t turn black till next day. S’pose he’ll spot that?”
“Not him. He’s too worried,” said McTurk. “Sign your name on a bit of impot-paper, Stalky, and write, ‘I O U two and fourpence.’ Aren’t you grateful to me for getting that out of Prout? Stalky’d never have paid... Why, you ass!”
Mechanically Beetle had handed over the money to Stalky as treasurer of the study. The custom of years is not lightly broken. In return for the document, Prout expounded to Beetle the enormity of money-lending, which, like everything except compulsory cricket, corrupted houses and destroyed good feeling among boys, made youth cold and calculating, and opened the door to all evil. Finally, did Beetle know of any other cases? If so, it was his duty as proof of repentance to let his house-master know. No names need be mentioned.
Beetle did not know — at least, he was not quite sure, sir. How could he give evidence against his friends? The house might, of course — here he feigned an anguished delicacy — be full of it. He was not in a position to say. He had not met with any open competition in his trade; but if Mr. Prout considered it was a matter that affected the honor of the house (Mr. Prout did consider it precisely that), perhaps the house-prefects would be better...
He spun it out till half-way through prep.
“And,” said the amateur Shylock, returning to the form-room and dropping at Stalky’s side, “if he don’t think the house is putrid with it, I’m several Dutch-men — that’s all... I’ve been to Mr. Prout’s study, sir.” This to the prep.-master. “He said I could sit where I liked, sir... Oh, he is just tricklin’ with emotion... Yes, sir, I’m only askin’ Corkran to let me have a dip in his ink.”
After prayers, on the road to the dormitories, Harrison and Craye, senior house-prefects, zealous in their office, waylaid them with great anger. “What have you been doing to Heffy this time, Beetle? He’s been jawing us all the evening.”
“What has His Serene Transparency been vexin’ you for?” said McTurk.
“About Beetle lendin’ money to Stalky,” began Harrison; “and then Beetle went and told him that there was any amount of money-lendin’ in the house.”
“No, you don’t,” said Beetle, sitting on a boot-basket. “That’s just what I didn’t tell him. I spoke the giddy truth. He asked me if there was much of it in the house; and I said I didn’t know.”
“He thinks you’re a set of filthy Shylocks,” said McTurk. “It’s just as well for you he don’t think you’re burglars. You know he never gets a notion out of his conscientious old head.”
“Well-meanin’ man. Did it all for the best.” Stalky curled gracefully round the stair-rail. “Head in a drain-pipe. Full confession in the left boot. Bad for the honor of the house — very.”
“Shut up,” said Harrison. “You chaps always behave as if you were jawin’ us when we come to jaw you.”
“You’re a lot too cheeky,” said Craye.
“I don’t quite see where the cheek comes in, except on your part, in interferin’ with a private matter between me an’ Beetle after it has been settled by Prout.” Stalky winked cheerfully at the others.
“That’s the worst of clever little swots,” said McTurk, addressing the gas. “They get made prefects before they have any tact, and then they annoy chaps who could really help ‘em to look after the honor of the house.”
“We won’t trouble you to do that!” said Craye hotly.
“Then what are you badgerin’ us for?” said Beetle. “On your own showing, you’ve been so beastly slack, looking after the house, that Prout believes it’s a nest of money-lenders. I’ve told him that I’ve lent money to Stalky, and no one else. I don’t know whether he believes me, but that finishes my case. The rest is your business.”
“Now we find out,” Stalky’s voice rose, “that there is apparently an organized conspiracy throughout the house. For aught we know, the fags may be lendin’ and borrowin’ far beyond their means. We aren’t responsible for it. We’re only the rank and file.”
“Are you surprised we don’t wish to associate with the house?” said McTurk, with dignity. “We’ve kept ourselves to ourselves in our study till we were turned out, and now we find ourselves let in for for this sort of thing. It’s simply disgraceful.”
“Then you hector and bullyrag us on the stairs,” said Stalky, “about matters that are your business entirely. You know we aren’t prefects.”
“You threatened us with a prefect’s lickin’ just now,” said Beetle, boldly inventing as he saw the bewilderment in the faces of the enemy. “And if you expect you’ll gain anything from us by your way of approachin’ us, you’re jolly well mistaken. That’s all. Good-night.”
They clattered upstairs, injured virtue on every inch of their backs.
“But — but what the dickens have we done?” said Harrison, amazedly, to Craye.
“I don’t know. Only — it always happens that way when one has anything to do with them. They’re so beastly plausible.”
And Mr. Prout called the good boys into his study anew, and succeeded in sinking both his and their innocent minds ten fathoms deeper in blindfolded bedazement. He spoke of steps and measures, of tone and loyalty in the house and to the house, and urged them to take up the matter tactfully.
