'Take care, then, that nothing of the kind happens again,' said Dr. Hoxton, who was very fond of him, and did not find fault with him willingly.
That the first inflammatory discourse had been made by Anderson did not appear to be known--he only came in for the general reprimand given to the school.
It was reported the following evening, just as the town boys turned out to go to their homes, that 'old Tomkins had his fence up five times higher than before.'
'Have at him again, say I!' exclaimed Axworthy. 'What business has he coming stopping up ways that were made before he was born?'
'We shall catch it from the doctor if we do,' said Edward Anderson, 'He looked in no end of a rage yesterday when he talked about the credit of the school.'
'Who cares for the credit of the school?' said the elder Anderson; 'we are out of the school now--we are townsmen--Stoneborough boys-- citizens not bound to submit to injustice. No, no, the old rogue knew it would not stand if it was brought into court, so he brings down old Hoxton on us instead--a dirty trick he deserves to be punished for.'
And there was a general shout and yell in reply.
'Anderson,' said Norman, 'you had better not excite them again, they are ripe for mischief. It will go further than it did yesterday-- don't you see?'
Anderson could not afford to get into a scrape without May to stand before him, and rather sulkily he assented.
'It is of no use to rave about old Tomkins,' proceeded Norman, in his style of popular oratory. 'If it is illegal, some one will go to law about it, and we shall have our alley again. We have shown him our mind once, and that is enough; if we let him alone now, he will see 'tis only because we are ordered, not for his sake. It would be just putting him in the right, and maybe winning his cause for him, to use any more violence. There's law for you, Anderson. So now no more about it--let us all go home like rational fellows. August, where's August?'
Tom was not visible--he generally avoided going home with his brother; and Norman having seen the boys divide into two or three little parties, as their roads lay homewards, found he had an hour of light for an expedition of his own, along the bank of the river. He had taken up botany with much ardour, and sharing the study with Margaret was a great delight to both. There was a report that the rare yellow bog-bean grew in a meadow about a mile and a half up the river, and thither he was bound, extremely enjoying the summer evening walk, as the fresh dewy coolness sunk on all around, and the noises of the town were mellowed by distance, and the sun's last beams slanted on the green meadows, and the May-flies danced, and dragon-flies darted, and fish rose or leaped high in the air, or showed their spotted sides, and opened and shut their gills, as they rested in the clear water, and the evening breeze rustled in the tall reeds, and brought fragrance from the fresh-mown hay.
It was complete enjoyment to Norman after his day's study and the rule and watch over the unruly crowd of boys, and he walked and wandered and collected plants for Margaret till the sun was down, and the grasshoppers chirped clamorously, while the fern-owl purred, and the beetle hummed, and the skimming swallows had given place to the soft-winged bat, and the large white owl floating over the fields as it moused in the long grass.
The summer twilight was sobering every tint, when, as Norman crossed the cricket-field, he heard, in the distance, a loud shout. He looked up, and it seemed to him that he saw some black specks dancing in the forbidden field, and something like the waving of a flag, but it was not light enough to be certain, and he walked quickly home.
The front door was fastened, and, while he was waiting to be let in, Mr. Harrison walked by, and called out, 'You are late at home to- night--it is half-past nine.'
'I have been taking a walk, sir.'
A good-night was the answer, as he was admitted. Every one in the drawing-room looked up, and exclaimed as he entered, 'Where's Tom?'
'What! he is not come home?'
'No! Was he not with you?'
'I missed him after school. I was persuaded he was come home. I have been to look for the yellow bog-bean. There, Margaret. Had not I better go and look for him?'
'Yes, do,' said Dr. May. 'The boy is never off one's mind.'
A sort of instinctive dread directed Norman's steps down the open portion of Randall's Alley, and, voices growing louder as he came nearer, confirmed his suspicions. The fence at this end was down, and, on entering the field, a gleam of light met his eye on the ground--a cloud of smoke, black figures were flitting round it, pushing brands into red places, and feeding the bonfire.
'What have you been doing?' exclaimed Norman. 'You have got yourselves into a tremendous scrape!'
A peal of laughter, and shout of 'Randall and Stoneborough for ever!' was the reply.
'August! May junior! Tom! answer me! Is he here?' asked Norman, not solicitous to identify any one.
But gruff voices broke in upon them. 'There they are, nothing like 'em for mischief.'
'Come, young gentlemen,' said a policeman, 'be off, if you please. We don't want to have none of you at the station to-night.'
A general hurry-skurry ensued. Norman alone, strong in innocence, walked quietly away, and, as he came forth from the darkness of the alley, beheld something scouring away before him, in the direction of home. It popped in at the front door before him, but was not in the drawing-room. He strode upstairs, called, but was not answered, and found, under the bedclothes, a quivering mass, consisting of Tom, with all his clothes on, fully persuaded that it was the policeman who was pursuing him.
CHAPTER XXII.
Oh Life, without thy chequered scene, Of right and wrong, of weal and woe, Success and failure, could a ground For magnanimity be found? WORDSWORTH.
Dr. May was called for late the next day, Friday, and spent some time in one of the houses near the river. It was nearly eight o'clock when he came away, and he lingered, looking towards the school, in hopes of a walk home with his boys.
Presently he saw Norman coming out from under the archway, his cap drawn over his face, and step, gesture, and manner betraying that something was seriously wrong. He came up almost to his father without seeing him, until startled by his exclamation, 'Norman--why, Norman, what's the matter?'
Norman's lips quivered, and his face was pale--he seemed as if he could not speak.
'Where's Tom ?' said the doctor, much alarmed. 'Has he got into disgrace about this business of Tomkins? That boy--'
'He has only got an imposition,' interrupted Norman. 'No, it is not that--it is myself'--and it was only with a gulp and struggle that he brought out the words, 'I am turned down in the school.'
The doctor started back a step or two, aghast. 'What-how--speak, Norman. What have you done?'
'Nothing!' said Norman, recovering in the desire to reassure his father--'nothing!'
'That's right,' said the doctor, breathing freely. 'What's the meaning of it...a misunderstanding?'
'Yes,' said Norman, with bitterness. 'It is all Anderson's doing--a word from him would have set all straight-- but he would not; I believe, from my heart, he held his tongue to get me down, that he might have the Randall!'
'We'll see you righted,' said the doctor eagerly. 'Come, tell me the whole story, Norman. Is it about this unlucky business?'
'Yes. The town-fellows were all up about it last evening, when we came out of school. Anderson senior himself began to put them up to having the fence down again. Yes, that he did--I remember his very words--that Tomkins could not bring it into court, and so set old Hoxton at us. Well, I told them it would not do--thought I had settled them--saw them off home--yes, Simpson, and Benson, and Grey, up the High Street, and the others their way. I only left Axworthy going into a shop when I set off on my walk. What could a fellow do more? How was I to know that that Axworthy would get them together again, and take them to this affair--pull up the stakes--saw them down--for they were hard to get down--shy all sorts of things over into the court-hoot at old Tomkins's man, when he told them to be off--and make a bonfire of the sticks at last?'
'And Harvey Anderson was there?'
