Tom Brown's Body

my boys be differentiated against?'

'In what way?' Mr Wyck enquired. 'I know Conway is a trying sort of fellow and has a habit of keeping boys in at inconvenient times, but I am afraid we must uphold him, you know. He will learn as he grows older. We've all been through the mill, my dear fellow, and must suffer the tyros gladly.'

'It's not my Roman Bath this time,' said Mr Loveday, mollified by the Headmaster's implication that he was a better disciplinarian than Mr Conway, although he knew that this was not so. 'It is the boxing. My boys have begun to complain. It takes a good deal to make boys complain of one master to another –'

Mr Wyck knew better than this. He was well aware of the genius of boys for fomenting quarrels between masters either for their own advantage or for their own lawless amusement.

'Boxing?' he said, raising his eyebrows to emphasize that this was a new departure. 'How do you mean?'

'Well,' said Mr Loveday, his untidy moustache beginning to bristle, 'it's like this, Headmaster. Last year my boys were allowed the use of the gymnasium on second Tuesdays for boxing practice, but last week Cartaris came to me and explained that the House boxing had had to give place to School boxing coached by Mr Conway. I saw nothing against this. The School, naturally, must come before any individual House. But what do I find? This week Cartaris informs me that other Houses are allowed their full practice time. It is only on my day that the gymnasium is required for a full School practice.'

'Wait a minute, though, Loveday,' said Mr Wyck. 'Wait just a minute, my dear fellow. Which of your boys are in the School boxing team?'

'I – I really could scarcely say,' said Mr Loveday, looking nonplussed. 'Cartaris, I suppose, and – and –'

'Heavyweight, Cartaris of Loveday's,' said Mr Wyck impressively. 'Middleweight, Stallard of Loveday's. Lightweight, Edgeley of Lovedays. Featherweight, Takhobali of Loveday's. You know, it does seem to me, my dear fellow, that as there are so many Houses to be fitted in and only the one gymnasium into which to fit them, that your House is getting its practice time, even although it is not called House practice but School practice. Still, perhaps if you had a general word with Conway –'

Mr Loveday could have snarled with disappointment and fury. Mr Wyck smiled sadly and shook his head. He did not like Mr Conway, but he thought that a man of Mr Loveday's age and experience should have been able to manage him. Mr Wyck disliked dissension and loved harmony, but on a big staff there must be some misfits. Unfortunately, in many ways Mr Loveday, fussy, pedantic, old-maidish, was more of a misfit than the presumptuous and arrogant Mr Conway. Mr Conway was at least a reliable history specialist and a useful games coach. Mr Loveday was an out-moded Housemaster and an anachronism in the form-room.

Mr Loveday did not realize, until he had reached his own front door, that the core of his grievance, the slighting reference to himself and his sister as two elderly ladies, had not been quoted in detail. He wondered whether it was worth while to go back to Mr Wyck, but he decided that the Headmaster (as had happened frequently lately) was in an unsympathetic mood.

He was glad, however, that the Headmaster had taken no notice of his request to resign his post. The Roman Bath had taken most of Mr Loveday's savings, and continued to absorb a surprising and perturbing amount of his income. Boys did not come to his House as readily as they had done some twenty years previously. There were even vacant places . . .

Besides, it had perhaps given an impression of lack of keenness when he had not realized how many of his boys were being coached for School boxing.

'I must get myself abreast of these things,' thought Mr Loveday. 'But, dear me, there seems so much to do and to think about these days! Food, the rationing system, a catering licence, the constant supervision of coal supplies, the cost of electric light . . .' Depressed, he shrugged off his gown, and then pulled it on again. He was due in form in ten minutes' time and had mislaid his mark book.

*

'Hook him, man, hook him with your right!' said Mr Conway. Damn that old idiot Loveday! If only he could be persuaded or forced to retire, there might be some chance of putting in for his House and getting married. The governors did not approve of their junior masters getting married, but they wanted their Housemasters to be able to import unpaid housekeepers! 'Now push out your left! That's better. No, keep away from him, idiot! He's heavier than you! Feel for it! Feel for it! Now – ! Ah! That's the stuff! Jab! Jab ! Good Lord, you're not patting a dog! Hit out, man! Ah, serve you right! You ran right on to that one. All right. Gong them, Carter. That'll do. Get a quick shower and a good rub down, and then get some clothes on, both of you.'

That old idiot would have complained by now to Wyck. And there was that yellow swine Kay. He was married already. The boys did not like him much, it was true, but he ran his blasted O.T.C. pretty well, and the governors liked it. Fine old crusted Tories to a man, and liked the thought of boys playing at soldiers. And Semple, pious prig, was on his side. And Semple's uncle was chairman of the governing body this year. And Semple was fond of old Loveday and had looked pretty sick last night in the Common Room. Damn Semple! He was after Marion, too. It might turn into a sort of comic-opera rivalry between them. 'You can't have the man and the money too!' Ah, but you could have the woman and the House. And Marion, as old Pearson's daughter, would be smiled upon, without doubt, by the governing body. Whoever got her would certainly get Loveday's House when the old fool thought fit to retire.

Yes, he'd been wrong to play Semple's game by taking a rise out of Loveday. Marion would be sure to hear of it and would think it rather a rotten thing to do. Perhaps it was, in a way. The old man could not help being three- quarters senile.

Mr Conway kicked a pair of gym shoes irritably under a balancing form, pulled off his white sweater, and put on his pullover and a jacket. He exchanged his sneakers for walking shoes, and went off to have his tea.

Just as he reached the gymnasium door a handsome and beautifully built boy of about fifteen came crashing into him.

'Sorry, sir!' he gasped. 'Beastly sorry, sir!'

'You bring me a hundred lines and look where you're going next time!' yelled Mr Conway.

'Yes, sir. Please, sir, could you come, sir? There's a cad outside, sir, trying to throttle Scrape.'

'Why on earth couldn't you say so at first?' demanded Mr Conway. He broke into a run, the youth cantering lightly at his heels.

4. Noblesse Oblige

*

Depend upon it, we will deal like Men of Honour.

IBID. (Act 3, Scene 6)

IN nearly every school there is at least one licensed eccentric. Martin, of Tom Brown's Schooldays, is a classic example. The position of school madman – envious in its way – was held at Spey by Scrupe, of Mr Mayhew's House. Scrupe was sixteen and a half, and owing to the fact that he found it impossible (or so he had informed Mr Conway, who taught the subject) to concentrate on Latin because he had been brought up to speak Spanish, he had been removed from the Classical side and set to study Economics with Mr Kay and Mathematics with an unorthodox little man much beloved by the Old Boys.

This gentleman's name was Mr Reeder. He was apt to become bored during Maths lessons, finding boys slow and their imaginations limited. As a rule, therefore, he could be relied on for entertainment. The red herring was seldom dangled before him in vain.

'Sir,' said Scrupe to Mr Reeder, during the week following the outing of Merrys and Skene, 'what are the statistics for murder in this county?'

'They will increase by one, if you ask silly questions,' said Mr Reeder. 'And, by the way, what is all this about you and a stolen cockerel?'

'Oh that, sir?' said Scrupe easily. 'Yes, that was very unfortunate. The farmer was under a misapprehension. It was not I who stole his cockerel.'

'Why should he have fastened on you, then?'