“They know we can’t help me,” said Herrick. “But Burgess can be helped, and he looks himself as if he wished he looked older.”
“Well, his heart is in the right place,” said Bumpus.
“And after all, they would know that we shouldn’t have anyone really mature for him,” said Emily. “But he copies Nicholas, so that they know that Nicholas’ influence permeates the school; and that is bad. And then they ask, and find it doesn’t, and that again is bad.”
“Fletcher is to give the prizes,” said Herrick. “It has to be a parson. I don’t know why.”
“Well, God does like reward,” said Bumpus.
“It is a great thing that Burgess at his age isn’t a parson,” said Masson.
“It is a great success for him. I wonder if he thought of it, himself,” said Bumpus. “Of course he did not have to think of it.”
“I wish Mr. Merry did not look so affectionately at the boys,” said Emily. “It makes Nicholas look so dreadful by comparison. And we don’t realize how bad I look by Mrs. Merry; so unmotherly. And suppose anyone should take Mr. Burgess for a boy, or forget Miss Basden!”
“Does Miss Basden not like being forgotten?” said Masson, as one not disliking this himself.
“She is morbid about it,” said Bumpus. “I have not spoken to her, but I can see that.”
“Don’t be superior to women, and more so to those who earn their living, Dickie,” said Emily. “It is so revealing of you. And not spoken to Miss Basden, when but for her you would have to support most of your nearest friends! You would find it so difficult to do it too. I believe Miss Basden does it.”
“Will there be a great crowd?” said Herrick.
“Well, we ought to want that,” said Masson.
“How generously you both identify yourself with us!” said Emily. “Most of the parents are coming. I hope it doesn’t mean that they want to look into things, or reassure themselves, or anything like that.”
“Will you make the speech on the spur of the moment, Herrick?” said Masson.
“Nicholas can’t spend his genius on speeches for boys,” said Emily. “He has his book to give it to.”
“People don’t really make speeches on the spur of the moment,” said Bumpus. “Merry will make it.”
“I thought an outsider always made the speech,” said Masson; “that the schoolmaster’s business was not to praise his own school, and all that.”
“You thought Merry’s business was not that?” said Bumpus. “Then what did you think his business was?”
“You know an outsider is not called in here to do anything,” said Emily. “Mr. Merry does it. And you should not call Nicholas an outsider, when our business today is to prove that he is not one. Now we must go and serve under Mr. Merry.”
“They also serve who only stand and wait,” said Bumpus.
“Don’t notice it when you see Nicholas not being himself,” said Emily. “His real self really doesn’t do. And go up and shake hands with Miss Basden. And don’t be arch and joking with Mr. Burgess, as if he were young.”
Mrs. Merry and Miss Basden were talking in easy tones, with a nervous unconsciousness of what they said.
“How do you do, Miss Herrick?” said Mrs. Merry.
“Oh, Mrs. Merry, what are you doing?” said Miss Basden.
“Poor Miss Herrick, to be forgotten!” said Mr. Burgess, advancing to Emily with his hands under his gown, and drawing Mr. Merry’s glance.
“Oh, really, Miss Herrick! Well! What am I doing? It is the idea of shaking hands with so many people.”
“Yes, Mother,” said Mr. Merry, uneasily.
Herrick stepped on to the platform in gown and hood, his expression inviting attention to himself. Mr. Burgess, conscious of his similar garb, took his place near him, and exchanged an easy word. Mr. Merry, who had no right to a gown and hood, stepped up after them, and stood surveying his pupils with an air of fond understanding of boys.
“Now I am not much of a hand at speechmaking. What I do is to teach my boys, and be with my boys, and give all my time to my boys. But what I want to say to you all is, that I am glad to see you all amongst us today; that my wife is glad, and my kind helpers are glad; and Mr. Herrick and Miss Herrick, whom you have really come to see, of course, are glad. In fact we are all glad to be together, to celebrate the good work done by our boys; by your boys, and by my boys; for I have boys, you know, though I have only girls, really, if I may be very Irish for a schoolmaster. And the prizes are not won only by those who have won them, you know, though that sounds Irish again; for we don’t overdo things in the old-fashioned way, you know. So we will see the prize-winners take their prizes, and the other prize earners”—Mr. Merry glanced with tender pride round at the boys—“show how glad they are that they have won them; which seems to be more Irish than ever.”
Mr. Merry stepped down amid clapping from the boys. Mr. Fletcher did his part with covert reference to a sheet of paper. The youngest boy presented flowers to Mrs. Merry.
Mrs. Merry took her stand behind a table furnished by a consistence of fate with cups and an urn.
“Well, Mr. Merry,” said a father, “so you haven’t put my boy among the prize-winners? Of course I don’t mean that. But he doesn’t go in for taking prizes, does he?”
“Ah, your boy,” said Mr. Merry, who knew the ill policy of honesty with parents; “and a nice boy too! No, he doesn’t go in for taking prizes. No, not yet. But I tell you what.” Mr. Merry’s voice became intimate. “If I had a boy, I should like him to be your boy. I will tell you that.”
Mr. Merry passed on, and
