Burr Junior | Page 2

big fellow went back to his place, amidst the humming noise made by some fifty boys, who, under the pretence of studying their lessons, kept up conversations, played at odd or even for marbles, or flicked peas at each other across the school.
"Old Reb wouldn't dare to hit him like that if the Doctor was here."
"Your father?" I said.
"No, no--old Swish! Doctor Browne."
Flick-tip.
A pea struck my companion on the ear, and dropped on the floor.
"All right, Burr," said my neighbour; "did that with a pea-shooter. I owe you one."
"I didn't do it!" I whispered eagerly.
"Of course you didn't. It was that long, thin boy yonder. His name's Burr too. He'll be Burr major now, and you'll be Burr junior."
"Oh!" I said, feeling much relieved.
"You'll have to lick him. Regular old bully. Your name's Frank, isn't it?"
"Yes."
"His name's Eliezer. We call him Eely, because he's such a lanky, thin, snaky chap. I say, his father's a tailor in Cork Street, he's got such lots of clothes in his box. He has a bob-tail coat and black kersey sit-upon-'ems, and a vesky with glass buttons, and all covered with embroidery. Such a dandy!--What's your father?"
I did not answer for a few moments, and he looked at me sharply.
"Dead," I said in a low voice.
"Oh!" said my companion softly too. "I didn't know."
"He was shot--out in India--Chillianwallah," I said.--"Died of his wounds."
"Oh, I am sorry! I wish my father had been there."
"Why?"
"He'd have cured him. There's nobody like him for wounds. But, I say, Chillian what's its name?"
"Chillianwallah," I said.
"Why, what a game! That's where old Lomax was. I remember now."
"Is Lomax one of the boys," I asked wonderingly.
"Yah! no. You saw him last night, when you came in the fly. That big chap who lives at the lodge, and helped lift down your box. He had a shot through him, and nearly had his head cut off with a tully something. He'll tell you. He has a pension, and is our drill-master, and teaches boys riding."
This was interesting, and I felt a desire to know old Lomax.
"What's your mother?" said my companion, breaking in upon my musing.
"A lady," I said proudly.
"So's mine. She's the nicest and best and--" At that moment I heard a loud, deep-throated cough, which was followed by a shuffling and stamping, as I saw all the boys rise in their places.
"Get up--get up," whispered my neighbour. "The Doctor."
I rose in my place, and saw the tall, stout, clerical-looking gentleman I had seen when I reached Meade Place on the previous night, enter by the middle door, and look gravely and smilingly round.
"Good morning, gentlemen," he said. "Good morning, Mr Rebble;" and then he marched solemnly to the pulpit on the dais, took his place, waved his hand, there was a repetition of the rustling and shuffling as the boys reseated themselves, and then the humming murmur of the school recommenced.
"I say, how old are you?" whispered my companion.
"Sixteen--nearly," I replied.
"Well, that is rum. So am I. So's lots of fellows here. Where did you go to school before?"
"Nowhere. Had a private tutor at home."
"Well, you must be a muff."
"Why?"
"To give up a private tutor all to yourself to come to school here."
"Obliged to. Uncle said I should grow into a--"
I stopped short.
"Well, what?"
"Less talking there," said Mr Rebble.
"Mind your own business," muttered my neighbour. "What did he say you'd grow into?"
"A milksop; and that I must come and rough it among other boys."
"Ha! ha! what a game! You will have to rough it too, here. I say, who's uncle?"
"My uncle, Colonel Seaborough."
"What's he?--a soldier too?"
"Yes; and I'm going to be a soldier by and by."
"Well, you are a lucky one! Wish I had an uncle who said I should be a soldier. I shall have to be a doctor, I suppose."
Just then, the tall, thin boy pointed out to me a few minutes before as Burr major, came across in a bending, undulating way, with an open book in his hand, glanced up and down to see that the Doctor and his lieutenant were both occupied, and then slipped into the seat at our long desk on the other side of my neighbour, who did not give him time to speak, but began rapidly,--
"I say, this new chap says he'll give you such a leathering if you shoot peas at him."
"Eh? Like to see him begin," said the fresh comer, with a contemptuous look at me. "I say, Senna T, you're in for it."
"What for?"
"Old Dicksee says you gave him some stuff last night, and it's made him so bad he can't learn his lessons. He's going to tell the Doctor."
"Gammon! What do you want?"
"Less talking there," said Mr Rebble sharply.
"Hark at old Reb!" whispered the new-comer. "I say, we're going to have a holiday to-day, ain't we?"
"No