Jack of Both Sides | Page 3

else did.
"A weekly boarder is a very different thing from a day-boy," Hallett
went on. "If Brady was wise he wouldn't go mixing himself up with
that lot. I shall give him a wrinkle when he comes my way. He really
looks rather decent, and he was the only one who grinned about the
bread. Of course it may have been from sheer force of habit, and
therefore no credit to him; but still, he did grin."
At this moment the discussion in both camps was brought to a sudden
finish by the return of the masters. The chief himself, Mr. West, was
the first to enter, and his eye was immediately caught by the bread
basket, which lay dejected on its side in a little pool of crumbs. He
looked suspiciously at it.
"Who threw the basket on the floor?"
Dead silence.
"Come, speak out! Someone must have done it; baskets don't jump off
tables by themselves."

After another short silence, one of the young day-pupils, who happened
to be standing close beside it, picked up the basket and placed it on the
table.
"Did you knock it down, Frere, my boy?" asked Mr. West.
"No, sir. It was one of the boarders; I don't know his name. I think he
aimed it at some of us, and it fell on the floor instead."
Frere spoke innocently. He had never been to school before, and it did
not occur to him that he was doing any harm by his frankness--least of
all, to himself! The eyes of his friends and enemies alike glared
reproachfully at him, but he did not notice them. It was Jack Brady who
broke in.
"We threw the basket at them first, sir, and it did hit them!"
"Well, never do it again, Brady. Look what a mess it's made on the
floor! And you others, you have been in the school longer; you ought to
have known better than to throw it back. You might have broken
something."
That was all. But the bitterness between the two camps was not
lessened by the incident, and Frere was liked none the better for it.
However, now work began again, and ill-feeling was shelved perforce
for the time. The sarcastic Green, for instance, found himself required
to read the part of "Nerissa" to Mason's "Portia"; and Hughes was set to
sketch Africa on the board in company with Vickers. The boys did not
know that Mr. West had given a hint to the masters to mix the new and
old element well together.
That opening day was a weary one to the nine town boys, and all but
Jack Brady, the "weekly", scampered off with boisterous delight when
school was dismissed at four o'clock.
The two chums, Ethelbert Hughes and Lewis Simmons, had been
quickly dubbed "Ethel" and "Lucy", and they did not at once appreciate

their new names. But Jack Brady, when he found himself hailed
indiscriminately as "Apple" and "Grinner", answered and laughed
without a trace of resentment. Perhaps that was why neither title stuck
to him, while Hughes and Simmons became Ethel and Lucy to
everyone, and even at last to each other.
Jack was standing at the window, watching his friends disappear in the
direction of the town, and whistling softly to keep up his spirits, when
Hallett approached him.
"Hullo, Red-cheeks, they say you're not a day-boy. I think myself that
going home once a week is a mistake; however, of course that's a
matter of opinion. But why on earth do you stick by those wretched
eight whom West has let in to spoil the school?"
"Fellow-feeling!" Jack's smile atoned for the shortness of his reply.
"Nonsense! I can't for the life of me see why you should connect
yourself with that lot at all. We've no quarrel with you."
"Nor with the others, for the matter of that," returned Jack, looking
straight into Hallett's face.
Hallett moved away with a short grunt, for want of an answer. Then,
remembering one, he turned back.
"What about young Frere? What did you think of that?"
"I'd have stopped him if I could. But he didn't mean any harm. To a
home-boy it sometimes comes natural to blurt out all you know when
you're asked a question."
Hallett shrugged his shoulders.
"You'll make a first-rate pleader one day, Brady. If ever I want
defending, I'll engage you."
"Thanks!" said Jack. "You're very kind."

CHAPTER II
TOPPIN'S DIVE
If Mr. Anderson, the junior English master, had not happened to meet
some friends as he was on his way to the swimming-bath with the boys,
this chapter would not have been written. But they were old friends,
and very unexpected, who were only visiting Elmridge for an hour or
two. So he acted as I suppose