Louis School Days | Page 7

so Louis allowed himself to be pushed and pulled into the crowd, and bought something he would much rather have been without, because he found it inconvenient to say no.
The two upper classes were privileged to use the largest of the class-rooms as their sitting-room in the evenings; and here Reginald introduced his brother after tea; and, when he had shown him his lessons, began to prepare his own. Most of the assembled youths were soon quietly busy, though some of the more idly disposed kept up a fire of words, while turning over leaves, and cutting pens to pieces. Among the latter class was Frank Digby, who was seldom known to be silent for a quarter of an hour, and who possessed the singular power of distracting every one's attention but his own; for, though he scarcely ever appeared to give his lessons a moment's attention, he was generally sufficiently prepared with them to enable him to keep his place in his class, which was usually two from the bottom.
Louis saw that he must give his whole mind to his work; but being unused to study in a noise, it was some time before he was well able to comprehend what he wanted to do; and found himself continually looking up and laughing at something around him, or replying to some of Frank's jokes, which were often directed to him. When, by a great exertion, he had at last forced himself to attend to Reginald's repeated warnings, and had begun to learn in earnest, the door softly opened, and the little boy he had noticed in the crowd that afternoon came in.
"Halloa! what do you want?" cried one of the seniors; "you have no business here."
"Is Edward here, Mr. Salisbury?"
"No."
"Do you know where he is, please?"
"With the doctor," replied the young gentleman.
"Oh dear!" sighed the little boy, venturing to approach the table a little nearer.
"What's the matter with you?" asked Reginald.
"I can't do this," said the child: "I wanted Edward to help me with my exercise."
"My little dear, you have just heard that sapient Fred Salisbury declare, in the most civil terms chooseable, that your fraternal preceptor, Edwardus magnus, non est inventus," said Frank, pompously, with a most condescending flourish of his person in the direction of the little boy.
"And, consequently," said the afore-mentioned Mr. Salisbury, "you have free leave to migrate to York, Bath, Jericho, or any other equally convenient resort for bores in general, and you in particular."
"Please, Mr. Digby," said the little boy, "will you just show me this?"
"Indeed I can't," said Frank; "I can't do my own, so in all reason you could not expect me to find brains for two exercises."
"Oh! please somebody show me--Dr. Wilkinson will be so angry if Mr. Norton sends me up again to-morrow."
"Will you go?" shouted Salisbury, with such deliberate energy of enunciation that Alfred shrunk back: "what's the use of your exercises, if you're shown how to do them?"
"Come here, Alfred," said Louis, softly. Alfred readily obeyed; and Louis, taking his book, began to show him what to do.
"Louis, you must not tell him word for word," said Reginald: "Hamilton wouldn't like it--he never does himself."
"But I may help him to do it for himself, may I not?" said Louis.
"Yes; but, Louis, you have not time--and he is so stupid," replied Reginald; "you won't have time to do your own."
But Louis thought he should have time for both, and, putting his arm round Alfred, he kindly and patiently set him in the way of doing his lesson properly, and then resumed his own disturbed studies.
Hardly, however, was he settled than he found himself listening to Frank, who remarked, as Alfred left the room, "We shall be sure to have 'Oars' in soon!"
"Who do you mean by Oars?" asked Louis.
"Churchill," said Reginald, laughing.
"What an extraordinary name!" said Louis.
"I say, Digby," cried a boy from the opposite side of the table, "they give you the credit of that cognomen--but we are all in the dark as to its origin."
"Like the origin of all truly great," answered Frank, "it was very simple: Churchill came one day to me with his usual 'Do tell us a bit, that's a good fellow,' and after he had badgered me some minutes, I asked him if he had not the smallest idea of his lesson--so, after looking at it another minute, he begins thus, 'Omnes, all.' 'Bravo!' replied I. 'Conticuere--What's that, Frank?' 'Were silent,' I answered: 'Go on.' After deep cogitation, and sundry hints, he discovered that tenebant must have some remote relationship to a verb signifying to hold fast, and forthwith a bright thought strikes him, and on we go: 'Intentique ora tenebant--and intently they hold their oars,' he said, exultingly. 'Very well,' quoth I, approvingly, and continued for him, 'Inde toro pater--the waters