The Cock-House at Fellsgarth | Page 5

came you to lose your way downstairs?"
Fisher minor owned himself utterly unable to account for the misadventure, and discreetly remained silent until the signal was given to return thanks and separate every boy to his own house.
As he was wandering across the court, very dismal and apprehensive of what more was in store for him, a lean youth with a pale face and very showily attired accosted him.
"Hullo, kid, are you a new chap?"
"Yes," replied Fisher minor, eyeing the stranger suspiciously.
"What side are you on?"
Fisher stared interrogatively.
"Well, then, are you Modern or Classic?"
"I don't know, really," said Fisher minor, wishing he knew which he ought to proclaim himself. Then making a bold venture, he said, "I believe Modern."
"Good job for you," said the youth; "saves me the trouble of kicking you. Can you lend me a bob? I'll give it you back to-morrow as soon as I've unpacked."
It did strike Fisher minor as queer that any one should pack shillings up in a trunk, but he was too pleased to oblige this important and fashionable-looking personage to raise any question.
"Yes. Can you give me change out of a half-crown? Or you can pay me the lot back to-morrow, I shan't be wanting it till then," said he.
"All serene, kid; I'm glad you are our side. I shall be able to give you a leg-up with the fellows. Whose house are you in?"
"Wakefield's, the same as my brother."
"What--then you must be a Classic! They're all Classics at Wakefield's. Why can't you tell the truth when you're asked, instead of a howling pack of lies?"
"I didn't know, really, I thought--"
"Come, that's a good one. Any idiot knows what side he's on at Fellsgarth."
Fisher minor was greatly confused to stand convicted thus of greenness.
"You see," said he, putting on a little "side" to cover his shame, "I was bound to be stuck on the same side as my brother, you know."
"Nice for you. Not a gentleman among them. All paupers and prigs," said this young Modern, waxing eloquent. "You'll suit them down to the ground." Considering that Fisher minor had just lent the speaker half a crown, these taunts struck him as not exactly grateful. At the same time he writhed under the reproach, and felt convinced that Classics were not at all the "form" at Fellsgarth.
"Why," pursued the other, pocketing his coin in order to release his hands for a little elocution, "we could boy 'em up twice over. The workhouse isn't in it with Wakefield's. There's not a day but they come cadging to us, wanting to borrow our tin, or our grub, or something. There, look at that chap going across there! He's one of 'em. Regular casual-ward form about him. He's the meanest, stingiest lout in all Fellsgarth."
"Why," exclaimed Fisher minor, looking in alarm towards this prodigy of baseness, "why, that's--that's Fisher, my brother!"
The Modern youth's jaw fell with a snap, and his cheeks lost what little colour they had.
"What? Why didn't you tell me! Look here, you needn't tell him what I said. It was quite between ourselves, you know. I must be cutting, I say. See you again some day."
And he vanished, leaving Fisher minor considerably more bewildered, and poorer by a cool half-crown, than he had been five minutes ago.
CHAPTER TWO.
LAMB'S SINGING.
Wakefield's house, as Fisher minor entered it under his brother's wing, hardly seemed to the new boy as disreputable a haunt as his recent Modern friend had led him to expect. Nor did the sixty or seventy fellows who clustered in the common room strike him as exactly the lowest stratum of Fellsgarth society. Yorke, the captain, for instance, with his serene, well-cut face, his broad shoulders and impressive voice hardly answered to the description of a lout. Nor did Ranger, of the long legs, with speed written in every inch of his athletic figure, and gentleman in every line of his face, look the sort of fellow to be mistaken for a cad. Even Fisher major, about whom the younger brother had been made to feel decided qualms, could hardly have been the hail- fellow-well-met he was with everybody, had he been all the new boy's informant had recently described him.
Indeed, Fisher minor, when presently he gathered himself together sufficiently to look round him, was surprised to see so few traces of the "casual-ward" in his new house. True, most of the fellows might be poor--which, of course, was highly reprehensible; and some of them might not be connected with the nobility, which showed a great lack of proper feeling on their part. But as a rule they held up their heads and seemed to think very well of themselves and one another; while their dress, if it was not in every case as fashionable as that of the temporary owner of Fisher minor's