The Cock-House at Fellsgarth | Page 8

minor attended to now as carefully as his nervousness would permit, and felt half amused at the thought of how comic the fellows must think him.
"Do you--" he began.
But at this point Ranger unfeelingly interrupted, and put the vocalist completely out.
"Did you say `Oh no' or `How now'?"
"Oh no," repeated the singer.
"You mean h-o-w n-o-w?"
"Oh no; it's o-h n-o."
"Thanks--sorry to interrupt. Fire away." Fisher tried to get himself back into attitude, and began again in a thin treble voice;--
Do you think I'm just as green as grass! Oh no!
Do you take me for a silly ass! Oh no! Do you think I don't know A from B! Do you think I can't tell he from she! Do you think I swallow all I see?
Oh no--not me! He was bewildered by the unearthly silence of his audience. No one stirred a muscle except Wheatfield, who was apparently wiping away a tear. Was the song too deep for them, or perhaps he did not sing the words distinctly, or perhaps they had laughed and he had not noticed? At any rate he would try the next verse, which was certain to amuse them. He looked as droll as he could, and by way of heightening the effect, stuck his two thumbs into the armholes of his waistcoat and wagged his hands in time with the song.
Do you think I lie abed all day?
Oh no! Do you guess I skate on ice in May?
Oh no! Do you think I can't tell what is what? Do you think I don't know pepper's hot? Or whereabouts my i's to dot?
Oh no, no rot!
As he concluded, Fisher minor summoned up enough resolution to shake his head and lay one finger to his nose in the most approved style of comedy, and then awaited the result.
Fellows apparently did not take in that the song was at an end, for they neither cheered nor smiled. So Fisher minor made an elaborate bow to show it was all over. The result was the same. A gloomy silence prevailed, in the midst of which the singer, never more perplexed in his life, descended from the table and proceeded to look out for the congratulations of his admirers.
"Beautiful song," said Wally, still mopping his face.
"I never thought I could be so touched by anything. We generally get comic songs on first-night."
"This is a comic one," said Fisher minor.
"Go on," said Wheatfield; "tell that to D'Arcy here--he'll believe you-- eh, D'Arcy?" D'Arcy looked mysterious.
"It's no laughing matter, young Wheatfield," said he, in a loud whisper, evidently intended for the eager ears of Fisher minor. "I heard Yorke just now ask Denton if he thought Fisher's minor was all there. Denton seemed quite cut up, and said he hadn't known it before, but it must be a great family trouble to the Fishers. It accounted for Fisher major's frequent low spirits. You know," continued D'Arcy confidentially, "I can't help myself thinking it's a little rough on Fisher major for his people to send a minor who's afflicted like this to Fellsgarth. They might at least have put him on the Modern side. He'd have been better understood there."
This speech Fisher minor listened to with growing perplexity. Was D'Arcy in jest or earnest? He seemed to be in earnest, and the serious faces of his listeners looked like it too. Had the captain really made that remark to Denton? Suppose there was something in it! Suppose, without his knowing, he was really a little queer in his head! His people might have told him of it. And Fisher major, his brother--even he hadn't heard of it! Oh dear! oh dear! How was he ever to recover his reputation for sanity? Whatever induced him to sing that song?
Poor Fisher minor devoutly wished himself home again, within reach of his mother's soothing voice and his sisters' smiles. They understood him. These fellows didn't. They knew he was not an idiot. These fellows didn't.
Further reflection was cut short by a loud call to order and cheers, as Yorke, the captain, rose to his feet.
Every one liked Yorke. As captain of the School even the Moderns looked up to him, and were forced to admit that he was a credit to Fellsgarth. In Wakefield's, his own house, he was naturally an idol. Prodigious stories were afloat as to his wisdom and his prowess. Examiners were reported to have rent their clothes in despair at his answers; and at football, rumour had it that once, in one of the out-matches against Ridgmoor, he had run the ball down the field with six of the other side on his back, and finished up with a drop at the goal from thirty yards.
But his popularity in his own house depended less on these exploits than on his general good-nature and incorruptible