The Loom of Youth | Page 7

ten hours at least he would not have to
worry about anything. He lay back in bed contentedly and listened to
the conversation. As was natural, the talk was at first only about the
holidays, but it soon drifted round to school politics, and one Bradford
began to hold forth on the composition of the Fifteen, as if he was the
captain's bosom friend. To Gordon, of course, most of the names
mentioned signified nothing. He gathered that the great Lovelace was
going to be captain and was sure to have rows with Buller the games
master, but besides this he picked up very little. Gradually the
conversation turned on individuals, and especially on a certain
Meredith, who was apparently a double-first, with a reputation that did
not end on the cricket pitch.

"You know I think Meredith goes a bit too far at times," came a voice
from the middle of the room.
Bradford rose at once. "What the hell do you mean? Meredith go too
far? Why, he is a splendid wicket-keeper, and far and away the finest
half-back in the school. You must allow a good deal to a blood like
him."
"Oh, I know he is a magnificent athlete and all that, but don't you think
he does rather a lot of harm in the House?"
"Harm? Who to?"
"Well, I mean there's Davenham now and----"
"Davenham!" came the scornful retort. "What does it matter what
happens to Davenham? He's absolutely useless to the House, rotten at
games and spends his whole time reading about fossils. Who cares a
curse about Davenham!"
"Oh, I suppose you are right, but----"
"My dear ass, of course I am right. Meredith is a simply glorious fellow.
Do you remember the way he brought down Freeman in the Two Cock?
Why, the House simply couldn't get on without him."
To Gordon all this conveyed very little. He had no idea who Meredith
or Davenham were. The only thing he realised was that for those who
wore a blue and gold ribbon laws ceased to exist. It was apparently
rather advantageous to get into the Fifteen. He had not looked on
athletics in that light before. Obviously his preparatory school had
failed singularly to keep level with the times. He had always been told
by the masters there that games were only important for training the
body. But at Fernhurst they seemed the one thing that mattered. To the
athlete all things are forgiven. There was clearly a lot to learn.
CHAPTER II

: FINDING HIS FEET
The new boy's first week at a Public School is probably the most
wretched he will ever pass in his life. It is not that he is bullied. Boots
are not shied at him when he says his prayers; he is not tossed in a
blanket; it is merely that he is utterly lonely, is in constant fear of
making mistakes, is never certain of what may happen next, and so
makes for himself troubles that do not exist. And when Gordon wrote
home to his people at the end of his second day it did not need a very
clever mother to read between the lines and see that her son was
hopelessly miserable.
His worries began at once. On the first day of term discipline is, of
course, very slack. There is only an hour's work, which is, for the most
part, spent in finding out what books are needed. There is no
preparation set for the evening, breakfast is at eight-thirty instead of
seven-forty-five, and it does not matter how late anyone comes in. And
so when, at eight o'clock, the School House butler, who had watched
many generations pass by with the same imperturbable smile, walked
down the dormitories ringing a horribly cracked bell, no one paid any
attention. There was tons of time. Ordinarily no one ever got up till the
quarter, and to-day--well, twenty past would be ample. A voice from
the end of the room muttered drowsily: "Damn that bell." But besides
that nothing happened. Gordon was fearfully perplexed. He had
expected everyone to leap out of bed, seize a towel and rush to the
shower-bath, but no one had moved. Could it be possible that they were
still asleep and had not heard the bell? It seemed incredible, but it
might be so. And if it were, ought he to wake them up? It seemed rather
cheek for a new boy, but then, supposing the whole dormitory were
late.
Greatly daring, he stretched out a hand and touched the arm of the boy
sleeping next him. The individual in question merely turned over
subconsciously and said something fierce. Gordon relapsed into a state
of terror. During the next quarter of an hour he passed through all the
miseries