The Master of the Shell | Page 5

last. That's a mercy. Take a tip from me, and don't seem too anxious for the place, it doesn't pay; and keep in with Ponsford."
"Will he be there? Oh, of course. What sort of men are the governors?"
"Very harmless. They'll want to know your character and your creed, and that sort of thing, and will leave all the rest to Ponsford."
Next morning at 11.30 Railsford sat with his five fellow-martyrs in the ante-room of the governors' hall at Grandcourt. They talked to one another, these six unfortunates, about the weather, about the Midland Railway, about the picture on the wall. They watched one another as, in obedience to the summons from within, they disappeared one by one through the green baize door, and emerged a quarter or half an hour later with tinged cheeks, and taking up their hats, vanished into the open-air. Railsford was the only one left to witness the exit of the fifth candidate. Then the voice from within called, "Come in, Mr. Railsford," and he knew his turn was come. It was less terrible than he expected. Half a score of middle-aged gentlemen round a table, some looking at him, some reading his testimonials, and one or two putting questions. Most of them indulgent to his embarrassment and even sharing it. Dr. Ponsford, however, massive, stern, with his shaggy eyebrows and pursed mouth, was above any such weakness.
"What have you been doing since you left college?" demanded he, presently fixing the candidate with his eyes.
It was a home question. Railsford answered it honestly, if hesitatingly.
"I was unfortunately not under the necessity of working," he added, after going through the catalogue of his abortive studies, "that is, not for my livelihood." Some of the governors nodded their heads a little, as though they recognised the misfortune of such a position.
"And what places you under that necessity now?"
"I do not expect to remain a bachelor always, sir."
Here a governor chuckled.
"Ha, ha! Hymen comes to the rescue. Wonderful the revolutions he makes in young fellows' lives."
The governor had left school fifty-five years ago, and was rather proud to have remembered who Hymen was. The doctor waited with chilling patience till the interruption was over.
"You feel yourself competent to take charge of a house of forty to fifty boys, do you? as well as to conduct a class of seventy?"
"I have thought over the matter, and tried to realise the duties, and think I can succeed."
"Quite right; I like that. No brag," said another of the governors, in an aside.
"Your temper is good, is it? you are not likely to fall out with your fellow-masters, are you?"
"Yes, that's important," interjected a governor.
"I believe I am good-tempered and patient."
"Well, Mr. Railsford, you may retire. If you are not busy elsewhere, you can remain a short time in the outer room."
Railsford retired, and for an interminable half-hour kicked his heels in the ante-chamber. He got to hate the picture on the wall and the ruthless ticking of the clock in the hall outside. Presently the door opened and his name was called. This time the spokesman was the chairman of the governors.
"We have been through your testimonials a second time, Mr. Railsford, and are satisfied with them, both those which refer to your scholarship and those which relate to your character and other qualifications. We are also glad to know from you that you have fully considered the responsibilities of this very important post, and are prepared to enter upon them in a firm yet conciliatory spirit. The governors and head-master agree with me in considering that, taken as a whole, your qualifications are higher than those of the other candidates, and they, therefore, have agreed to appoint you to the vacant post. I trust it may result in our mutual satisfaction and the good of the school."
Chapter II
"Veni, Vidi, --"
If a light heart and faith in one's own good luck are omens of success, Mark Railsford undoubtedly entered on his new duties at Grandcourt under the most favourable of auspices. It would not have been to his discredit if his light heart had acknowledged even slightly the weight of the responsibility it was undertaking. But, as a matter of fact, it was all the lighter for that very responsibility. The greater the task, he argued, the greater the achievement; and the greater the achievement, the greater the triumph. A less sanguine hero might have been daunted by the pictures with which his nervous friends did their best to damp his ardour. Grover, delighted as he was at the success of his friend's application, took care to keep the rocks ahead well above the surface in all his letters and conversations. Railsford laughed him pleasantly to scorn.
Grover's was not the only attempt made to intimidate our hero. A week or so before