The Master of the Shell | Page 6

he entered upon his duties, a nervous-looking man called to see him. It was Mr. Moss, the late master.
"I hear you have been appointed to my house," he said, by way of explanation, "and I thought it would be only friendly to call and tell you the sort of thing you are to expect when you go there."
"Thanks, very much," said Railsford, with a smile of the corner of his mouth.
"You may be made of cast iron, or be possessed of the patience of a Job," began this cheery adviser. "If so, you're all right. I wasn't either."
"Did you find the boys unmanageable?"
"No--not more than other boys--all boys, of course, are the sworn foes of law and order, and nobody imagines anything else. No, your difficulties, if you have anything like my luck, will be more with your colleagues than your subjects."
"And how do they make themselves objectionable?" asked the new master, rather contemptuously.
Mr. Moss did not miss the tone of this question, and fired up himself.
"Of course, if you don't mind being systematically snubbed at head-quarters--thwarted and slandered by your fellow-masters--baulked in every attempt to improve the condition either of your house or the school--and misrepresented and undermined in your influence among your boys, you may go up and enjoy it. I didn't. That's why I left."
"At any rate, I have one friend among the masters--Grover."
"Oh, poor Grover. He is the only master who can get on at all, and he does so by effacing himself on every possible occasion, and agreeing with everybody."
"Not a very noble character to hear of one's friend," said Railsford, who was beginning to get tired of this jeremiad.
"I don't blame him; he can stand more than you or I can."
"That, I suppose, is meant for a compliment to me?" said Railsford, laughing. "You think, then, I would be wise to back out before it is too late?"
"I don't say that, only--"
"Only you pity me. Thanks, very much."
That evening Railsford sent a line to Grover:--
"Tell me in two words why Moss left Grandcourt."
A telegram came next morning, "Incompatibility of temper."
Whereat the new master chuckled, and dismissed the lugubrious ex-master and his friendly warnings from his mind. But although the gloomy prognostications of his Job's comforters failed in the least to depress his spirits, one very small cloud hovered occasionally on the horizon. This was the attitude of his worthy and respected prospective pupil and brother-in-law, Arthur Herapath. That young gentleman, who had been prudently kept in the dark while term lasted, was, as may be imagined, considerably astounded on arriving home to be met with the news that the new master of the Shell at Grandcourt was to be Mark Railsford.
"What a lark!" he exclaimed.
Now, genial as the remark was, the tone in which it was uttered was not calculated to inspire confidence in the breasts of those to whom it was addressed. There was more of enjoyment in it than respect. Yet boys will be boys, and who can gauge the depths of a nature below the smiles that ripple on the surface?
It was little incidents like these which occasionally suggested to Railsford, far more forcibly than the lugubrious warnings of his officious friends, that the task before him at Grandcourt would tax his powers considerably. But, on the whole, he rejoiced that all would not be plain-sailing at first, and that there was no chance of his relapsing immediately into the condition of a humdrum pedagogue.
The Christmas holidays slipped away only too fast for Arthur and for Daisy. Mark, much as he felt the approaching separation from his betrothed, could not suppress a slight feeling of exultation as the day drew near when he was to "go, see, and conquer" at Grandcourt. His three idle years made the prospect of hard work now welcome; and the importance which everyone else attached to his new duties made him doubly keen for a fray on which so many eyes were turned.
Dr. Ponsford had suggested, in terms which amounted to a mandate, that the new master might find it convenient to arrive at Grandcourt a day before the school returned, in order to take possession of his quarters and acquaint himself with the details of his coming duties. This arrangement was not altogether satisfactory, for it deprived Mark of the pleasure of his future brother-in-law's escort, which was a great loss, and also of the prospect of finding Grover at his journey's end, on which he had reckoned with some confidence. However, it was only the difference of a day, and during that day he would at least do his utmost to make a favourable impression on his chief. So, with a heart full of confidence, and a cab full of luggage, he set out gaily on his new career.
"Good-bye, Mark. You'll be good to