Trumps | Page 7

exclaimed one day to the large boys assembled in
solemn conclave in the school-room, "that takes all the boorishness and
brutishness out of the English character? What is it that prevents the
Britishers from being servile and obsequious--traits, I tell you, boys,
unknown in England--but this splendid system of fagging? Did you
ever hear of an insolent Englishman, a despotic Englishman, a surly
Englishman, a selfish Englishman, an obstinate Englishman, a
domineering Englishman, a dogmatic Englishman? Never, boys, never.
These things are all taken out of them by fagging. It stands to reason
they should be. If I shy my boots at a fellow's head, is he likely to
domineer? If I kick a small boy who contradicts me, is he likely to be
opinionated and dogmatic? If I eat up my fag's plum-cake just sent by
his mamma, hot, as it were, from the maternal heart, and moist with a
mother's tears, is that fag likely to be selfish? Not at all. The boots, and
the kicking, and the general walloping make him manly. It teaches him
to govern his temper and hold his tongue. I swear I should like to have
a fag!" perorated Abel, meaning that he should like to be the holy office,
and to have Gabriel Bennet immediately delivered up to him for
discipline.
Once Gabriel overheard this kind of conversation in the play-ground, as
Abel Newt and some of the other boys were resting after a game at ball.
There were no personal allusions in what Abel had said, but Gabriel
took him up a little curtly:
"Pooh! Abel, how would you like to have Gyles Blanding shy his boots
at your head?"
Abel looked at him a moment, sarcastically. Then he replied:
"My young friend, I should like to see him try it. But fagging concerns
small boys, not large ones."

"Yes!" retorted Gabriel, his eyes flashing, as he kept tossing the ball
nervously, and catching it; "yes, that's the meanness of it: the little boy
can't help himself."
"By golly, I'd kick!" put in Little Malacca.
"Then you'd be licked till you dropped, my small Sir," said Abel,
sneeringly.
"Yes, Abel," replied Gabriel, "but it's a mean thing for an American
boy to want fagging."
"Not at all," he answered; "there are some young American gentlemen I
know who would be greatly benefited by being well fagged; yes, made
to lie down in the dirt and lick a little of it, and fetch and carry. And to
be kicked out of bed every morning and into bed every night would be
the very best thing that could happen to 'em. By George, I should like
to have the kicking and licking begin now!"
Gabriel had the same dislike of Abel which the latter felt for him, but
they had never had any open quarrel. Even thus far in the present
conversation there had been nothing personal said. It was only a warm
general discussion. Gabriel merely asked, when the other stopped,
"What good does the fagging do the fellow that flings the boots and
bullies the little one?"
"Good?" answered Abel--"what good does it do? Why, he has been
through it all himself, and he's just paying it off."
Abel smiled grimly as he looked round upon the boys, who did not
seem at all enthusiastic for his suggestion.
"Well," said he, "I'm afraid I shall have to postpone my millennium of
fagging. But I don't know what else will make men of you. And mark
you, my merry men, there's more than one kind of fagging;" and he
looked in a droll way--a droll way that was not in the least funny, but
made the boys all wonder what Abel Newt was up to now.

CHAPTER IV.
NIGHT.
It was already dusk, but the summer evening is the best time for play.
The sport in the play-ground at Mr. Gray's was at its height, and the hot,
eager, panting boys were shouting and scampering in every direction,
when a man ran in from the road and cried out, breathless,
"Where's Mr. Gray?"
"In his study," answered twenty voices at once. The man darted toward
the house and went in; the next moment he reappeared with Mr. Gray,
both of them running.
"Get out the boat!" cried Mr. Gray, "and call the big boys. There's a
man drowning in the pond!"
The game was over at once, and each young heart thrilled with vague
horror. Abel Newt, Muddock, Blanding, Tom Gait, Jim Greenidge, and
the rest of the older boys, came rushing out of the school-room, and ran
toward the barn, in which the boat was kept upon a truck. In a moment
the door was open, the truck run out, and all the boys took hold of the
rope. Mr. Gray and the