Mike by Pelham Grenville Wodehouse (dar e dil novel online reading .TXT) đ
- Author: Pelham Grenville Wodehouse
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insult. At close of play he sought Burgess.
Burgess, besides being captain of the eleven, was also head of the
school. He was the man who arranged prefectsâ meetings. And only a
prefectsâ meeting, thought Firby-Smith, could adequately avenge his
lacerated dignity.
âI want to speak to you, Burgess,â he said.
âWhatâs up?â said Burgess.
âYou know young Jackson in our house.â
âWhat about him?â
âHeâs been frightfully insolent.â
âCheeked you?â said Burgess, a man of simple speech.
âI want you to call a prefectsâ meeting, and lick him.â
Burgess looked incredulous.
âRather a large order, a prefectsâ meeting,â he said. âIt has to be a
pretty serious sort of thing for that.â
âFrightful cheek to a school prefect is a serious thing,â said
Firby-Smith, with the air of one uttering an epigram.
âWell, I supposeâWhat did he say to you?â
Firby-Smith related the painful details.
Burgess started to laugh, but turned the laugh into a cough.
âYes,â he said meditatively. âRather thick. Still, I meanâA prefectsâ
meeting. Rather like crushing a thingummy with a what-dâyou-call-it.
Besides, heâs a decent kid.â
âHeâs frightfully conceited.â
âOh, wellâWell, anyhow, look here, Iâll think it over, and let you
know to-morrow. Itâs not the sort of thing to rush through without
thinking about it.â
And the matter was left temporarily at that.
MIKE CREATES A VACANCY
Burgess walked off the ground feeling that fate was not using him
well.
Here was he, a well-meaning youth who wanted to be on good terms with
all the world, being jockeyed into slaughtering a kid whose batting he
admired and whom personally he liked. And the worst of it was that he
sympathised with Mike. He knew what it felt like to be run out just
when one had got set, and he knew exactly how maddening the Gazekaâs
manner would be on such an occasion. On the other hand, officially he
was bound to support the head of Wainâs. Prefects must stand together
or chaos will come.
He thought he would talk it over with somebody. Bob occurred to him.
It was only fair that Bob should be told, as the nearest of kin.
And here was another grievance against fate. Bob was a person he did
not particularly wish to see just then. For that morning he had posted
up the list of the team to play for the school against Geddington, one
of the four schools which Wrykyn met at cricket; and Bobâs name did
not appear on that list. Several things had contributed to that
melancholy omission. In the first place, Geddington, to judge from the
weekly reports in the Sportsman and Field, were strong this
year at batting. In the second place, the results of the last few
matches, and particularly the M.C.C. match, had given Burgess the
idea that Wrykyn was weak at bowling. It became necessary, therefore,
to drop a batsman out of the team in favour of a bowler. And either
Mike or Bob must be the man.
Burgess was as rigidly conscientious as the captain of a school eleven
should be. Bob was one of his best friends, and he would have given
much to be able to put him in the team; but he thought the thing over,
and put the temptation sturdily behind him. At batting there was not
much to choose between the two, but in fielding there was a great deal.
Mike was good. Bob was bad. So out Bob had gone, and Neville-Smith, a
fair fast bowler at all times and on his day dangerous, took his place.
These clashings of public duty with private inclination are the
drawbacks to the despotic position of captain of cricket at a public
school. It is awkward having to meet your best friend after you have
dropped him from the team, and it is difficult to talk to him as if
nothing had happened.
Burgess felt very self-conscious as he entered Bobâs study, and was
rather glad that he had a topic of conversation ready to hand.
âBusy, Bob?â he asked.
âHullo,â said Bob, with a cheerfulness rather over-done in his anxiety
to show Burgess, the man, that he did not hold him responsible in
any way for the distressing acts of Burgess, the captain. âTake a
pew. Donât these studies get beastly hot this weather. Thereâs some
ginger-beer in the cupboard. Have some?â
âNo, thanks. I say, Bob, look here, I want to see you.â
âWell, you can, canât you? This is me, sitting over here. The tall,
dark, handsome chap.â
âItâs awfully awkward, you know,â continued Burgess gloomily; âthat
ass of a young brother of yoursâSorry, but he is an ass,
though heâs your brotherâ-â
âThanks for the âthough,â Billy. You know how to put a thing nicely.
Whatâs Mike been up to?â
âItâs that old fool the Gazeka. He came to me frothing with rage, and
wanted me to call a prefectsâ meeting and touch young Mike up.â
Bob displayed interest and excitement for the first time.
âPrefectsâ meeting! What the dickens is up? Whatâs he been doing?
Smith must be drunk. Whatâs all the row about?â
Burgess repeated the main facts of the case as he had them from
Firby-Smith.
âPersonally, I sympathise with the kid,â he added, âStill, the Gazeka
is a prefectâ-â
Bob gnawed a pen-holder morosely.
âSilly young idiot,â he said.
âSickening thing being run out,â suggested Burgess.
âStillâ-â
âI know. Itâs rather hard to see what to do. I suppose if the Gazeka
insists, oneâs bound to support him.â
âI suppose so.â
âAwful rot. Prefectsâ lickings arenât meant for that sort of thing.
Theyâre supposed to be for kids who steal buns at the shop or muck
about generally. Not for a chap who curses a fellow who runs him out.
I tell you what, thereâs just a chance Firby-Smith wonât press the
thing. He hadnât had time to get over it when he saw me. By now heâll
have simmered down a bit. Look here, youâre a pal of his, arenât you?
Well, go and ask him to drop the business. Say youâll curse your
brother and make him apologise, and that Iâll kick him out of the team
for the Geddington match.â
It was a difficult moment for Bob. One cannot help oneâs thoughts, and
for an instant the idea of going to Geddington with the team, as he
would certainly do if Mike did not play, made him waver. But he
recovered himself.
âDonât do that,â he said. âI donât see thereâs a need for anything of
that sort. You must play the best side youâve got. I can easily talk
the old Gazeka over. He gets all right in a second if heâs treated the
right way. Iâll go and do it now.â
Burgess looked miserable.
âI say, Bob,â he said.
âYes?â
âOh, nothingâI mean, youâre not a bad sort.â With which glowing
eulogy he dashed out of the room, thanking his stars that he had won
through a confoundedly awkward business.
Bob went across to Wainâs to interview and soothe Firby-Smith.
He found that outraged hero sitting moodily in his study like Achilles
in his tent.
Seeing Bob, he became all animation.
âLook here,â he said, âI wanted to see you. You know, that frightful
young brother of yoursâ-â
âI know, I know,â said Bob. âBurgess was telling me. He wants
kicking.â
âHe wants a frightful licking from the prefects,â emended the
aggrieved party.
âWell, I donât know, you know. Not much good lugging the prefects into
it, is there? I mean, apart from everything else, not much of a catch
for me, would it be, having to sit there and look on. Iâm a prefect,
too, you know.â
Firby-Smith looked a little blank at this. He had a great admiration
for Bob.
âI didnât think of you,â he said.
âI thought you hadnât,â said Bob. âYou see it now, though, donât you?â
Firby-Smith returned to the original grievance.
âWell, you know, it was frightful cheek.â
âOf course it was. Still, I think if I saw him and cursed him, and
sent him up to you to apologiseâHow would that do?â
âAll right. After all, I did run him out.â
âYes, thereâs that, of course. Mikeâs all right, really. It isnât as
if he did that sort of thing as a habit.â
âNo. All right then.â
âThanks,â said Bob, and went to find Mike.
*
The lecture on deportment which he read that future All-England
batsman in a secluded passage near the junior day-room left the latter
rather limp and exceedingly meek. For the moment all the jauntiness
and exuberance had been drained out of him. He was a punctured
balloon. Reflection, and the distinctly discouraging replies of those
experts in school law to whom he had put the question, âWhat dâyou
think heâll do?â had induced a very chastened frame of mind.
He perceived that he had walked very nearly into a hornetsâ nest, and
the realisation of his escape made him agree readily to all the
conditions imposed. The apology to the Gazeka was made without
reserve, and the offensively forgiving, say-no-more-about-it-but-take
care-in-future air of the head of the house roused no spark of
resentment in him, so subdued was his fighting spirit. All he wanted
was to get the thing done with. He was not inclined to be critical.
And, most of all, he felt grateful to Bob. Firby-Smith, in the course
of his address, had not omitted to lay stress on the importance of
Bobâs intervention. But for Bob, he gave him to understand, he, Mike,
would have been prosecuted with the utmost rigour of the law. Mike
came away with a confused picture in his mind of a horde of furious
prefects bent on his slaughter, after the manner of a stage âexcited
crowd,â and Bob waving them back. He realised that Bob had done him a
good turn. He wished he could find some way of repaying him.
Curiously enough, it was an enemy of Bobâs who suggested the
wayâBurton, of Donaldsonâs. Burton was a slippery young gentleman,
fourteen years of age, who had frequently come into contact with
Bob in the house, and owed him many grudges. With Mike he had always
tried to form an alliance, though without success.
He happened to meet Mike going to school next morning, and unburdened
his soul to him. It chanced that Bob and he had had another small
encounter immediately after breakfast, and Burton felt revengeful.
âI say,â said Burton, âIâm jolly glad youâre playing for the first
against Geddington.â
âThanks,â said Mike.
âIâm specially glad for one reason.â
âWhatâs that?â inquired Mike, without interest.
âBecause your beast of a brother has been chucked out. Heâd have been
playing but for you.â
At any other time Mike would have heard Bob called a beast without
active protest. He would have felt that it was no business of his to
fight his brotherâs battles for him. But on this occasion he deviated
from his rule.
He kicked Burton. Not once or twice, but several times, so that
Burton, retiring hurriedly, came to the conclusion that it must be
something in the Jackson blood, some taint, as it were. They were
all beasts.
*
Mike walked on, weighing this remark, and gradually made up his mind.
It must be remembered
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