Mike by Pelham Grenville Wodehouse (dar e dil novel online reading .TXT) đ
- Author: Pelham Grenville Wodehouse
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was set firmly down, and the strong right hand of Justice allowed to
put in some energetic work. His comments on the teamâs fielding that
morning were bitter and sarcastic. His eyes gleamed behind their
pince-nez.
The painful interview took place after breakfast. The head of the
house despatched his fag in search of Mike, and waited. He paced up
and down the room like a hungry lion, adjusting his pince-nez (a
thing, by the way, which lions seldom do) and behaving in other
respects like a monarch of the desert. One would have felt, looking at
him, that Mike, in coming to his den, was doing a deed which would
make the achievement of Daniel seem in comparison like the tentative
effort of some timid novice.
And certainly Mike was not without qualms as he knocked at the door,
and went in in response to the hoarse roar from the other side of it.
Firby-Smith straightened his tie, and glared.
âYoung Jackson,â he said, âlook here, I want to know what it all
means, and jolly quick. You werenât at house-fielding this morning.
Didnât you see the notice?â
Mike admitted that he had seen the notice.
âThen you frightful kid, what do you mean by it? What?â
Mike hesitated. Awfully embarrassing, this. His real reason for not
turning up to house-fielding was that he considered himself above such
things, and Firby-Smith a toothy weed. Could he give this excuse? He
had not his Book of Etiquette by him at the moment, but he rather
fancied not. There was no arguing against the fact that the head of
the house was a toothy weed; but he felt a firm conviction that
it would not be politic to say so.
Happy thought: overslept himself.
He mentioned this.
âOverslept yourself! You must jolly well not over-sleep yourself.
What do you mean by over-sleeping yourself?â
Very trying this sort of thing.
âWhat time did you wake up?â
âSix,â said Mike.
It was not according to his complicated, yet intelligible code of
morality to tell lies to save himself. When others were concerned he
could suppress the true and suggest the false with a face of brass.
âSix!â
âFive past.â
âWhy didnât you get up then?â
âI went to sleep again.â
âOh, you went to sleep again, did you? Well, just listen to me. Iâve
had my eye on you for some time, and Iâve seen it coming on. Youâve
got swelled head, young man. Thatâs what youâve got. Frightful swelled
head. You think the place belongs to you.â
âI donât,â said Mike indignantly.
âYes, you do,â said the Gazeka shrilly. âYou think the whole frightful
place belongs to you. You go siding about as if youâd bought it. Just
because youâve got your second, you think you can do what you like;
turn up or not, as you please. It doesnât matter whether Iâm only in
the third and youâre in the first. Thatâs got nothing to do with it.
The point is that youâre one of the house team, and Iâm captain of it,
so youâve jolly well got to turn out for fielding with the others when
I think it necessary. See?â
Mike said nothing.
âDoâyouâsee, you frightful kid?â
[Illustration: âDOâYOUâSEE, YOU FRIGHTFUL KID?â]
Mike remained stonily silent. The rather large grain of truth in what
Firby-Smith had said had gone home, as the unpleasant truth about
ourselves is apt to do; and his feelings were hurt. He was determined
not to give in and say that he saw even if the head of the house
invoked all the majesty of the prefectsâ room to help him, as he had
nearly done once before. He set his teeth, and stared at a photograph
on the wall.
Firby-Smithâs manner became ominously calm. He produced a
swagger-stick from a corner.
âDo you see?â he asked again.
Mikeâs jaw set more tightly.
What one really wants here is a row of stars.
*
Mike was still full of his injuries when Wyatt came back. Wyatt was
worn out, but cheerful. The school had finished sixth for the
Ashburton, which was an improvement of eight places on their last
yearâs form, and he himself had scored thirty at the two hundred and
twenty-seven at the five hundred totals, which had put him in a very
good humour with the world.
âMe ancient skill has not deserted me,â he said, âThatâs the cats. The
man who can wing a cat by moonlight can put a bullet where he likes on
a target. I didnât hit the bull every time, but that was to give the
other fellows a chance. My fatal modesty has always been a hindrance
to me in life, and I suppose it always will be. Well, well! And what
of the old homestead? Anything happened since I went away? Me old
father, is he well? Has the lost will been discovered, or is there a
mortgage on the family estates? By Jove, I could do with a stoup of
Malvoisie. I wonder if the mokeâs gone to bed yet. Iâll go down and
look. A jug of water drawn from the well in the old courtyard where my
ancestors have played as children for centuries back would just about
save my life.â
He left the dormitory, and Mike began to brood over his wrongs once
more.
Wyatt came back, brandishing a jug of water and a glass.
âOh, for a beaker full of the warm south, full of the true, the
blushful Hippocrene! Have you ever tasted Hippocrene, young Jackson?
Rather like ginger-beer, with a dash of raspberry-vinegar. Very heady.
Failing that, water will do. A-ah!â
He put down the glass, and surveyed Mike, who had maintained a moody
silence throughout this speech.
âWhatâs your trouble?â he asked. âFor pains in the back try Ju-jar. If
itâs a broken heart, Zam-bukâs what you want. Whoâs been quarrelling
with you?â
âItâs only that ass Firby-Smith.â
âAgain! I never saw such chaps as you two. Always at it. What was the
trouble this time? Call him a grinning ape again? Your passion for the
truthâll be getting you into trouble one of these days.â
âHe said I stuck on side.â
âWhy?â
âI donât know.â
âI mean, did he buttonhole you on your way to school, and say,
âJackson, a word in your ear. You stick on side.â Or did he lead up to
it in any way? Did he say, âTalking of side, you stick it on.â What
had you been doing to him?â
âIt was the house-fielding.â
âBut you canât stick on side at house-fielding. I defy any one to.
Itâs too early in the morning.â
âI didnât turn up.â
âWhat! Why?â
âOh, I donât know.â
âNo, but, look here, really. Did you simply bunk it?â
âYes.â
Wyatt leaned on the end of Mikeâs bed, and, having observed its
occupant thoughtfully for a moment, proceeded to speak wisdom for the
good of his soul.
âI say, I donât want to jawâIâm one of those quiet chaps with
strong, silent natures; you may have noticed itâbut I must put in
a well-chosen word at this juncture. Donât pretend to be dropping
off to sleep. Sit up and listen to what your kind old uncleâs got to
say to you about manners and deportment. Otherwise, blood as you are
at cricket, youâll have a rotten time here. There are some things you
simply canât do; and one of them is bunking a thing when youâre put
down for it. It doesnât matter who it is puts you down. If heâs
captain, youâve got to obey him. Thatâs discipline, that âere is. The
speaker then paused, and took a sip of water from the carafe which
stood at his elbow. Cheers from the audience, and a voice âHear!
Hear!ââ
Mike rolled over in bed and glared up at the orator. Most of his face
was covered by the water-jug, but his eyes stared fixedly from above
it. He winked in a friendly way, and, putting down the jug, drew a
deep breath.
âNothing like this old â87 water,â he said. âSuch body.â
âI like you jawing about discipline,â said Mike morosely.
âAnd why, my gentle che-ild, should I not talk about discipline?â
âConsidering you break out of the house nearly every night.â
âIn passing, rather rum when you think that a burglar would get it
hot for breaking in, while I get dropped on if I break out. Why
should there be one law for the burglar and one for me? But you were
sayingâjust so. I thank you. About my breaking out. When youâre a
white-haired old man like me, young Jackson, youâll see that there
are two sorts of discipline at school. One you can break if you feel
like taking the risks; the other you mustnât ever break. I donât know
why, but it isnât done. Until you learn that, you can never hope to
become the Perfect Wrykynian like,â he concluded modestly, âme.â
Mike made no reply. He would have perished rather than admit it, but
Wyattâs words had sunk in. That moment marked a distinct epoch in his
career. His feelings were curiously mixed. He was still furious with
Firby-Smith, yet at the same time he could not help acknowledging to
himself that the latter had had the right on his side. He saw and
approved of Wyattâs point of view, which was the more impressive to
him from his knowledge of his friendâs contempt for, or, rather,
cheerful disregard of, most forms of law and order. If Wyatt, reckless
though he was as regarded written school rules, held so rigid a
respect for those that were unwritten, these last must be things which
could not be treated lightly. That night, for the first time in his
life, Mike went to sleep with a clear idea of what the public school
spirit, of which so much is talked and written, really meant.
THE TEAM IS FILLED UP
When Burgess, at the end of the conversation in the pavilion with Mr.
Spence which Bob Jackson had overheard, accompanied the cricket-master
across the field to the boarding-houses, he had distinctly made up his
mind to give Mike his first eleven colours next day. There was only
one more match to be played before the school fixture-list was
finished. That was the match with Ripton. Both at cricket and football
Ripton was the school that mattered most. Wrykyn did not always win
its other school matches; but it generally did. The public schools of
England divide themselves naturally into little groups, as far as
games are concerned. Harrow, Eton, and Winchester are one group:
Westminster and Charterhouse another: Bedford, Tonbridge, Dulwich,
Haileybury, and St. Paulâs are a third. In this way, Wrykyn, Ripton,
Geddington, and Wilborough formed a group. There was no actual
championship competition, but each played each, and by the end of the
season it was easy to see which was entitled to first place. This
nearly always lay between Ripton and Wrykyn. Sometimes an exceptional
Geddington team would sweep the board, or Wrykyn, having beaten
Ripton, would go down before Wilborough. But this did not happen
often. Usually Wilborough and Geddington were left to scramble for the
wooden spoon.
Secretaries of cricket at Ripton and Wrykyn always liked to arrange
the date of the match towards the end of the term, so that they might
take the field with representative and not experimental teams. By July
the weeding-out process had generally finished. Besides which
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