Digby Heathcote: The Early Days of a Country Gentleman's Son and Heir

“We will wait till about an hour before dinner-time, and then we will go and see what they have got to say for themselves,” she observed, rubbing her nose, which was a habit of hers when she was meditating on any subject. “By that hour Dr Graham will be here, and it is as well that he should receive the young gentlemen’s submission.”

Long and serious consultations were now held within the garrison. With the exception of Scarborough and his immediate companions, or his council, as he called them, all were unanimous that if terms were offered they must yield to them. Paul Newland, especially, was very strenuous on this point. “We have been great donkeys, of that there cannot be the slightest doubt; but we shall be still greater if we keep ourselves shut up here a moment longer than we can help,” he observed. “We have spent our money, we have made ourselves thoroughly uncomfortable, we have lost many a jolly good game of play, and we have obtained for ourselves a no very enviable character in the eyes of our masters, while we shall all of us go home with black marks against our names.”

“But we have been fighting for a great principle. We must remember that our honours were concerned,” answered Digby.

“Fighting! We haven’t fought at all,” returned Newland. “A great principle! I have been thinking over that point also. Our great principle should be obedience; that is one of the things we were sent to school to learn. I forget when I found it out, but I now clearly remember it, and in adhering to that, depend on it our honours were involved much more than in insisting on going out when, for some very good reason probably, Mr Sanford thought fit to keep us in. All I can say is, that I wish he was well, and could have us up and flog us all round, and so settle the matter off-hand. I certainly don’t like the thoughts of yielding to old Yates.”

A few acknowledged the justice of these opinions. It was not to be expected that many should do so. The last sentiment was reciprocated by all.

“The sooner, then, we make preparations for opening the door the better,” observed Farnham.

They possessed themselves of Spiller’s tools. That worthy, with Julian Langley, Scarborough, and a few others, were sitting up in a corner, puffing away slowly at their clay pipes, and sipping away at something which they did not wish the rest to see. They were too stupified to observe what was being done. The bars across the doors were removed; their strength had never even been tried. Then Farnham took down a shutter, and in desperation threw open the windows to let some fresh air in. Oh, how delicious and sweet it was, compared to the poisonous atmosphere they had been so long breathing.

“I, for one, vote that we all march out in order, and walk up and down in the playground till some one comes to know what we want,” exclaimed Digby, as if a bright idea had struck him. “Or, I will tell you what, I don’t mind going with a flag of truce straight up to Mr Sanford, to tell him our grievances, and to ask what terms he will give us.”

“Capital! grand! spirited!” shouted most of the fellows – at least they moaned out, for they were not in a condition to shout.

Not a moment was allowed him to recede from his offer. The largest and the least dirty white pocket-handkerchief they could find was immediately fastened on to the end of a broomstick. There was a little water remaining, in which Digby’s hands and face were washed. His hair was combed with the only pocket comb to be found in the army, and his clothes were brushed with the broom above spoken of, and his shirt-collar smoothed down as much as was practicable. Independently of his spirit and discretion, he certainly looked fatter and less pale than any of the rest, and was therefore the fittest envoy that could have been selected to give the enemy a favourable opinion of the garrison. They were, of course, not aware that Susan knew perfectly well all about them.

Digby was all ready, with his flag in his hand. He only waited for the door to be opened.

“Come,” exclaimed Ranger, “Heathcote may go on ahead as a herald, but I do feel that it will be a crying shame and disgrace if we let him go alone. We ought all to fall in, and march out into the playground to support him if necessary. As for those boozing fellows up there in the corner, they have deceived and cheated us, that is very evident. We are not bound to them; they may follow if they like.”

Perhaps Ranger was not quite right in this, though Scarborough and his set certainly did not deserve that terms should be kept with them.

The thoughts of fresh air and exercise, and the hope of bringing their present uncomfortable condition to a termination, made the great mass, without a moment’s further consideration, yield to the proposal; and, falling in together, the moment the door was opened and Digby had gone forth, they hurried out after him.

No one was in the schoolroom, but it looked as if it had been swept, the desks scraped and polished, and everything put in good order.

Out into the playground they marched, following Digby so closely that he appeared to be at their head. Ranger, Farnham, Newland, and his other chief friends kept directly behind him.

They had just reached the playground, and were facing the glass door opening from the house into it, when the door was opened, and a tall, very gentlemanly, youngish-looking man appeared at it, with Mr Moore, their favourite master, standing behind him. The stranger advanced towards them, —

“I am glad to meet you here, young gentlemen,” he said, in a very harmonious voice. “I understand that you have for some days past shut yourselves up in your play-room, in consequence, it is supposed, of your being dissatisfied with some arrangements which were made regarding you. My name is Dr Graham. I am now the master of this school, Mr Sanford having yielded his authority, with the sanction of your parents, into my hands. I shall at all times willingly listen to any complaints you have to make. Let me know the grievance which caused you to shut yourselves up as you have lately done.”

Digby, in a manly and straightforward way, told him exactly why they had thus acted.

“It was done at my request,” said Dr Graham. “I found, on inquiry, that most reprehensible practices took place on these occasions, and as I have a number of pupils of my own who will soon become the companions of some of you, I wished to stop all liberty till I could arrange how to deal with the culprits. My object, understand, is to have a school of happy, Christian, gentlemanly boys. There is no reason why all should not be very happy and contented; and I am resolved not to allow those of whom I have hopes of becoming so to suffer for those of whom I can have but very slight or no hope at all. Mr Moore, are these all the boys?”

“No, Sir, there are several absent, who, I fear, must be justly placed in the last category,” answered Mr Moore.

“Where are they, then?” asked Dr Graham, looking at Digby.

“In the play-room, Sir,” he answered, feeling as if he was acting a treacherous part towards them; but truly he could have said only what he did.

“We will go there at once, and see the state of affairs,” said the Doctor. It is possible he might have guessed, though, from Susan’s information. “Follow me, young gentlemen.”

Guided by Mr Moore, he went direct to the play-room.

What was the consternation of the wretched tipplers when, looking up, they found themselves deserted by their companions, and saw a stranger, with one of their masters, at the door. Scarborough tried to get up, after gazing round at them in a stupid, idiotic way, but fell forward on his face; while the rest sat still, stupidly glaring up at him and Mr Moore. At last, when they attempted to rise, they fell down as Scarborough had done.

“I shall have little difficulty in settling how to deal with those miserable fellows,” said the Doctor, pointing scornfully at them. “They are, I conclude, from what Mrs Pike tells me, the heads and instigators of this most sagaciously conducted and commendable rebellion. Happily, I am not bound to keep any boy with whose character I am not satisfied. Mr Moore, I must request you to take down the names of those I see in that corner of the room. I wish also to know those of the young gentlemen who met me openly in the playground, and especially of their leader, with the flag of truce. I accept it as a sign that they are sorry for what has occurred, and grant a full amnesty to all those who have followed it.”

The boys, on hearing these words, spoken in a thoroughly kind, frank manner, gave vent to their feelings in a loud hearty shout. The expressions touched all their better feelings.

“Long live Dr Graham!” cried Digby.

“May he long be our master, and we be his obedient attentive pupils!” added Newland, who had the happy knack of giving the right turn to a sentiment.

The cry was taken up by the rest of the boys, and the Doctor turned round and said, smiling, “Thank you; I am well satisfied. I feel sure that we shall always be good friends. Now go up into your rooms and get ready for dinner.”

The basins and jugs were carried upstairs, hands and faces were washed, and clothes changed, and when the dinner-bell rang, they went down into the dining-room, where Mrs Pike received them with a smile as if nothing had happened, and all declared that they never had had so good a dinner at the school – certainly, never had they been more hungry. And thus the mighty rebellion was concluded. Dr Graham had not promised that they should go out on a Saturday, so that they had gained nothing whatever by their movement.

Only Mr Moore and Mrs Pike superintended at dinner. The other three masters, they found, had gone.

“Before we separate,” said Mrs Pike, standing up when she had served out the last helping of pudding, “I have a few words to say to you. I am very sorry that you spent three days so unpleasantly as you must have done this week, because Mr Sanford had intended granting you, in consequence of his illness, half-holidays every day, and but slight tasks in the morning, till the arrival of Dr Graham, who has for some time arranged to take charge of the school. He had charged me to do my best to find you amusement. On Monday I had ordered carriages to take you to a pic-nic in Fairley Wood; Tuesday, a famous conjuror was to have come; and on Wednesday you were to have had a grand tea in the garden here, and fireworks afterwards. However, perhaps you thought yourselves better employed. All I can say is, that I am sorry for what has occurred, but intend to forget all about it; though, as those who win may laugh, I might be allowed, if I chose, to make fun of you.”

“Sold again – admirably sold!” exclaimed Farnham to Digby, as they walked into the playground. They were not much inclined to play, though, for never had they felt more weary and sleepy. Though the fresh air revived them, they heartily wished for bed-time.

It was soon whispered about that Doctor Graham had resolved on expelling Scarborough and all his set. Everybody acknowledged the justice of this decision, and rejoiced at it. The only one of the party who was allowed to remain was Julian Langley, in consequence of his having only so lately come to the school.

“Dr Graham,” repeated Digby, after he and his companions had been discussing the merits of their new master, “why, that is the very name of the master of the school to which Arthur Haviland was going. I wonder where he comes from. All I can say is, that he seems a first-rate man, and sensible and kind, and so Arthur said his master was.”

Two days after this, Dr Graham announced that the pupils from his former school were about to arrive. In the evening, four carriages full of them drew up at the door. Digby looked eagerly out, and there, sure enough, in the very first was Arthur Haviland. How delighted were the two friends to see each other. The surprise was mutual, for neither of them were certain that they were to meet. The Doctor, knowing how certain any change of this sort was to unsettle boys’ minds, had not told them till the last moment the arrangements which had been made. The two sets of schoolboys became acquainted with each other with great rapidity. The Doctor had won the hearts of nearly all his new pupils by his clemency and urbanity, while what was still more satisfactory, all his old ones spoke in the warmest terms of him.

A new system was at once inaugurated. A first master, a very gentlemanly man and a good scholar, took the place of the little-loved Mr Yates; Mr Moore kept his post as second master; the third, who took the place of the ill-conditioned Mr Tugman, was a very nice, quiet-looking lad, with whom at first the boys thought they could do anything; but they very soon found that beneath that calm countenance there dwelt a most determined spirit; that he had lately left a first-rate public school, where he had been praeposter of his house, and that he was thoroughly up to all the ways and dodges of boys. He had been for a short time at one of the Universities, which his want of means had compelled him to leave, and thus he had become an usher for the sake of saving money to take him there again. He worked hard himself, and he was determined that those under him should work hard also. The writing-master was also a gentleman, for Dr Graham felt the importance of having a good example set, even in minute points, to those whom he wished to see turn out gentlemen in every respect. He had explained to Mrs Pike his wish that all the provisioning and household arrangements should be established on the most liberal footing. I want the boys to have as much and as pleasant food as they would have at home, so that they may have no cause to regret coming here, because they are no longer to have the nice things to which they have been accustomed. Teacups and saucers, and spoons, and plates, and knives, were introduced at breakfast and tea, so that the boys might spread their own bread with butter, or honey, or marmalade. At dinner, too, the usual arrangements of a gentleman’s dining table were introduced – plated spoons and forks, and glass tumblers – and there were fruit tarts and puddings, and vegetables; indeed, an abundance of such things as were in season.

“These may appear trifles, Mrs Pike,” observed the Doctor, when that thrifty housewife ventured to expostulate with him; “but they have a considerable effect on boys. I doubt whether they will very much increase your weekly bills, and I am certain that they will assist to give the lads gentlemanly tastes, and assist me very considerably in managing them. It is, believe me, much easier to govern a school of gentlemanly boys than one full of those of an opposite character. My great wish is, to be able to place perfect confidence in their words. They will then require much less supervision and much less constraint. I explain this, because I think that you will aid in establishing those principles.”

“That I will, sir,” answered Mrs Pike, who was a very sensible woman, and saw at once the superiority of the Doctor’s system over that which had hitherto prevailed.

In a short time a marked difference was observed in the school, and the boys were generally infinitely happier and more contented. At the same time there were still grumblers and dissatisfied ones.

“It is all very well – a new broom sweeps clean,” said they. “Wait a little; we shall soon get back into our old ways.”

They discovered, however, that the new broom went on sweeping cleaner and cleaner, till only the bad had excuse for grumbling, because they found it difficult to indulge in their malpractices. Of course there were bad ones, even though Scarborough and his set had been expelled. Some of those the Doctor brought with him were bad, and some of those who were already in the school were so, and they very soon found each other out.

Julian Langley had plenty of companions, but still he tried very hard to win back Digby’s friendship. Had Arthur Haviland not been there he might have succeeded; but Arthur had gained a perfect insight into Julian’s character, and considered him a very dangerous companion for Digby. Julian very soon discovered now much Arthur disliked him, and determined to have his revenge.

From the time of Dr Graham’s arrival the whole system of the school was completely changed. There was a much stricter supervision, at the same time that there was much more real liberty. Bullying – that is to say, glaring tyranny and cruelty – was almost entirely put a stop to; only the would-be bullies and the very bad ones any longer could in any way complain. The Saturday excursions were once more allowed; but the boys were especially charged not to trespass, or to do any damage; and they had to pass their words that they would adhere strictly to the rules laid down. A monitorial system was established. Six boys of different ages were selected, for their general good conduct, discretion, temper, and acknowledged high principles, to act as monitors. They had a number of privileges as a recompense for the onerous duties with which they were entrusted, and which they were never known to neglect. When any distant excursion was made, one of the monitors was obliged to accompany the party, and to give a full account of all their proceedings. One of the other boys was also frequently called on to do the same. On all half-holidays they might obtain leave to go out where they liked, provided every two hours they came back and reported themselves, so that no one could go to any great distance; nor could, as before, an ill-conditioned fellow like Scarborough spend his time in smoking and drinking without being found out. Digby liked the change excessively; he was constantly with Arthur Haviland, and benefited much by his companionship; for, in truth, a high-principled boy has great power in influencing his friends and associates for good. Julian sneered, but sneered in vain, and at last ceased to try and tempt Digby to join him in his malpractices. Still Digby found it very difficult to keep altogether aloof from his former associate; there had been no cause of quarrel between them, nothing that he could well allege to separate them; and even the occasional remarks which Julian let fall, and the knowledge of the mode in which he spent his time, did harm, and might have had a serious effect on him, as it had undoubtedly on some of his other schoolfellows.

Chapter Seventeen

Conclusion

In a well-ordered school there is naturally less scope for adventure than in an ill-conducted one – such as Grangewood had become during poor Mr Sanford’s illness.

Dr Graham was strict and regular, but the boys were far happier than they had ever been before. He encouraged games of every description, and all sorts of athletic exercises. He had gymnastic poles erected; a large swimming-place made, into which a stream of clear water, hitherto of little use, was conducted. He had also some boats built, and launched on a large lake in the neighbourhood, which became the constant resort of the boys during the half-holidays in summer. He did not allow them to boat, however, till they had learned to swim well, not only without their clothes, but in them. They were instructed also by an old sailor, who lived near Grangewood, not only in rowing, but in sailing a boat. Here Digby, from the knowledge he had gained from Toby Tubb, found himself superior to nearly all the other fellows.

He soon gained as much popularity among the boys who had come with Dr Graham as among his former companions. This might have been a dangerous circumstance, had it not been for the good counsels of Arthur Haviland, who, whenever he could do so judiciously, entreated him not to assume on the popularity he was gaining.

“If you do, my dear Digby,” said Arthur, “I shall almost wish that such a fellow as you describe Scarborough to be was here to bully you a little every now and then. I am certain a long course of prosperity is injurious to every one, unless he is reminded on how slight a tenure he holds it, and learns both to appreciate and be grateful for it.”

Hard as this lesson was to learn, Digby acknowledged its importance, and did his best not to let pride get the better of him. Julian Langley, not intentionally, perhaps, was continually trying to counteract the good advice which Arthur gave him. Finding that he himself was sinking down in the estimation of his schoolfellows, he thought that he might help himself up again by clinging closer than he had for some time done to Digby. He had found that it did not answer to attempt to lead him directly to do what was wrong; so in order to regain his confidence, he set to work to flatter him in every way he could think of. He was continually saying, “My dear Digby, you know a popular fellow like you can do anything. I wonder you read so hard; you have talents enough to help you without that. Besides, what does an English country gentleman want with reading?”

Digby was not altogether insensible to flattery; and though he did not trust Julian, he did not exert himself to shake him off so completely as it would have been wise for him to have done.

Dr Graham was not influenced by any narrow-minded, foolish prejudices, and he took care that so strict a supervision should be exercised over the boys from one end of the twenty-four hours to the other, that no glaring malpractices could exist long undetected. Altogether, when the end of the half came, and Digby went home once more for his holidays, he gave so favourable a report of the school, that, supported in it as he was by Arthur Haviland, Mr and Mrs Heathcote resolved to send Gusty back with him. He had now, he felt, a very important responsibility thrown upon him, and he resolved to fulfil it to the utmost of his power.

Except for the sake of being with his parents and sisters, he could not help confessing that he liked school as much as home, and in high spirits, with little Gusty under his charge, he returned to Grangewood. They had not been there long before Julian Langley made a dead set at Gusty, as if he wished to establish himself as his protector and counsellor. At first Digby scarcely perceived this; then, when he at length saw Julian frequently doing something or other for Gusty, he thought it was very kind in him to take so much pains about the little fellow. It did not occur to him, indeed, that Julian was doing his brother any harm, till one day Gusty made use of some expressions and uttered some sentiments which he felt sure must have been learned from Julian. Happily, his eyes were at once opened, and he felt that, if he would save his brother from the contaminating influence of his own former companion, he must withdraw him at once from his society. He knew enough of human nature to be aware that if he at once denounced Julian as a dangerous character, Gusty would, as the moth is to the candle, very likely be attracted towards him, and he would probably have answered – “Why may I not talk to him? He is a friend of yours, I thought, and you don’t seem to fancy that he can do you harm.”

In his difficulty he went to Arthur Haviland, who undertook to speak to Gusty, and to warn him against Julian.

Arthur did so at once. He was one of those people who feel that if a thing is to be done, the sooner it is done the better.

Gusty cried at first, and seemed very unhappy, but at last acknowledged that Julian had invited him to join some expedition or other, but that he had not promised, because he thought that it was not quite right, but that he feared he should, notwithstanding this, have ultimately done so.

“I will not ask you what it is,” said Arthur; “but promise me that you will not be tempted to have anything to do with the matter.”

Gusty easily promised this, and Arthur was thankful that he had not delayed speaking.

Gusty slept in his brother’s room. Two nights after this, another boy in the same room was seen to leave it with his shoes in his hands. Digby was awake, but said nothing. He saw Gusty lift up his head. The other boy as he passed him whispered, “little Sneak,” and went on.

Gusty answered, “I am not; you had better stay.” But his advice was unheeded.

Digby could not conceive what was going to happen, but felt very glad that Gusty had refused to join the expedition, or meeting, or whatever it was which was taking place. He tried to keep awake to speak to Hanson, the boy who had gone out, to ascertain what he had been doing, and he was sorry that he had not attempted to stop him by dissuading him from doing what he had proposed. At last, however, he fell asleep, and as he did not awake till the bell rang, he had not time, after he was dressed, to speak to Hanson. The second bell rang, and the boys hurried into school.