At the end of a few days, it dawned on Prout that he moved in an atmosphere of perpetual ambush. Mysteries hedged him on all sides, warnings ran before his heavy feet, and countersigns were muttered behind his attentive back. McTurk and Stalky invented many absurd and idle phrases--catch-words that swept through the house as fire through stubble. It was a rare jest, and the only practical outcome of the Usury Commission, that one boy should say to a friend, with awful gravity, "Do you think there's much of it going on in the house?" The other would reply, "Well, one can't be too careful, you know." The effect on a house-master of humane conscience and good intent may be imagined. Again, a man who has sincerely devoted himself to gaining the esteem of his charges does not like to hear himself described, even at a distance, as "Popularity Prout" by a dark and scowling Celt with a fluent tongue. Arumor that stories--unusual stories--are told in the form-rooms, between the lights, by a boy who does not command his confidence, agitates such a man; and even elaborate and tender politeness--for the courtesy wise-grown men offer to a bewildered child was the courtesy that Stalky wrapped round Prout--restores not his peace of mind.
"The tone of the house seems changed--changed for the worse," said Prout to Harrison and Craye. "Have you noticed it?. I don't for an instant impute--"He never imputed anything; but, on the other hand, he never did anything else, and, with the best intentions in the world, he had reduced the house-prefects to a state as nearly bordering on nervous irritation as healthy boys can know. Worst of all, they began at times to wonder whether Stalky & Co. had not some truth in their often-repeated assertions that Prout was a gloomy ass.
"As you know, I am not the kind of man who puts himself out for every little thing he hears. I believe in letting the house work out their own salvation--with a light guiding hand on the reins, of course. But there is a perceptible lack of reverence---a lower tone in matters that touch the honor of the house, a sort of hardness."Oh, Prout he is a nobleman, a nobleman, a nobleman!
Our Heffy is a nobleman--
He does an awful lot, Because his popularity Oh, pop-u-pop-u-larity--His giddy popularity Would suffer did he not!
The study door stood ajar; and the song, borne by twenty clear voices, came faint from a form-room. The fags rather liked the tune; the words were Beetle's.
"That's a thing no sensible man objects to," said Prout with a lop-sided smile; "but you know straws show which way the wind blows. Can you trace it to any direct influence? I am speaking to you now as heads of the house.""There isn't the least doubt of it," said Harrison angrily. "I know what you mean, sir. It all began when Number Five study came to the form-rooms. There's no use blinkin' it, Craye. You know that, too.""They make things rather difficult for us, sometimes," said Craye. "It's more their manner than anything else, that Harrison means.""Do they hamper you in the discharge of your duties, then?""Well, no, sir. They only look on and grin--and turn up their noses generally.""Ah," said Prout sympathetically.
"I think, sir," said Craye, plunging into the business boldly, "it would be a great deal better ff they wore sent back to their study--better for the house. They are rather old to be knocking about the form-rooms.""They are younger than Orrin, or Flint, and a dozen others that I can think of.""Yes, sir; but that's different, somehow. They're rather influential. They have a knack of upsettin' things in a quiet way that one can't take hold of. At least, if one does--""And you think they would be better in their own study again?"Emphatically Harrison and Craye were of that opinion. As Harrison said to Craye, afterwards, "They've weakened our authority. They're too big to lick; they've made an exhibition of us over this usury business, and we're a laughing-stock to the rest of the school. I'm going up (for Sandhurst, understood) next term. They've managed to knock me out of half my work already with their--their lunacy. If they go back to their study we may have a little peace.""Hullo, Harrison." McTurk ambled round the corner, with a roving eye on all possible horizons. "Bearin' up, old man? That's right. Live it down! Live it down!""What d'you mean?"
"You look a little pensive," said McTurk. "Exhaustin' job superintendin' the honor of the house, ain't it? By the way, how are you off for mares'-nests?""Look here," said Harrison, hoping for instant reward. "We've recommended Prout to let you go back to your study.""The dooce you have! And who under the sun are _you_ to interfere between us and our housemaster?. Upon my Sam, you two try us very hard--you do, indeed. Of course we don't know how far you abuse your position to prejudice us with Mr. Prout; but when you deliberately stop me to tell me you've been makin' arrangements behind our back--in secret--with Prout--I--I don't know really what we ought to do.""That's beastly unfair! "cried Craye.
"It is." McTurk had adopted a ghastly solemnity that sat well on his long, lean face. "Hang it all! A prefect's one thing and an usher's another; but you seem to combine 'em. You recommend this--you recommend that! _You_ say how and when we go back to our study!""But--but--we thought you'd like it, Turkey. We did, indeed. You know you'll be ever so much more comfortable there." Harrison's voice was almost tearful.
McTurk turned away as though to hide his emotions.
"They're broke!" He hunted up Stalky and Beetle in a box-room. "They're sick!
They've been beggin' Heffy to let us go back to Number Five. Poor devils! Poor little devils!""It's the olive branch," was Stalky's comment. "It's the giddy white flag, by gum!
