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Usually they lolled in the doorway with a perfect superiority, and talked of the old "rags" and discomfitures of two years back, for the benefit of admiring listeners. "Do you remember when Mansell slept in that bed?" Gordon would say.
The next day as Gordon was walking across the courts in break "the Bull" came up to him. "Gratters, Caruthers; wasn't your fault you lost. I like a man who can fight uphill. You have got the grit well done, lad." "And yet," said Gordon to Mansell, as they passed under the school gate, "you say that man cares only for his house.
Meredith had strolled over to watch, as L-Z had drawn a bye. Mansell was in the Pavilion eating an ice. All eyes seemed on him. He had made Collins take the first ball. The start was worthy of the best School House traditions. The first ball was well outside the off-stump; it landed in the National School grounds that ran alongside of the school field. A howl of untuneful applause went up.
The seventh son was Thomas, who, being made captain of a ship in that fleet with which Sir Robert Mansell was sent against Algiers, did there shew a fortunate and true English valour. Of the three sisters I need not say more, than that they were all married to persons of worth, and plentiful fortunes; and lived to be examples of virtue, and to do good in their generations.
A question had arisen as to what book they should read that term. Everyone was shouting the name of his favourite author. "Let's do The Little Thing," yelled Dyke. "No; de Maupassant," shouted Mansell, adding, in an undertone: "I saw one of his books in a shop in Villiers Street, looked pretty hot stuff." Then louder again: "Let's have de Maupassant."
"But look here, Clarke, you can't beat me, I'm a House cap." "Can't I?" "It has been a House tradition for years that a House cap can't be beaten." "I am sorry, Mansell, but I have little respect for traditions. Will you all wait for me in the Sixth Form room?" "All right, I shall go to the Chief then." "I don't think you will, Mansell."
"I couldn't quite make out what about.... Oh, by Jove, that's him." Jeffries' voice was heard down the passage: "Mansell." A voice answered him: "Here, No. 34." Jeffries was heard running upstairs; he entered looking very dejected. "Hullo! Cheer up!" shouted Mansell. "I shouldn't have thought you could have run like that after this afternoon's game. Where've you been?"
"Oh, Mr Hazlitt, do leave that alone," the wretched Nellie would implore. But it was no use. When there was a big crowd waiting to be served, the Hazlitt brethren would take knives and beat on the zinc counter, shouting out: "Nellie, come here!" They were a thoroughly objectionable pair. Whenever Mansell saw them, he kicked them hard, and they got rather frightened of the School House after a bit.
He shook hands with Hart, and we went out into the relatively pure air. Through the narrow, winding passage he walked, slowly and with a thoughtful mien, along Little Somerset Street and out into Mansell Street, until just on the stroke of a quarter-past we found ourselves opposite the little tobacconist's shop. Thorndyke glanced at his watch and halted, looking keenly up the street.
Before the eyes of Jones-Evans there rose a prospect of eternally treating outhouse men to muffins. Mansell swore violently. "The Bull" walked up and down the touch-line beaming with delight. Simonds was silent. "Well, you men," said Richards, "we've been beaten, but by heaven we'll shove them the last few minutes. Go for them, tooth and nail." The House did so.
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