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Updated: May 11, 2025
He wrote an urgent letter to Daisy, to "shell out" something, and strove to work on the feelings of his parents to assist him to do honour to their future son-in-law. Meanwhile he conceived the wild project of approaching the prefects on the subject. Unluckily for everybody, he made his first attempt with Felgate. "A testimonial for Marky?" inquired that worthy. "What for?"
The quarrel of the two masters at Grandcourt certainly failed to do any good to the school, and if it did less mischief than might have been expected, it was because up till now the parties principally concerned had had their own reasons for keeping it private. Felgate was naturally anxious to hear the result of an entertainment to which he had, as he imagined, made so valuable a contribution.
Why, I should fancy if Felgate goes in for it it's not much harm." "Felgate knows what he's up to, and can look after himself," said Arthur. "You can't; you swallow everything any ass tells you!" "I don't swallow all you tell me, for one!" retorted Dig. Arthur coloured; he did not like being pulled up short like that, especially when he was doing the high moral business.
"Out, sir," said Stafford. "And the prefects?" "Felgate and I are prefects, sir. The other two are out." "And you two have allowed this noise and disorder to go on for half an hour?" "We were going to stop it," said Felgate, faltering. "By looking on and applauding?" responded the master.
Felgate was in against him rather a decent chap, one of our prefects; had me to tea in his room the other day. He and Marky don't hit it. He was lazy, and didn't bother himself. Fellows said he could easily have licked the School record if he'd tried; but he didn't; and Stafford missed it by a few inches. So that event we lost. Jolly sell, joli vendre.
Felgate nodded to them as he passed out, little guessing the real meaning of the affectionate smile with which they returned the greeting. "So your cold's better, youngster?" said he to Arthur. "Looks like it," replied Arthur. Felgate's first glance as he entered the room was towards the corner in which he had left his parcel.
Felgate was the prefect charged with the oversight of the Shell dormitory in Railsford's a duty he discharged by never setting foot inside their door when he could possibly get out of it. From a gastronomic point of view the boys would doubtless have done better to postpone their feast till to-morrow.
Stafford and Felgate heard it, and shrugged their shoulders and wondered when the other prefects would be back. "There's nobody about. Come on. We can kick up as much row as we like!" shouted the high-principled Arthur. "Who cares for my spooney old brother-in-law, Marky?"
This is not the first time I have had to caution you that your example in the house is neither worthy of a prefect nor a senior boy." "Thank you, sir," said Felgate, with ostentatious indifference. He had better have remained silent, for Railsford dismissed whatever of mildness he had come armed with, and stood on his dignity. "Don't be impertinent, Felgate; it will do you no good.
Felgate had a wonderful gift of self-delusion. He knew he had acted wrongly and meanly. "And yet," he argued, "smoking is no crime, and if the school rules make it one, it doesn't follow that I'm a sinner if I have a whiff now and then. He admits he smokes himself. He doesn't call himself a sinner. Easy enough for him to be high and mighty. One law for him and another for me."
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