Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: April 30, 2025
I also detailed, with much gusto, the way in which Tom and I had made our exit from Dr Hellyer's academy, and our subsequent adventures in the coal brig, down to the moment when I saw the last of my chum as he steamed out of the Plymouth railway station in the Exeter train, leaving me desolate behind.
I thought he was still at Dr Hellyer's, at Beachampton, cramming for an Oxford scholarship, as far as I knew to the contrary who but Yes! Tom Larkyns, my old chum, who acted so wickedly in concert with me, when we blew up the schoolmaster and ran away to sea!
"I shall manage to light this fuse somehow or other," Tom said, assuming the control of this infernal machine; and then, after going into the hall to get our caps, giving another look round the room when we came back, to see whether our preparations were noticeable, we awaited Dr Hellyer's summons to proceed to church with calm satisfaction at the so far successful issue of our calculations.
Arriving at the London Bridge terminus, Uncle George ensconced me and my box in a train, bound for Beachampton, at which retired and out-of-the- way little watering-place was situated Dr Hellyer's school. Handing me then my railway ticket and a two-and-sixpenny "tip," Uncle George gave me a hearty hand-shake, wishing me good-bye and a safe journey.
During our processional walk we were both in high glee at the grand "blowing up" that would happen on our return a sort of "Roland for an Oliver" in return for the many different sorts of blowings up we had received at Dr Hellyer's hands at one time and another.
I awoke from a confused dream of having a quarrel with Aunt Matilda at Tapioca Villa about taking the tea-tray up to the parlour, and, in my passion at being condemned to exercise Molly's functions, kicking over the whole equipage, and sending all the cups and saucers flying down the kitchen stairs where I could hear them clattering and crashing as they descended to the far different reality that, instead of being still under my uncle's roof at Islington, I was actually at school at Dr Hellyer's.
My life, therefore, for the two intervening years, after I had run away from school and before I went actually to sea, was a very even and pleasant one cut off completely, as it was, from all the painful past, and the associations of Aunt Matilda and Dr Hellyer's.
"Hellyer's school i' the village, b'y, that's wat I mean! Y'er to come along o' me. Poot yer box on yer shoulder and crass the line, young maister, an' I'll shoo yer way down." This was not to be borne.
But I took very good care he should not touch me, for Tom Larkyns and I when at Hellyer's used to make a practice in fun of pretending we were going down when out bathing, and the one or other of us who acted the part of rescuer would always study how to approach the feigning drowner, so as to help him effectually without incurring any risk of being pulled below the surface; so, on Mr Macdougall stretching out his clutching hands, endeavouring to get hold of me, I was quite on my guard to avoid his grip.
There the conversation ended, with an intimation that I was to go to Dr Hellyer's school in three days' time. The interval passed like a whirlwind to me; for not only were my thoughts full of the new life on which I was entering, but there was in addition the very unusual bustle attendant on my being provided with a wardrobe I for whom anything had been good enough before!
Word Of The Day
Others Looking