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Pembury knew well enough it was no good trying to get anything out of the diligent section of his class-fellows at such a time; and he knew equally well that a number contributed entirely by the idlers of the Fifth would neither be creditable to the paper nor appreciated by any one outside.
Things were looking up in the Fourth Junior. They spent a merry morning, these young rebels, wondering in whispers over their lessons what this and that Sixth or Fifth Form fellow had done without them. With great glee they imagined Raleigh blacking his own boots and Pembury boiling his own eggs, and the very idea of such wonders quite frightened them.
"Oh, you didn't even see him with it in his pocket? Now, be very careful. Are you sure he didn't have it in his pocket a day before the exam?" "Why," said Simon, laughing at Pembury's innocence, "how could I see what was in a fellow's pocket, Pembury, you silly! I can't tell what's in your pocket." "Oh, can't you? I thought you could, upon my honour.
They were convinced in their own minds that in this they were completely successful, but no one else saw it. Boys took a good deal more interest in a lame gentleman present, who was cracking jokes with everybody, and hobbling about from one old crony to another in a manner that was perfectly frisky. Every one seemed to like Mr Pembury, and not a few to be afraid of him.
She repented at once. "I am sorry, Ted," she said. "It slipped from me."... He called it camping, but the house they had found in Pembury Road, Notting Hill, was more darkened and less airy than any camp.
"I say, Loman," said Pembury, "we were just saying our men could lick yours all to fits. Don't you think so yourself?" "Can't say I do; but you are such a wonderful lot of heroes, you Fifth, that there's no saying what you couldn't do if you tried," replied Loman, with a sneer. "But you take such precious good care we shall not try, that's just it," said Pembury, winking at his companion.
However, as has been said, all this came out of the circumstances which attended the bringing out of the first number of the Dominican, and there seemed but a poor look-out for Number 2, which was now nearly due, in consequence. "What on earth am I to do?" asked Pembury of Tom Senior one day; "I've not got a single contribution yet. There's you making out you're too busy, and Rick the same.
The cloud which was hanging over the Fifth seemed to have overshadowed its genius for a while. Still Pembury kept his men at it and gave them no peace till their productions, such as they were, were safe in his hands. One boy only was equal to the emergency; that I need hardly say was Simon. He was indeed more eloquent than ever.
Stephen sighed, and surrendered the inkpot. There was an air of authority about Pembury which he dared not defy. "Now, Master Tadpole, here's your ink; half a pot you said? Put your hands behind you, and stir if you dare!" and Pembury looked so awful as he spoke that the wretched boy was quite petrified.
"It will be such a miserably hollow affair I'm afraid." "I'm sorry it's not Wren, or Callonby, or one of them," said another of these amiable warriors; "there'd be some pleasure in chawing them up." At this moment up came Pembury, with a very long face. "It's no fight after all, you fellows," said he. "Loman funks it!" "What! he won't fight!" almost shrieked the rest. "It must be wrong."
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