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Updated: June 10, 2025
Now, our form had been organised by the all-powerful statesman, Pennybet, who had lately been reading the Progressive Papers, into a Trade Union, of which the President was Mr. Archibald Pennybet. We must organise to effect an improvement in the conditions of living.
"Pennybet," explained Radley, "you're a purblind egotist and will come to a bad end." "Oh, I don't think so, sir," said Penny, crossing his legs that he might the more comfortably discuss his end with Radley. "I've always managed to do what I've wanted and to come out of it all right." "Oh, you have, have you?" sneered Chappy. "Always," answered Penny, unabashed.
"Ray's face looks as though somebody had trodden on it, and Doe's well, Doe's would be better if it had been trodden on." It was an early morning of the Kensingtowe Summer Term, and the three of us, Archie Pennybet, Edgar Gray Doe, and I, Rupert Ray, were waiting in the Junior Preparation Room at Bramhall House, till the bell should summon us over the playing fields to morning school.
Don't you know Germany is mobilising and will be at war with France in about thirty hours?" "Oh, I read something about it. But what fun!" Radley looked irritated. In trying to break some strange news he had walked up a blind alley and been met by my blank wall of density. So he took another path. "Pennybet is in luck, according to his ideas. All Europe plays into his hands.
As I looked for my books, I sought for the rudest and most painful insult I could offer him. My duty to Doe demanded that it should be something quite uncommon. And from a really fine selection I had just chosen: "You're the biggest liar I've ever met, and, for all I know, you're as big a thief," when I turned round and found he was gone. Pennybet always left the field as its master.
His example was extensively followed, while he looked on approvingly, as though it had all been his doing, and chirruped every now and then: "This is the jolliest day I've spent at Kensingtowe." The next year was 1914. It found Pennybet at Sandhurst; Doe brilliantly high in the Sixth Form, and, since he was a classical scholar and a poet, first favourite for the Horace Prize.
The crowd detected something humorous in my high-handed sentence and laughed sarcastically. So, giving up all attempts to be persuasive, I said bluntly: "Look here, Salome's upstairs, and he's made me a prefect and sent me down to establish order." There were elements of greatness in Pennybet.
Little it matters what Fillet said. Destiny ordains for our correction that there shall be some people before whom we shall always appear at our worst. Fillet occupied that place in my schooldays. Little would it matter, either, what my fellow trade-unionists thought of this black-leg in the camp, were it not for the remarkable deed of Pennybet.
This resembling a joke, the class expressed its appreciation in a prolonged and uproarious laugh. It was a stupendous laugh. It had fine crescendo and diminuendo passages, and only died hard, after a chain of intermittent "Ha-ha's." Then it had a glorious resurrection, but faded at last into the distance, a few stray "Ha-ha's" from Pennybet bringing up the rear. Mr.
"Resume your play," commanded Pennybet. "It was Not Out." "Why?" loudly demanded the bowler. Penny seized the only escape from his sensational error. "Because, you horrid little tuberculous maggot, it was a no-ball. Besides, you smell." The little boy looked defiantly at him, and, pointing to me, said: "Bowler's umpire didn't give 'no-ball." "Then," said Penny promptly, "he ought to have done."
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