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Updated: May 22, 2025
He says you are "an awfully decent chap" and "the only chap who has stood up to him at all." I suppose he means "for him." I hope you will come and spend part of your holidays with us. Yours sincerely, Isabel Shearne P.S. I hope you will manage to buy something nice with the enclosed. The enclosed was yet another postal order for five shillings.
"Of course, what's up really," said Spencer to himself, after reading this, "is that the whole family's jolly well cracked." His eye fell on the postal orders. "Still !" he said. That evening he entertained Phipps and Thomas B. A. Shearne lavishly at tea. Of all the useless and irritating things in this world, lines are probably the most useless and the most irritating.
"Well, anyway, you ought to," said Phipps, who possessed the scenario of a conscience. "I can't." "All right, don't, then. But you ought to send back that postal order." "Look here, Phipps," said Spencer plaintively, "you needn't be an idiot, you know." And the trivial matter of Thomas B. A. Shearne was shelved.
As far as he could gather, the seniors were mostly teetotallers. Yes, he had seen Spencer several times. He did not add that he had seen him from a distance. "I'm so glad I asked Mrs. Davy to get her nephew to look after Tom," said Mrs. Shearne, concluding the reading of the epistle at breakfast. "It makes such a difference to a new boy having somebody to protect him at first."
Shearne, "you are sure to be comfortable at school, because I asked Mrs. Davy to write to her sister, Mrs. Spencer, who has a son at Eckleton, and tell her to tell him to look after you when you get there. He is in Mr. Dencroft's house, which is next door to Mr. Blackburn's, so you will be quite close to one another. Mind you write directly you get there." "All right, mother."
Shearne to Spencer, and ran as follows My Dear Spencer, I am writing to you direct, instead of through your aunt, because I want to thank you so much for looking after my boy so well. I know what a hard time a new boy has at a public school if he has got nobody to take care of him at first. I heard from Tom this morning. He seems so happy, and so fond of you.
"That kid," said Spencer to his immortal soul, "wants his head smacked, badly." At lunch Phipps had questions to ask. "Saw you talking to Shearne in the interval," he said. "What were you talking about?" "Oh, nothing in particular." "What did you think of him?" "Little idiot." "Ask him to tea this afternoon?" "No." "You must. Dash it all, you must do something for him.
C. F. Spencer begs to present his compliments to Mrs. Shearne, and returns the postal order, because he doesn't see why he should have it. He notes your remarks re my being a decent chap in your favour of the 13th prox., but cannot see where it quite comes in, as the only thing I've done to Mrs. Shearne's son is to fight seven rounds with him in a field, W. G. Phipps refereeing. It was a draw.
Hullo!" "What's up? Hullo! is that a postal order? How much for?" "Five bob. I say, who's Shearne?" "New kid in Blackburn's. Why?" "Great Scott! I remember now. They told me to look after him. I haven't seen him yet. And listen to this: 'Mrs. Shearne has sent me the enclosed to give to you.
Shearne, "you'll soon be off now. You're sure to like Eckleton. Remember to cultivate your bowling. Everyone can bat nowadays. And play forward, not outside. The outsides get most of the fun, certainly, but then if you're a forward, you've got eight chances of getting into a team." "All right, father." "Oh, and work hard." This by way of an afterthought. "All right, father." "And, Tom," said Mrs.
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