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John, upon this eventful evening, soon became aware of a shindy. It happened that Rutford was giving a dinner-party, and extremely unlikely to leave the private side of the house. John heard snatches of song, howls, and cheers. John was getting a "con" from Trieve when an unusually piercing howl penetrated the august seclusion. "What are they doing?" asked Trieve, irritably. John hesitated.
This explanation was so near the truth that Trieve accepted it, probably with mental reservations. "You had better send for Mrs. Puttick," he replied coldly. The Caterpillar was despatched for the matron; but before that worthy woman panted upstairs, Scaife had been carried to his own room, hastily undressed and put into bed, where he lay breathing stertorously.
"What the blazes do you want?" said Lovell, the owner of the room. "I want Scaife," said John. "I mean that Trieve wants Scaife." "Oh, Miss Trieve wants Master Scaife, does she? Well, young 'un, you tell Trieve, with my compliments, that Scaife can't come. See? Now hook it!" But John still stared at Scaife.
Look here, Demon, you must grin and bear it." "No," said Scaife, "not from Miss Trieve." He laughed as before. The Fifth exchanged glances. Then Scaife said thickly, "Give me another drink, I want a drink; so does young Verney. Look at him!" John was white about the gills and trembling, but not for himself. "Do go, Scaife!" he entreated.
"Then why don't he come?" "I I " Then he burst into excited speech. "He looks as if he was a little mad. Oh, Trieve, won't you leave him alone? Please do! They must stop before prayers, and then Lawrence will be here." O unhappy John thou art not a diplomatist! Why lug in Lawrence, who has inspired mordant jealousy and envy in the heart of his second in command?
The consequence of a refusal must prove serious. Sooner or later Scaife would be whopped, probably by Lawrence, no ha'penny matter that! "You'd better go, Demon," said Lovell. "Trieve can't hurt you. I'd speak to the idiot, only he hates me so poisonously, just as I hate him." "I'll go," said the Caterpillar. John had not noticed the Caterpillar before.
"Tell Scaife to come here at once," said Trieve, eying a couple of canes in the corner. "And if he should happen to ask what I want him for, say that I mean to whop him." John fled. "Whop him?" The Fifth howled rage and remonstrance. Scaife fiercely announced his intention of not taking a whopping from Trieve. None the less, the announcement had a sobering effect upon the elder boys.
"But he stopped laughing when I gave him Trieve's message, and then he said what Lovell told you, sir." "Never mind what Lovell told me. Give me your version of the story." "Scaife asked the other fellows if Trieve had any right to fag him, now that he had got his 'fez. If he had been drunk, sir, he wouldn't have thought of that, would he?" "Um," said Rutford, slightly shaken.
"Don't try to be funny with me, Verney." "Oh no, sir, as if I should dare!" "Well, well, we are wasting time. Trieve sent you to Lovell's room to fetch Scaife?" "Yes, sir." "And what was Scaife doing when you went into the room? Be very careful!" John considered. "He was laughing, sir." "Laughing, was he?"
Trieve was second in command, and had been known as "Miss" Trieve. John would have gladly done this and more for Lawrence, his fag-master; but Lawrence, a manly youth, scorned sybaritic services. How he used to envy the members of the Elevens as they rolled arm-in-arm down the High Street!
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