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Updated: June 20, 2025
Westby resumed his toilsome way, and as he moved he kept murmuring remarks to Allison, to the others, to Irving himself, half audible, rapid, in an aggrieved tone. “Don’t see why you want to be conspicuous this way, Allison.—Won’t sing—amuse anybody—ornamental, I suppose—good timekeeper though—almost hear you tick. Mr. Upton—setting watch by you now—awfully severe kind of man—”
I hope he’ll bring him to lunch.” It was with satisfaction that Westby and Carroll saw Lawrence entering the dining-room with Irving. They had observed the long table spread in the common room of the Upper School, where the visiting team were to be entertained at luncheon, and had supposed therefore that they would have no chance of satisfying their curiosity about the master’s brother.
“Nay, by my halidome, but I shall this day do my devoir right worthily upon the body of yon false knight,” quoth Westby, as he carefully turned his shirt right side out. “A murrain on thee! Beshrew me if I do not spit thee upon my trusty lance,” replied Collingwood, as he drew on his swimming tights.
“Where did you get that, Wes?” “Oh, from Kiddy—this afternoon.” “Poor Kiddy! He seemed to be having an awful time at noon over that roast beef.” “He’s such a dodo—he’s more fun than a goat. I can put him up in the air whenever I want to,” boasted Westby. “He’s the easiest to get rattled I ever saw. I’m going to play horse with him in class to-morrow.”
The boys before him were now bent industriously over their tablets; Scarborough, Westby, and Dennison were drawing figures on the blackboard, using the long pointers for rulers and making beautiful circles by means of chalk attached to pieces of string. A glance at Westby showed that youth apparently intent upon solving the problem assigned him and at work upon it intelligently.
So they collected Dennison and Smythe and Allison and Carroll and Scarborough, and marched up the corridor—humorously tramping in step—to Irving’s door. There Westby, newspaper in hand, knocked. Irving opened the door. “Mr.
So mumbling, with the responsive titter still continuing below and Irving standing there stern and red, Westby disappeared into the loft. There was a moment’s silence, then a sudden clicking of a ratchet wheel, and Allison began to rise rapidly towards the ceiling. “A-ay!” cried Allison in amazement. The boys burst out in delighted laughter. “Westby! Westby!
The boys were all on the broad grin; Westby’s manner was so expansively courteous, his compliments were so absurdly urbane, that Irving threw off his air of coldness and adopted a jaunty manner of reply which was even more misleading. “Oh, well, if you’ve been so clever as to guess it, Westby,” he said, “I don’t mind telling you—it’s my brother.”
“You will have to choose some other time for it,” Irving answered. “I understand that there is a rule against reading newspapers at table, and I think it must be observed.” “Oh, very well,—de bon cœur,” said Westby. The next day at supper he appeared without his newspaper.
Westby looked surprised; then he shrugged his shoulders. “I’m not asking any favors,” he replied. Irving laughed. “No,” he said, “I see you’re not. But I’m afraid I must deny you the pleasure of martyrdom. I’ll ask you to take a note to Mr. Elwood—he’s in charge of the Study, isn’t he? I’ll tell him that you’re to write a sheet and a half instead of three sheets.”
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