LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXIV, Issue 2676, 3 November 1882, Page 4

LITERATURE.

HOW QUEDGLINGTON WAS SENT DOWN Charley Quedglington was in a thoughtful mood. This was an unusual thing with him. As a general rule ho didn’t think; but the most rackety and mischievous of debt-incurring, don-baiting undergraduates have their moments of thought, though they may studiously conceal them. And Charley’s thoughts, this sunny May morning, as he glanced into the blazing hot quadrangle, -waiting until it should he time to partake of Gordon’s luncheon, were not very pleasant. ‘lf your name comes before us again/ the Dean had said grimly, with his sternest •aspect—and the old gentleman, the jollicst of talkative hosts at dinner, could bo very grim and stern about twelve o’clock in the day— ‘ if your name comes before us again, Mr Quedglington, wo shall have no altertive but to send you down for a considerable period. You ai - e never out of trouble, either in college or in the city. This is the last time you will bo warned, sir. Consider yOur/oIf; gated after six for the rest of the term/ <■ And, by Jove, I believe the old gentleman means it!’ ruminated Charley, stretching his legs upon the window seat, and puffing his cigarette smoke into the recesses of the sheltering sun blind. ‘As sure as Fate, I shall get into a row before the end of the term, though it is only a fortnight off. There is Cummings’ wine tonight ; and they’ll go and draw the bursar afterwards, and then the fat will be in the fire; for whether I am there or safe in bed, the porters will swear to Mr Quedlington —small blame to them i’ And he laughed with a keen appreciation of his own bad eminence. * TJmph ! it’s all very well; but if it comes to rustication, won’t the Governor be savage ? He’s a jolly old boy, and lie’ll swallow the bills with hardly a grimace ; but this affair wouldn’t be quite a coating of sugar to help them on their way.’ Charley’s forebodings were not without a more than usual share of probability. There was not much chance of the most popular and reckless of St. Aldate’s men keeping out of a row for the remaining weeks of the summer term. The dons had been very long-suffering with him. There was so much good in him at bottom, the great luminary said in confidence after dinner, and the lesser lights agreed with him. He looked so young ; a darkcomplexioned handsome fellow, hardly as old as his years, and with but the faintest symptoms of a moustache, to which only his scout knew how much care and time were devoted. He appeared quiet enough, and not very strong. Appearances, however, are deceitful; and Charley was not long in impressing his set with his utterly thoughtless, reckless gaiety, which yet had not a grain of real evil at the bottom of it. His father, the Archdeacon of Loamford, was a rich man, and a famous pillar of the Church. Charley would be well enough off some day; so that the mere getting into debt would hurt no one very much. But the Archdeacon had passed through his college career without a reproach, and was a great preacher of note elsewhere than in ecclesiastical circles. It would he a terrible thing if the son of such a man should be put to open shame, and sent down like the son of any godless earl or weak-minded bishop. f Hullo, Charley!’ cried a jovial young voice from the quad below, at this point of his meditations ; ' you’ll breakfast with me to-morrow ? The best train for Watlingbury is at 12.30.’ ‘l’m not coming,’ answered Charley rather shortly. You’re not coming ?’ cried his interrogator. ‘ What is up now ? But wait a moment, and I’ll he with you.’ And up the echoing wooden staircase, so shady and cool in comparison with the blaze and sunshine outside, came Cummings, throe steps at a time, and dashed into Charley’s room. ‘ What is up now ?’ he repeated. ‘ The Dean has sent for me, and says he’ll send me down if my name goes up again this term.’ ‘ Pheugh ! that is had. It would not suit your book with the governor, would it, Charley ? But he has said the same often before.’

*He means it this time; and he has gated me after six for a fortnight/ * Gordon, what do you think is the latest ?’ cried Cummings, leaning out of the window, and accosting a man in a many-colored coat who was leaning out of a ground floor window not far off. ‘ Quedlington has been sent for, and gated until the end of the term. He says he won’t come to Watlinghury to-morrow/ ‘ Gammon ! I’ll come up and draw the badger. What is a gating ?’ Gordon should have known, for, Charley excepted, no one at St. Aldate’s had more experience of it. Watlinghury races were strictly forbidden to the uuder-graduates of the University ; and even the somewhat lax rules of St. Aldate’s were upon this point strict as those of more learned colleges. The arrival of the trains from Watlingbury, at any rate of those late in the day, was attended by a proctor and bulldog, to see if any of his flock had been astray ; while a watch was also kept upon the roads which led from the city in that direction.

* Look here !’ cried the tempter, clad for the occasion in the flame colored blazon of the Hono.iable Richard Gordon,' if we get back by the four o’clock train we shall see all the best of the fun, escape the proctors, who will not he on the look out until the six o’clock, and save Charley’s gate.' f It’s all very well for you fellows to risk it, but I can’t afford to be sent down/ Pooh ! not a chance of your being sent down ! It ain’t like you to funk. What a capital time we had there last year ! And my cousin has ahorse running, and we can get the trip from him. c Are you sure that there is a four o’clock train ?’

‘ Certain. Come, that is a good fellow.’ * Then, by Jove, I will!’ cried Charley. And as no promises are so well kept as those which please ourselves, ho kept his word to the letter. He was too young to find the pleasure turn to dust and ashes. He thoroughly enjoyed his afternoon on Watlinghury racecourse ; and for once the tip, wonderfully to relate, was the straight one, and the affair went off capitally. *My boy,’ said Gordon, taking him a little aside about a quarter to four, ' you have just time to catch your train. We’ll risk it ; but if you are not a fool you’ll bo off.’

‘ I am not going !’ cried Charley recklessly. c Then you are a fool/ answered the other ; r take my advice, and go.’

It was such a i-are thing for Gordon to give advice of this kind, that our hero took it as that of a good angel, who, instead of the suggestive flame-coloured blazon of yesterday, had assumed, with much appropriateness, a fashionable frockcoat of Quakor-like gray. Quedglington reached the station just in time to tumble into a first-class carriage already pretty full. Many of its occupants looked as if the tickets in their pockets might be of any hue save white, which was, and is, the colour of first-class tickets upon the Watlingbury branch line. Charley looked them over with the superciliousness of St. Aldate’s, and came to the conclusion that, if undergraduates at all, they hailed from some college more than a Sabbath-day’s journey from the centre of university life.

They had lunched well, and were loud and noisy, as was Charley sometimes; but, somehow, their loudness and noisiness were not the same things at St. Aldato’s, and Quedglington regarded them with much the same disapproval that tilled the Dean of St. Aldate’s when brought face to face with his, Charley’s, vagaries.

His gazo settled at last on a face in tho far corner which, under the circumstances, caused him some surprise. It was so decidedly out of place. It was that of a rather pretty girl, with a fair-haired graceful little head, set off by a small gray hat. It was a face formed to he cither gravely sweet or coquettishly smiling ; but now it was a frightened piteous little face. The sudden irruption of the noisy and excited crew into her carriage was evidently not to her liking; hut as she was sitting at the end farthest from the platform, it was no

easy matter to extricate herself. ’She’s a governess, and a very proity one,’ thought Charley. ' Certainly she is travelling- first class, so she must he a Nownbam or Girton girl. She is too plainly dressed to be a swell. I wish I had some sisters who wanted a governess.’ It was not Quedglington only whoso attention she attracted. The young men, their hots settled, turned towards her

more of their regards than was polite or pleasant. From this they advanced to making eulogistic remarks upon her appearance to one another, and generallly to talking at her in a way that made Quedglington’s face hot with anger. By the time the train stopped at the junction, Charley was on the point of interfering. The young lady rose, however, and, taking up her cloak, stood prepared to leave the carriage. Her tormentors mado way for her not an inch, but sat with their knees across the passage. ‘ Would you ho kind enough to lot mo pass ?’ she said bravely, in quite a steady voice. But they were heated with excitement and the wine they had taken at luncheon. Charley had come to the conclusion by this time that they were not ’ Yarsity men at all, and wo will hope and trust that he was right. At any rate, they sat still.

‘ I think/ said one, with mock politeness, ‘ that the ticket you showed at Watlingbnry was for our destination. We do not change here.’ ‘ And we really cannot spare so pretty a face. W r e are hoping to have pleasure of seeing you home.’ So the girl was in fact a prisoner ; the noise upon the platform mado it impossible for her to get help from thence. Her eyes wondered round the flushed faces, and rested upon Charley’s, flushed too, but from a different cause. She saw that ho not of the others.

‘ Don’t let us have any of this rot!’ he said quietly. ‘ Let this lady pass, if you please.’ They all turned upon him, as he rose and with some roughness pushed two or three of them aside. The girl just touched his hand, [stepped lightly past them, and was out of the carriage in a moment before they could recover from their surprise. ‘ Confound you ! What business is it of yours f’ cried|one,standing up and catching hold of his collar. Charley did not answer him in words; his blood was up, and, as the other maintained his hold, he struck him between the eyes with all bis strength and some little science. The man fell back among his fellows, and all rose up and hit out at Charley rather wildly, who warded off a blow or two, and then stepped lightly backwards on to the platform to avoid others. He was only just in time ; before they could follow him the train began to move ; a porter, who, in the hubbub of the station, had seen nothing of it, slammed the door ; and the last that Charley, standing upon the platform, saw of his opponents, was a group of angry faces framed in the quickly moving window. Ho turned round with a little laugh of triumph, and saw his damsel, so lately in distress, standing at his elbow. She was much the more self-jiossessed of the two now.

‘ Thank you so much/ sho said prettily; ‘it was foolish of me to he afraid; but they really were rude, were they not ? lam afraid now that I have caused you to be loft behind; it does not matter much to me, but it may to you/ * Not a bit/ answered he, with a vivacious mendacity which impressed her greatly. Yet he was not unmindful that now he could not get back to college until after six o’clock, and would certainly bo reported for breaking his gate, even if his visit to Watlingbury escaped detection, and he did not, upon his arrival at the station, fall into the hands of the proctor, as was most probable. ‘ They were awful brutes, were they not ? I am very glad I. was there to be of some assistance to you.’ ‘ And I cordially share in that she said, with a laugh of pleasure at the thought of the blow he had struck. ‘I am going to see some friends who live here ; but I hope I may have fomo further opportunity of thanking you. I am greatly obliged to your bravery/ She looked brightly up into Charley’s face, held out a little gloved hand, and was gone ; quite conscious, however, that the young fellow’s eyes were fixed upon her as she passed out of the station, and, probably, not ill-pleased by the fact. She was gone, and he was left to kick his heels for a couple of hours in a dreary station, and get what amusement he could out of the refreshment-room and the bookstall. In time the next train came, and he rejoined his astonished party. ‘ Your name and college, sir, if you please T ‘ Quedglington, St. Aldate’s.’ The proctor had known quite well both his name and college, but preferred to go through the old formula. So a fine was the least to be expected as the result of the Watlingbury trip, in addition to the penalty to be paid for the broken gate, of the nature of which there could be little doubt after the Dean’s solemn warning. And, therefore, when his scout, on calling him next morning, said that the Dean requested the pleasure of his company at twelve o’clock, Charley felt that he might as well tell Bunn to begin packing his things. A breakfast with Gordon .however, cheered him up a little, but the momentary gaiety sank down again at the door of the Dean’s house. ‘ What will the governor say ?’ he groaned. When he was ushered iq* he saw no sign of relenting in the Dean’s face. ‘You were not in college yesterday, Mr Quedglington, by the time at which, for you, the gate closes. I am also informed that you returned from Watlingbury by a train arriving after that time. The doings at Watlingbury were disgraceful, sir, as I have good reason to know. I cannot imagine you have anything to urge/ Charley regarded the third button of the diaconal waistcoat with a stoical calmness. ‘ After the solemn warning we gave you only two days ago, I think I am exercising some leniency in merely sending you down until the end of this term. You will go down today. Good morning.’ Quedglington of St. Aldate’s was not the man to plead, even if he could think of anything to say, in mitigation of sentence. He turned to leave with a silent bow, when the further door of the library was opened, and a voice ho know exclaimed.

' I beg your pardon, uncle ; I thought you were alone.’ Charley looked up in astonishment. It was his friend of the train

‘ Good gracious!’ said she, recognising him at once, and coming in ; ' I am so glad you are a St. Aldate’s man. Uncle, this is the gentleman who interfered in my behalf yesterday, and missed his train through his kindness. Perhaps you will thank him for me.’

‘ It was not anything at all !’ murmured Charley. ‘ This is very remarkable, said the Doan, in the accents of Domiue Sampson. ‘lf this is so, I have to thank you for doing, not only my niece, but myself, a great service.’

*lt is so i’ cried Miss Gertrude pettishly. ‘ Indeed, indeed ! Then it is very remarkable. This is my niece Gertrude, Mr Quedglington;|l am greatly obliged to you, greatly. Will you be kind enough to run away, Gertrude, and we will talk about it again ?’ In a few minutes they were alone again. ‘Sc that was how you missed your train ?’ asked the Head.

Charley nodded. * Well, I am greatly obliged to you. You are an honor to the college—in some respects. But of course I can make no alteration upon this account. You had no business going to Watlingbury, or returning from it. So I must say good morning.’ Even Charley thought the Doan was treating him a little cavalierly, but he was not one to make much of his services. He made for the door.

‘ Ah, yes,’ said tho Doan, when his hand was* already upon it;’ do you know my brother Sir Richard ? No, I think not. He has asked me to send him a rod or two, to make up his party. My wife and niece are going to his place in the North tonight. Perhaps, Mr Quedglington, you would escort them, and stay until the end of the term, when your home engagements fall in. Would it suit you ?'

‘ I shall he delighted, sir,’ stammered Charley, tho vision of Miss Gertrude pet-

tishly stamping the floor with the smallest foot the male imagination can conceive before his eyes. ‘ Very well; you had better dine here early, as they go by the eight o’clock train. Your letters could bo forwarded from he: t/ added the Doan, with a slight cough, ‘ and then, perhaps, you need not trouble your people with your change of places ? Fou go down to-night, then. Good morning.’

That was how Charley Quedglington was sent down. Some people are inclined to insinuate that it was all a plan of Mrs Dean’s, and a very successful plan too. But that, we know, is all nonsense. One thing about it is certain—that, to this day, the venerable archdeacon is totally ignorant, and so are his intimate friends, that his son over incurred the disgrace of being sent down from St. Aldate’.s.