Scaife

“ Scaife had missed an easy shot. Lawrence could see that the boy was trembling with disappointment and mortification. Barbed arrows from Damer's small boys pierced Manorite hearts.
"Jolly well boshed, Scaife!—Good, kind, old Demon!—Thank you, Scaife!—" and like derisive approbation rolled from lip to lip. The Caterpillar turned to Lovell.
"Showing temper, ain't he?"
"Yes," said Lovell.
"Clever chap," said the Caterpillar, reflectively; "but one is reminded that a stream can't rise higher than its source. Not mine that—the governor's! Cæsar is facing the chaff with a grin." ”

“ Scaife listens, smiling. Obviously, he is impatient to begin again. As soon as possible he collects his men, and leads them into the field. One can hear the policemen saying in loud, firm voices, "Pass along, please; pass along!" As if by magic the crowds on the lawn melt away. In a few minutes the Etonians come out of the pavilion. The sun shines upon their pale-blue caps and sashes, and upon faces slightly pale also, but not yet blue. For Eton has a strong batting team, and Scaife and Desmond have proved that it is a batsman's wicket. ”

“ That Scaife, his friend, should suffer the indignity of a swishing, and that he should escape scot-free, seemed to Cæsar Desmond not a bit of rare good fortune—as it appeared to the others—but an incredible miscarriage of justice. To submit tamely to such a burden was unthinkable. He sprang to his feet, ardent, impetuous, afire with the spirit which makes men accept death rather than dishonour ”

“ John crawled to the conclusion that Scaife had become jealous of his increasing intimacy with Desmond.
However, when the three boys were preparing their Greek for First School, Scaife seemed his old self, friendly, amusing, and cool as a cucumber. Long ago he had initiated John into Manorite methods of work.
"Our object is," he explained to the new boy, "to get through the 'swat' with as little squandering of valuable time as possible. It doesn't pay to be skewed. We must mug up our 'cons' well enough to scrape along without 'puns' and extra school." ”

“ And so strong was John's ideal that in a sense Desmond did catch a glimpse of himself as John saw him. And then followed a rapid comparison, first between the real and the ideal, and secondly between himself and Scaife. His face broke into a smile.
"Why, Verney," he exclaimed, "you mustn't turn me into a sort of Golden Calf. And as for Scaife not being good enough for me, why, he's miles ahead of me in everything. He's cleverer, better at games, ten thousand times better looking, and one day he'll be a big power, and I shall always be a poor man. ”

“ You're not prepared to go the whole hog? You want to pick and choose. Good! But give me the same right, that's all. Play bridge with your old pals, or don't play, just as you please."
No more was said. Scaife's manner rather than his matter confounded the younger and less experienced boy. Scaife, too, tackled problems which many men prefer to leave alone. Here heredity cropped up. Scaife's sire and grandsire were earning their bread before they were sixteen. Of necessity they faced and overcame obstacles which the ordinary Public School-boy never meets till he leaves the University. ”

“ Now, when Scaife gave Desmond the unexpurgated history of the row which so nearly resulted in the expulsion of six boys, Desmond had asked a question—
"Do you like whisky? I loathe it."
Scaife laughed before he answered. Doubtless one reason why he exacted interest and admiration from Desmond lay in a rare (rare at fifteen) ability to analyse his own and others' actions. ”

“ And, dash it all! he, John, was going to sing to him.
At that moment Desmond was whispering to Scaife—
"I say, Demon; I'm jolly glad that I've not got to sing before him.
I bet Jonathan is in a funk."
"A big bit of luck," replied Scaife, reflectively. Then, seeing the surprise on Desmond's face, he added, "If Jonathan can sing—and I suppose he can, or he wouldn't be chosen—this is a chance——"
"Of what?"
"Caesar, sometimes I think you've no brains. Why, a chance of attracting the notice of a tremendous swell—a man, they say, who never forgets—never! ”

“ If an Olympian—one of the masters, for instance, or the Head of the House—had said, "Verney, has the Demon a soul?" John would have answered promptly, "Ra—ther! He's been awfully decent to Fluff and me. We'd have had a hot time if it hadn't been for him," and so forth. . . . And, indeed, to doubt Scaife's sincerity and goodness seemed at times gross disloyalty, because he stood, firm as a rock, between the two urchins in his room and the turbulent crowd outside. ”

“ Scaife's bet, you may be sure, excited extraordinary interest. He won it easily, disguised as the coachman—a make-up clever enough to deceive even those who were in the secret. His friends knew that he kept two polo-ponies at Wembley. One afternoon he dared to play in a match against the Nondescripts. Warde's daughter, just out of the schoolroom, happened to be present, and she rubbed her lovely eyes when she saw Scaife careering over the field. Scaife laughed when he saw her ”

“ Some of the big fellows in the Fifth seized this opportunity to "celebrate," as they called it. Scaife was popular with the Fifth because—as John discovered later—he cheerfully lent money to some of them and never pressed for repayment. And Scaife's getting his "fez" before he was fifteen might be reckoned an achievement. Caesar, in particular, could talk of nothing else. He predicted that the Demon would be Captain of both Elevens, school racquet-player, and bloom into a second C. B. Fry. ”

“ At once Desmond responded, clutching Scaife's arm.
"You're going to be Captain of the cricket and footer Elevens, and School racquet-player, and a monitor; and after you leave you'll come down here, and you'll see that Harrow hasn't forgotten you, and then you'll know why these fellows cut engagements. My governor says that an hour at a School Concert is the finest tonic in the world for an Old Harrovian."
"Oh, shut up!" said Scaife; "you make me feel more of an outsider than good old Snowball." He glanced at a youth sitting close to them. ”

“ Scaife got his Flannels; and at Lord's his fielding was mentioned as the finest ever seen in a Public School match. John witnessed the game from the top of the Trent coach, and he stopped at Trent House. But he didn't enjoy his exeat, because he knew that Cæsar was in trouble. Cæsar owed Scaife thirteen pounds, and the fact that this debt could not be paid without confession to his father was driving him distracted. Scaife, it is true, laughed genially at Cæsar's distress. "Settle when you please," he said, "but for Heaven's sake, don't peach to your governor! ”

“ Indeed, John himself, detesting Scaife—for it had come to that—fearing him on Desmond's account, admired him notwithstanding: captivated by his amazing grace, good looks, and audacity. His recklessness held even the "Bloods" spellbound. A coach ran through Harrow in the afternoons of that season. Scaife made a bet that he would drive this coach from one end of the High Street to the other, under the very nose of Authority. The rules of the school set forth rigorously that no boy is to drive in or on any vehicle whatever. Only the Cycle Corps are allowed to use bicycles. ”

“ John was truthful (more of a habit than some people believe) . He told the truth, just as some boys quibble and prevaricate, simply and naturally. But now, he hesitated. If he hinted—a hint would suffice—that Scaife had hurt himself—and what more likely after the furious bit of playing which had secured his "fez"?—Trieve, probably, would do nothing. John felt in his bones that Trieve would be glad of an excuse to do—nothing.
"No; he hasn't sprained himself." ”

“ No, no; men forty were not likely to work in that boyish fashion. Warde had adopted an infinitely better plan. Assured that a boy had left the house, he had nothing to do but walk round the rooms and find out which one was absent. He had begun with Scaife. Next to Scaife was the room belonging to the Head of the House; then came John's room, and then Cæsar's. Long before Warde reached Cæsar's room, Cæsar would have heard him. Cæsar, at any rate, was saved. John crept back under cover of the shrubberies. He saw the light flicker out of Scaife's window, and shine more steadily in the next room. ”

“ Till now the whisky had been much diluted with mineral water.
"I'm going to him," yelled Scaife, struggling with his friends. "And I'm going to take a cricket stump with me. Le'me go—le'me go!"
The Caterpillar surveyed him with disgust. After a brief struggle Scaife succumbed, helpless and senseless.
"One is reminded sometimes," said the Caterpillar, [45] solemnly, "that the poor Demon is the son of a Liverpool merchant, bred in or about the Docks."
Nobody, however, paid any attention to Egerton, who, to do him justice, was the only boy present absolutely unmindful of his own peril. ”

“ Warde was in possession of the Manor; Scaife and Desmond and John—but not the Caterpillar—had got their remove. They were Fifth Form boys—and in tails! John, it is true, although tougher and broader, was still short for his years and juvenile of appearance, but Scaife and Desmond were quite big fellows, and their new coats became them mightily. Trieve was Head of the House; Lovell, Captain of the House football Eleven and in the Lower Sixth.
"Lovell will have to behave himself now," the Duffer remarked to Scaife, who laughed derisively, as he answered—
"He couldn't, even if he tried." ”

“ I'm glad—and you ought to know it—that you've won the bet. All the same, Verney isn't entitled to all the glory that you give him."
"He is, he is—and more, too."
Scaife laughed. John felt rather uncomfortable. Always Scaife exhibited his amazing resource at unexpected moments.
"Never mind," Scaife continued, "I won't burst the pretty bubble. And I admit, remember, Verney's cleverness."
He was turning to go, but Desmond clutched his sleeve. When he spoke his fair face was scarlet.
"You sneer at the wrong man and at the wrong time," he said angrily, "and you talk as though I was a fool. ”

“ John replied.
The Caterpillar joined them as they were passing through the stile. "We should have won," he said deliberately, "if the Demon hadn't behaved like a rank outsider." [71]
"Scaife is my pal," said Desmond, hotly.
The Caterpillar shrugged his shoulders, and held high his well-cut, aquiline nose, as he murmured—
"One doesn't pretend to be a Christian, but as a gentleman one accepts a bit of bad luck without gnashing one's teeth. What? That Spartan boy with the fox was a well bred 'un, you can take my word for it. Scaife isn't." ”

“ He came back with the Caterpillar half an hour later, and the three boys sat down as usual to prepare some Livy. John was sensible that his companions treated him not only as an equal—a new and agreeable experience—but as a friend. In the [55] course of the first ten minutes Scaife said to the Caterpillar—
"He told Dick to his face that he would lie to save a pal."
And the Caterpillar replied seriously, "Good kid, very good kid. Lovell says he's going to give a tea in his honour."
"No, he isn't. It's my turn."
Accordingly, upon the next half-holiday, Scaife gave a tea at the Creameries. ”

“ But together, I say——"
"I shan't interfere, Cæsar." [185]
"Jonathan, you must."
"It would be a fool's errand."
"We three have gone up the School together. You have never been fair to Scaife. I tell you he's sound at core. Why, after he was swished——"
Desmond told John what had passed; John shook his head. He could understand better than any one else why Scaife had broken down.
"He has splendid ambitions," pursued Desmond. "He's going to be a great soldier, you see. He thinks of nothing else. You never have liked him, but because of that I thought you would do what you could." ”

“ Scaife made Desmond a present of the very best maps obtainable, and nailed them on the wall above the mantelpiece, pulling down a fine engraving which John had given to Desmond about a year before. Desmond uttered no protest. The engraving was bundled out of sight behind a sofa.
And after Scaife's departure, Desmond talked of him continually, and always with enthusiasm. Warde added a note or two to the chorus.
"This is an opportunity for Scaife," he told John. "He may distinguish himself very greatly, and the discipline of the camp will transmute the bad metal into gold. War is an alchemist." ”

“ One is really sorry for the poor fellow, because, of course, he can't help being a bounder. What does puzzle me is, why did Cæsar want such a fellow for his pal?"
"But he didn't," said John. [85]
"Eh?—what?"
"Scaife wanted Cæsar," John explained. "And I've noticed, Caterpillar, that whatever Scaife wants he gets."
"He wants breeding, Jonathan, but he'll never get that—never."
After this, John saw but little of Desmond; and Scaife hardly spoke to him. Accordingly, much of our hero's time was spent in the company of the Duffer and Fluff. ”

“ And John alone knew that Scaife read him like a book, in which he was contemptuously amused—nothing more. After that, as if Scaife's will were law, the others called John—Jonathan.
Very soon, the sun was obscured by ever-thickening clouds, John happened to provoke the antipathy of a lout in his form known as Lubber Sprott. Sprott began to persecute him with a series of petty insults and injuries. He accused him of "sucking up" to a lord, of putting on "lift" because he was the youngest boy in the Upper Remove, of kow-towing to the masters—and so forth. ”