Soldiers of the Queen

The boy looked up from his reading with a grunt of astonishment as his questioner turned sharply on his heel and dashed out of the room. Jack had his faults, but he was loyal-hearted enough to remember those who had at any time proved themselves to be his friends, and not to leave them in the lurch when an opportunity offered for rendering them some assistance. He was a strong boy, but the back desk trio were also good-sized fellows for their age. Had it, however, been the whole of the Sixth Form who were licking Valentine, Jack in his present state of mind would have charged in among them and attempted a rescue.

"It's clear enough," he muttered to himself, as he turned off down a short, narrow passage; "that message was a trap to catch him alone. But wait a minute, and I'll surprise the beggars."

He paused outside a door, and hearing voices within tried the handle. It was locked.

"Hallo! who's there? You can't come in."

Jack was too wary to make any reply. He glanced round rapidly, endeavouring to concoct some plan for gaining an entrance. Stooping down, he discovered that the key was turned so that it remained exactly in the centre of the keyhole, anything pushed against it would send it out on the other side. "I believe that bathroom key fits this door," he muttered, and tiptoed a little further along the passage. In another moment he was back again, and thrusting the key suddenly into the lock he turned it, and forced open the door.

The room was a small chamber set apart for music practice, the only furniture it contained being a piano, a chair, some fiddle-cases, and music-stands, while on the mantelpiece, in the place of a clock, was a metronome that had something wrong with the works. Jack, however, had no eye for these details; his attention was centred in a group of boys who were struggling under the single gas-jet, which was flaring away in a manner which showed it had evidently been turned up in a hurry.

"Here, leave that chap alone!" he exclaimed, plunging into the centre of the scrimmage. "Let him alone, I say!"

"Hallo! it's Fenleigh J.," cried Garston. "You've just come in time to help us to teach this cousin of yours a lesson on the subject of not overworking himself."

"Leave him alone!" repeated Jack angrily, giving Rosher a push which sent him staggering back into the fireplace, where he knocked over the metronome, which fell with a crash on the fender.

"Don't be a fool, Fenleigh," cried Teal. "We're going to teach this chap a lesson. If you don't want to help, you can clear out."

"I shall do nothing of the sort," returned the other. "You let him alone."

Both parties were too much in earnest to waste their breath in talking, and the next moment Garston and Rosher sprang on the intruder and endeavoured to force him out of the room. Valentine, being unable to free himself from the muscular grasp of Teal, could render no assistance; but his cousin, whose blood was fairly up, struggled furiously with his two assailants. Round the room they went, like a circular storm, wrecking everything they came in contact with; music-stands went over with an appalling clatter, while the back of the solitary chair gave way with a crash as the three combatants fell against it. Suddenly a sharp voice sounded down the passage, —

"Now then, there! What's all that noise about?"

Teal released his hold of Valentine, and springing to the gas-jet turned out the light.

"Cave!" he whispered: "it's old Thorpe!"

It was impossible to continue the struggle in the darkness, and the tumult ceased.

"He's gone into Copland's classroom," continued Teal. "Quick! let's hook it before he comes back!"

A rush was made for the door.

"All right, Fenleigh; don't you think you're going to be friends with us any more."

"I've no wish to be," answered Jack. "If you want to finish this out any time, I shall be quite ready for you!"

"It was jolly good of you to stick up for me like that," said Valentine, as the two cousins hurried off towards the schoolroom.

"I should have been a mean cad if I hadn't," returned the other, laughing. "You don't think I've forgotten that affair of the magpie's nest, do you? I don't care a straw for any of those fellows, and it they want to fight, I'll take them on any day; but they'll have to lick me first before they talk about thrashing you."

In course of time the dispute between the two extremes of the Upper Fourth died a natural death. Mr. Rowlands did not increase the length of the "prep." lessons, and peace was restored. Garston and his two companions, however, did not forgive Jack for his interference with their plans. Regarding him, perhaps, as rather a hard nut to crack, they made no attempt to renew the combat, but evidently decided to cut him off from any future enjoyment of their society or friendship.

Jack, on his part, did not seem to take this loss very much to heart; it only induced him to become more chummy with Valentine, and, judging from the comparatively few times that his name was down for punishment, this change of associates seemed to be decidedly to his advantage. As the autumn advanced, and wet days became more frequent, the two boys took to doing fretwork in their spare time; and having purchased a rather large and complicated design for a kind of bracket bookcase, they conceived the happy notion of making it as a Christmas present for Queen Mab, and so worked away together, taking an immense amount of interest in their task.

Before the term ended a rather curious incident happened, insignificant in itself, but worthy of being recorded as bearing on more important events to be dwelt on at a later period in our story.

It wanted about three weeks to the holidays, and Jack and Valentine were returning from the ironmonger's, where they had been purchasing some sandpaper wherewith to put the finishing touches to their work.

"I wish it was midsummer instead of Christmas," the former was saying. "I don't want to go home. I'd much rather go to stay with Aunt Mab at Brenlands."

Valentine was about to reply, when both boys were surprised by a shabby-looking man suddenly crossing from the other side of the street and taking up his stand directly in their path. The stranger wore a battered brown hat, no necktie, and a suit of clothes which he might have stolen from some scarecrow.

"'Afternoon, young gents!" he said.

"Good afternoon," answered Jack shortly, stepping out into the road.

The stranger turned and walked at their side.

"You may not remember me, gents, but I'm Ned Hanks."

"I don't care who you are," answered Valentine; "I don't know you."

"Oh, but I know you, sir; it's Mr. Fenleigh I'm a-talking to. I thought, perhaps, you might like to stand me a drink."

"I say, just be off," cried Jack sharply, "here's old Westford coming."

The man fell back, and a moment later the two boys raised their caps to the headmaster. Mr. Westford acknowledged their salutation with a cold stare, which clearly showed that he had seen their late companion, and was wondering what business two of his pupils had to be talking with such a vagabond.

"I wonder who that fellow was!" said Jack.

"Oh, some tramp. I never saw him before."

"But he knew your name."

"Well, these beggars are up to all kinds of dodges," answered Valentine. "If we'd waited long enough, I daresay he'd have told me the names of all the family!"

CHAPTER VIII.

A BANQUET AT "DUSTER'S."

"It must have been the fault of the black goblin who lived in the snuff-box." – The Brave Tin Soldier.

At Easter, Jack and Valentine got their remove into the Fifth, and there became acquainted with a young gentleman who rejoiced in the name of Tinkleby.

Tinkleby was a comical-looking fellow of medium height; he wore nippers, and had a perpetual smirk on his lips.

"Hallo, you two Fenleighs!" he said, coming up to them on the second morning of the term; "I suppose you'll join our society."

"What society?" asked Jack.

"The Fifth Form Literary Society."

"What's it for?" asked Valentine. "We're neither of us very literary."

"Well, to tell you the truth, the society isn't either. It's kept up for the sake of having a feed at the end of every summer term."