looked sad, which he was not. Trevor was shorter, and very much
in earnest over all that he did. On the present occasion he was measuring out
tea with a concentration worthy of a general planning a campaign.
“One
for the pot,” said Clowes.
“All
right,” breathed Trevor. “Come and help, you slacker.”
“Too
busy.”
“You
aren’t doing a stroke.”
“My
lad, I’m thinking of Life. That’s a thing you couldn’t do. I often say to
people, ‘Good chap, Trevor, but can’t think of Life. Give him a teapot and half
a pound of butter to mess about with,’ I say, ‘and he’s all right. But when it
comes to deep thought, where is he? Among the also-rans.’ That’s what I say.”
“Silly
ass,” said Trevor, slicing bread. “What particular rot were you thinking about
just then? What fun it was sitting back and watching other fellows work, I
should think.”
“My
mind at the moment,” said Clowes, “was tensely occupied with the problem of
brothers at school. Have you got any brothers, Trevor?”
“One. Couple
of years younger than me. I say, we shall want some more jam tomorrow. Better
order it today.”
“See it
done, Tigellinus, as our old pal Nero used to remark. Where is he? Your
brother, I mean.”
“Marlborough.”
“That
shows your sense. I have always had a high opinion of your sense, Trevor. If
you’d been a silly ass, you’d have let your people send him here.”
“Why
not? Shouldn’t have minded.”
“I
withdraw what I said about your sense. Consider it unsaid. I have a brother
myself. Aged fifteen. Not a bad chap in his way. Like the heroes of the school
stories. ‘Big blue eyes literally bubbling over with fun.’ At least, I suppose it’s
fun to him. Cheek’s what I call it. My people wanted to send him here. I lodged
a protest. I said, ‘One Clowes is ample for any public school.”’
“You
were right there,” said Trevor.
“I
said, ‘One Clowes is luxury, two excess.’ I pointed out that I was just on the
verge of becoming rather a blood at Wrykyn, and that I didn’t want the work of
years spoiled by a brother who would think it a rag to tell fellows who
respected and admired me—”
“Such
as who?”
“—Anecdotes
of a chequered infancy. There are stories about me which only my brother knows.
Did I want them spread about the school? No, laddie, I did not. Hence, we see
my brother two terms ago, packing up his little box, and tooling off to Rugby.
And here am I at Wrykyn, with an unstained reputation, loved by all who know
me, revered by all who don’t; courted by boys, fawned upon by masters. People’s
faces brighten when I throw them a nod. If I frown—”
“Oh,
come on,” said Trevor.
Bread
and jam and cake monopolized Clowes’s attention for the next quarter of an
hour. At the end of that period, however, he returned to his subject.
“After
the serious business of the meal was concluded, and a simple hymn had been sung
by those present,” he said, “Mr. Clowes resumed his very interesting remarks.
We were on the subject of brothers at school. Now, take the melancholy case of
Jackson Brothers. My heart bleeds for Bob.”
“Jackson’s
all right. What’s wrong with him? Besides, naturally, young Jackson came to
Wrykyn when all his brothers had been here.”
“What a
rotten argument. It’s just the one used by chaps’ people, too. They think how
nice it will be for all the sons to have been at the same school. It may be all
right after they’ve left, but while they’re there, it’s the limit. You say
Jackson’s all right. At present, perhaps, he is. But the term’s hardly started
yet.”
“Well?”
“Look
here, what’s at the bottom of this sending young brothers to the same school as
elder brothers?”
“Elder
brother can keep an eye on him, I suppose.”
“That’s
just it. For once in your life you’ve touched the spot. In other words, Bob
Jackson is practically responsible for the kid. That’s where the whole