the new head had dined well and in due course had retired to that wide room of heavy curtains and stained-glass windows wherein the grey man had always seemed so admirable a head. dr roe did not seem at all in keeping with that place of peaceful dignity. this had been one of the things that had troubled toby most. he was too loud of speech, too free of gesture, and he had not the upright presence which had been so memorable a part of the man whose hair and eyes and clothing had been grey.
the new head had retired to his study that evening much as a dog retires to his kennel with a bone. he had taken papers and a long cigar and had sat down heavily in the great arm-chair beside the fireplace; then, leaning back, he had rested his head against a blue plush cushion, with a sigh of deep content. now his eyes passed slowly round the room, taking in previously unnoticed features, and at last came back to the fire, where they fixed a sleepy gaze upon some vision in the glowing coals. it was a small fire, for summer had scarcely passed, but dr roe was a lover of fires and he had ordered this especially. he poked it with his boot and upset a few cinders into the grate. finally, he considered the papers he had brought with him for perusal. they seemed but faintly interesting, and eventually the memory of his dinner proved too much: slowly his eyes closed. within a few moments the new 95headmaster of harley was dozing in his chair with nodding head and mouth agape.
now whilst he dozed he had a dream. it was the usual silly sort of dream and he found himself cast for the part of king. he was only the king of one of those insignificant little states whose troubles form the plot of many a comic opera, but that is better than not being a king at all, and at all events he was surprisingly well loved. in his dream the whole populace were acclaiming him. he was being bombarded with flowers. his courtiers (amongst whom might be noticed the school bursar looking very natty in red velvet) stood smilingly around him, bowing and waving to the swaying crowd gathered before his window. he himself was behaving in a kingly but somewhat distant manner, and once when an ornamental basket of hollyhocks had caught him a crashing blow between the eyes he had shown annoyance. it seemed clear in this dream, however, that sooner or later he would have to make a speech, and as he considered himself by no means a bad speaker he did not keep the crowd waiting any longer than was proper.
that part of his dream in which he rose to his feet with a handful of red robe clutched at his hip was extremely lifelike.
he was standing on a balcony looking down upon his people, and he was only faintly conscious in his dream that this balcony was the window-sill of his present study.
at first the crowd could not restrain their delight at all. whether this was because they had at last got something good at which to aim their missiles, or whether they were honestly glad to see him looking so well, we cannot judge, but it was a long time before he could obtain a hearing. they simply cheered and cheered and cheered. one man even 96threw his hat into the air and delayed proceedings for a long time by stubbornly trying to find it again. eventually the head’s reception grew to such a pitch that something had to be done about it.
so he woke up.
he did so with a jerk, and found himself staring at the school porter, who in his turn was staring back at him.
there was an extraordinary noise in progress; well, perhaps hardly a noise—the subdued shuffle of feet—the sound of a vast crowd endeavouring to move quietly. at first the head took this to be some part of his dream which had not entirely vanished, but it continued, and at last he dropped his eyes thoughtfully, looked up again at the porter and said:
“hammond, what is that noise?”
hammond, who had loved the grey man himself, had received strict instructions that he was on no account to answer any question of this kind in such words as: “it’s the boys, sir.” the boys he understood would be trying their best to pretend they weren’t there. hammond did his best to induce the head to believe it.
“what noise, sir?” said he.
the headmaster gazed at him dubiously, and at last decided for reasons of his own not to press the point; he was under a strong impression that a good part of his dream was obstinately refusing to fade away, and he was conscious of a keen desire to move across to the curtains and draw them aside. he was prepared to bet with himself that the crowd he had seen in his dreams was not so mythical as he had at first supposed. the porter, however, gave him no time to secure proof. he had a one-line part in the evening’s drama and he spoke it with pride.
his voice was loud and clear, even a little pompous:
97“the captain of the school, sir, wishes to speak to you.”
the head peered at him.
“who?”
“the captain of the school, sir.”
“what does he want?”
hammond was respectfully patient.
“he wants to see you, sir.”
“to see me? who? who does?”
dr roe, you see, was still paying only partial attention.
this time hammond made no answer at all. he merely stared at the head.
dr roe tumbled to it suddenly. he had still been wondering what was really happening outside his window, but the sight of the school porter’s pitiful stare brought him to his senses abruptly. he waved a hand.
“well, well,” said he, “show him in.”
hammond went like a rat from a cage.
next moment the door opened again and pointon appeared, a tall, studious young man considerably impressed with the importance of the occasion.
he was not alone. as he entered, the head saw a string of young men behind him, and he rose to his feet in surprise.
“what is this?”
pointon spoke in a calm voice. if anything the head was the more excited of the two.
“some prefects of the school ask to be allowed to speak to you, sir.”
“what is it about?”
the deputation moved into the room, looked round almost instinctively for the grey man, and then brought their eyes to bear, as one man, upon the head who had taken his place.
“about rouse, sir,” said pointon. “they wish me as their spokesman to tell you that rouse is the 98only fellow they wish to elect as captain of football, and they ask you to——”
the head advanced upon them in growing anger.
“then it is quite useless,” he replied. “you would have done better not to have come. my mind is irrevocably made up. i come from wilton, and at that school they knew me before i left to be a man of iron determination. by trying to dissuade me you will only make me more resolute. i have made my decision and communicated it to the school. i expect you to abide by that decision without a murmur. to come here like this is a sign of weakness amongst those whom i expected to set the school an example, and it is very displeasing to me.”
“will you hear us, sir?” said smythe. “there are some things which we think you can’t realise.”
dr roe turned upon him irritably.
“no,” said he, “i will not hear you. i have heard more than enough of this matter. you are one and all making a mountain out of a mole-hill. it is preposterous to suggest that there is only one boy in a great public school like this who is agreeable to you as captain of football. if you had only eyes to see, you would understand for yourselves what i saw in twenty-four hours and was in time to prevent. rouse is the one boy here who is least suited of any of you for the post. you cannot see that for yourselves and it is my duty to guide you; it is my intention to do my duty with a will of iron. they knew me at wilton, and before very long you will know me here.” he paused. they were sullenly quiet. “well,” he said, “are you prepared to elect a captain?”
for a moment there was absolute silence.
pointon turned and looked round his deputation as if for support. at last terence nicholson spoke.
“the head advanced upon them in growing anger.”
99“no, sir,” said he; “we are not. you won’t hear us and you don’t understand.”
he drew back and fixed terence with a wrathful glare.
“mr nicholson has said everything you could say over and over again. there is no scope left for argument at all. i understand that you refuse to obey me. if so, you leave the election of a captain entirely in my hands. you refuse to elect your own?”
once again there was silence. and this time the silence was significant.
after toby’s experience they had not expected a fair hearing; the belief that dr roe was going to fight them was now a certainty.
the head turned and moved suddenly towards the window. his curiosity as to what was really happening outside would no longer be denied. he reached the curtain with outstretched hand and tugged it aside.
and then in the gathering dusk of late evening he saw what he had to combat. this little upheaval of school life had once seemed to him merely a mole-hill. but he had spoken truly: they had made of it a mountain. as far as the eye could reach there stretched a sea of faces showing above the clear white of schoolboys’ collars, very silent and very still, waiting as if for a signal from within. he stared out upon the scene for thirty seconds and at last he turned. even in this wide room the silence was tense. not one of the deputation seemed to be really drawing breath. the new head faced them sternly, his grim visage more than ever like the face of a bloodhound, his spectacles set firmly upon the broad bridge of his nose.
“what does that mean?” he said at last. “why are all those boys out there? what do they want?”
terence stepped forward boldly. there was the 100joy of battle in his eyes. “they want rouse, sir,” said he. “every mother’s son amongst them—and they are waiting for your answer.”
the head’s eyes hardened till they shone like steel.
“very well,” said he. “then you may make it known at once.” he paused and looked at each boy in turn, and at last he told them in slow emphatic words how he had planned his answer.
