School. How John recalled his own
feelings, less than a year ago, as he stood shivering upon the bank of
the river, funking the first plunge! And his uncle, now sitting beside
him, had said that he would soon enjoy himself amazingly--and so he had!
The new boy began the second verse. His voice, not a strong one,
quavered shrilly--
"A quarter to seven! There goes the bell!
The sleet is driving against the pane;
But woe to the sluggard who turns again
And sleeps, not wisely, but all too well!"
In reply to the weak, timid notes came the glad roar of the School--
"Yet the time may come, as the years go by,
When your heart will thrill
At the thought of the Hill,
And the pitiless bell, with its piercing cry!"
Ah, that pitiless bell! And yet because of it one wallowed in Sunday and
whole-holiday "frowsts."[24] John, you see, had the makings of a
philosopher. And now the Eleven were grunting "Willow the King." And
when the last echo of the chorus died away in the great room, Uncle John
whispered to his nephew that he had heard Harrow songs in every corner
of the earth, and that convincing proof of merit shone out of the fact
that their charm waxed rather than waned with the years; they improved,
like wine, with age.
Caesar's father came down with the Duke of Trent. The duke tipped John
magnificently and asked him to spend his exeat at Trent House, and to
witness the Eton and Harrow match at Lord's from the Trent coach. John
accepted gratefully enough; but his heart was sore because, just before
the row over that infernal word "inestimable," Caesar had asked John if
he would like to occupy an attic in Eaton Square. After the row nothing
more was said about the attic; but John would have preferred bare boards
in Eaton Square to a tapestried chamber in Park Lane.
Now, during the whole of this summer term there was much animated
discussion in regard to the rival claims of lines or spots upon the
white waistcoat worn by all self-respecting Harrovians at Lord's. Upon
this important subject John had betrayed scandalous indifference.
Accordingly, just before the match, the Caterpillar took him aside and
spoke a solemn word.
"Look here," he said; "one doesn't as a rule make personal remarks, but
it's rather too obvious that you buy your clothes in Lyndhurst. I was
sorry to see that the Duke of Trent was the worst-dressed man at
Speecher; but a duke can look like a tinker, and nob
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