Mike Read online

  CHAPTER LII

  ON THE TRAIL AGAIN

  The most massive minds are apt to forget things at times. The mostadroit plotters make their little mistakes. Psmith was no exception tothe rule. He made the mistake of not telling Mike of the afternoon'shappenings.

  It was not altogether forgetfulness. Psmith was one of those peoplewho like to carry through their operations entirely by themselves.Where there is only one in a secret the secret is more liable toremain unrevealed. There was nothing, he thought, to be gained fromtelling Mike. He forgot what the consequences might be if he did not.

  So Psmith kept his own counsel, with the result that Mike went over toschool on the Monday morning in pumps.

  Edmund, summoned from the hinterland of the house to give his opinionwhy only one of Mike's boots was to be found, had no views on thesubject. He seemed to look on it as one of those things which nofellow can understand.

  "'Ere's one of 'em, Mr. Jackson," he said, as if he hoped that Mikemight be satisfied with a compromise.

  "One? What's the good of that, Edmund, you chump? I can't go over toschool in one boot."

  Edmund turned this over in his mind, and then said, "No, sir," as muchas to say, "I may have lost a boot, but, thank goodness, I can stillunderstand sound reasoning."

  "Well, what am I to do? Where is the other boot?"

  "Don't know, Mr. Jackson," replied Edmund to both questions.

  "Well, I mean--Oh, dash it, there's the bell."

  And Mike sprinted off in the pumps he stood in.

  It is only a deviation from those ordinary rules of school life, whichone observes naturally and without thinking, that enables one torealise how strong public-school prejudices really are. At a school,for instance, where the regulations say that coats only of blackor dark blue are to be worn, a boy who appears one day in even themost respectable and unostentatious brown finds himself looked onwith a mixture of awe and repulsion, which would be excessive if hehad sand-bagged the headmaster. So in the case of boots. School rulesdecree that a boy shall go to his form-room in boots, There is no realreason why, if the day is fine, he should not wear shoes, should heprefer them. But, if he does, the thing creates a perfect sensation.Boys say, "Great Scott, what _have_ you got on?" Masters say,"Jones, _what_ are you wearing on your feet?" In the few minuteswhich elapse between the assembling of the form for call-over and thearrival of the form-master, some wag is sure either to stamp on theshoes, accompanying the act with some satirical remark, or else topull one of them off, and inaugurate an impromptu game of footballwith it. There was once a boy who went to school one morning inelastic-sided boots....

  Mike had always been coldly distant in his relations to the rest ofhis form, looking on them, with a few exceptions, as worms; and theform, since his innings against Downing's on the Friday, had regardedMike with respect. So that he escaped the ragging he would have had toundergo at Wrykyn in similar circumstances. It was only Mr. Downingwho gave trouble.

  There is a sort of instinct which enables some masters to tell when aboy in their form is wearing shoes instead of boots, just as peoplewho dislike cats always know when one is in a room with them. Theycannot see it, but they feel it in their bones.

  Mr. Downing was perhaps the most bigoted anti-shoeist in the wholelist of English schoolmasters. He waged war remorselessly againstshoes. Satire, abuse, lines, detention--every weapon was employed byhim in dealing with their wearers. It had been the late Dunster'spractice always to go over to school in shoes when, as he usually did,he felt shaky in the morning's lesson. Mr. Downing always detected himin the first five minutes, and that meant a lecture of anything fromten minutes to a quarter of an hour on Untidy Habits and Boys WhoLooked like Loafers--which broke the back of the morning's worknicely. On one occasion, when a particularly tricky bit of Livy was onthe bill of fare, Dunster had entered the form-room in heel-lessTurkish bath-slippers, of a vivid crimson; and the subsequentproceedings, including his journey over to the house to change theheel-less atrocities, had seen him through very nearly to the quarterto eleven interval.

  Mike, accordingly, had not been in his place for three minutes whenMr. Downing, stiffening like a pointer, called his name.

  "Yes, sir?" said Mike.

  "_What_ are you wearing on your feet, Jackson?"

  "Pumps, sir."

  "You are wearing pumps? Are you not aware that PUMPS are not theproper things to come to school in? Why are you wearing _PUMPS_?"

  The form, leaning back against the next row of desks, settled itselfcomfortably for the address from the throne.

  "I have lost one of my boots, sir."

  A kind of gulp escaped from Mr. Downing's lips. He stared at Mike fora moment in silence. Then, turning to Stone, he told him to starttranslating.

  Stone, who had been expecting at least ten minutes' respite, was takenunawares. When he found the place in his book and began to construe,he floundered hopelessly. But, to his growing surprise andsatisfaction, the form-master appeared to notice nothing wrong. Hesaid "Yes, yes," mechanically, and finally "That will do," whereuponStone resumed his seat with the feeling that the age of miracles hadreturned.

  Mr. Downing's mind was in a whirl. His case was complete. Mike'sappearance in shoes, with the explanation that he had lost a boot,completed the chain. As Columbus must have felt when his ship ran intoharbour, and the first American interviewer, jumping on board, said,"Wal, sir, and what are your impressions of our glorious country?" sodid Mr. Downing feel at that moment.

  When the bell rang at a quarter to eleven, he gathered up his gown,and sped to the headmaster.