CHAPTER 7

And so it stood, a warm and vivid patch in his hfe, casting a radiance that
glowed in a thousand recollections Twilight at Mrs Wickett’s, when the schoo!
bell clanged for call-over, brought them, back to him m a cloud —— Katherine
scampering along the stone corridors, [aughing beside him at some “howler” in
an essay he was marking, taking the ‘cello part in a Mozart trio for the School
concert — her creamy arm sweeping over the brown sheen of the instrument.
She had been a good player and a fine musician. And Katherme furred and
muffed for the December house-matches, Katherme at the garden party that
followed Speech Day Prize-giving, Katherine tendering her advice in any little
problem that arose Good advice, too — which he did not always take, but which
always influenced him
“Chips, dear, I'd let them off if | were you After all, it’s nothing very
serious.”
“I know. I'd like to let them off, but rf 1 do I'm afraid they'll do 1t again.”
“Try telling them that, frankly. and give them the chance ”
“L might ”
And there were other things, occasionally, that were serious.
“You know, Chips, having all these hundreds of boys cooped up here 1s
really an unnatural arrangement, when you come to think about it. So that when
anything does occur that oughtn’t to, don’t you think it’s a bit unfair to come
down on them as if rt were their own fault for being here?”
“Don't known about that, Kathie, but | do know that, for everybody's
sake, we have to be pretty strict about this sort of thing. One black sheep can
contaminate others”,
“After he himself has been contannnated to begin with After all, that's
what probably did happen, isn't 1t?”
“May be We can't help it Anyhow, I believe Brookfield 1s better than a
lot of other schools. All the more reason to heep it so ”
"But this boy, Chips You're gowg to sack him?”
“The Head prebably will, when I tell hitn "
“And you're going to tell the Head?”
"It's a duty, I’m afraid ”
“Couldn't you think about it a bit . Talk to the boy again . Find out
how it began After all — apart from this busimess — isn't he rather a nice
boy?”
“Oh, he’s all right *
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 “Then, Chips dear, don’t you think there ought to be some other way....”
And so on. About once in ten times he was adamant and wouldn't be
persuaded In about half of these exceptional cases he afterwards rather wished
he had taken her advice. And years later, whenever he had trouble with a boy, he
was always at the mercy of a softening wave of reminiscence, the boy would
stand there, waiting to be told his pumshment, and would see, if he were
observant, the brown eyes twinkle into a shine that told him all was well But he
did not guess that at such a moment Chips was remembering something that
had happened long before he was born, that Chips was thinking. Young ruffian,
I'm hanged if I can think of any reason to let him off, but I'll bet she would have
done!
But she had not always pleaded for leniency. On rather rare occasions she
urged severity where Chips was inclined to be forging “I don’t hke his type,
Chips He’s too cocksure of himself If he’s looking for trouble I should certainly
let him have 1t.”
What a host of little meidents, all deep-buried in the past — problems that
had once been urgent, arguments that had once been keen, anecdotes that were
funny only because one remembered the fun Did any emotion really matter
when the last trace of 1t had vanished from human memory, and if that were so,
what a crowd of emotions clung to him as to their last home before anminlation!
He must be kind to them, must treasure them in his mind before their long
sleep That affairs of Archer's resignation, for instance — a queer business, that
was And that affair about the rat that Dunster put in the organ-loft while old
Ogilvie was taking choir-practice. Ogilvie was dead and Dunster drowned at
Jutland, of others who had witnessed or heard of the incident, probably most
had forgotten. And 1t had been like that, with other incidents, for centunes. He
had a sudden vision of thousands and thousands of boys, from the age of
Elizabeth onwards, dynasty upon dynasty of masters; long epochs of Brookfield
history that had left not even a ghostly record. Who knew why the old fifth-form
room was called “the Pit"? There was probably a reason, to begin with, but tt
had since been lost - lost like the lost books for Livy. And what happened at
Brookfield when Cromwell fought at Naseby, near by? How did Brookfield react
to the great scare of the forty-five? Was there a whole holiday when news came
of Waterloo? And so on, up to the earlest time that he himself could remember
— 1870, and Wetherby saying, by way of small talk after their first and only
interview: “looks as if we snell have to settle with the Prussians ourselves one of
these fine days, eh?”
When Chips remembered things like this he often felt that he would write
them down and make a book of them; and during his years at Mrs. Wickett's he
sometimes went even so far as to make desultory notes in an exercise-book. But
he was soon brought up against difficulties — the chief one being that writing
tired him, both mentally and physically. Somehow, toa, bis recollections lost
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much of their flavour when they were wntten down; that story about Rushton
and the sack of potatoes for stance — 1t would seem quite tame in print, but,
Lord, how funny it had been, at the time! It was funny, too, to remember tt,
though, perhaps, 1f you didn’t remember Rushton . and who would, anyway,
after all those years? . it wassuchalongtimeago Mrs Wickett, did you ever
know a fellow named Rushton; Before your time, I daresay Went to Burma in
some Government job orwasit Borneo. very funny fellow, Rushton
And there he was, dreaming again before the fire, dreaming of times and
ineidents in which he alone could take secret interest Funny and sad, comic and
tragic, they all mixed up in his mind, and some day, however hard it proved, he
would sort them out and make a book of them .

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