They waded through hours of this kind of thing, but found no usury, or anything approaching to Beetle's gorgeous scale of interest. The seniors--for the school had no tradition of deference to prefects outside compulsory games--told them succinctly to go about their business. They would not give evidence on any terms. Harrison was one idiot, and Craye was another; but the greatest of all, they said, was their house-master.
When a house is thoroughly upset, however good its conscience, it breaks into knots and coteries--small gatherings, in the twilight, box-room committees, and groups in the corridor. And when from group to group, with an immense affectation of secrecy, three wicked boys steal, crying `Cavé' when there is no need of caution, and whispering `Don't tell!' on the heels of trumpery confidences that instant invented, a very fine air of plot and intrigue can be woven round such a house.
At the end of a few days, it dawned on Prout that he moved in an atmosphere of perpetual ambush. Mysteries hedged him on all sides, warnings ran before his heavy feet, and counter-signs were muttered behind his attentive back. M`Turk and Stalky invented many absurd and idle phrases--catch-words that swept through the house as fire through stubble. It was a rare jest, and the only practical outcome of the Usury Commission, that one boy should say to a friend, with awful gravity, `Do you think there's much of it going on in the house?' The other would reply, `Well, one can't be too careful, you know.' The effect on a house-master of humane conscience and good intent may be imagined. Again, a man who has sincerely devoted himself to gaining the esteem of his charges does not like to hear himself described, even at a distance, as `Popularity Prout' by a dark and scowling Celt with a fluent tongue. A rumour that stories--unusual stores--are told in the form-rooms, between the lights, by a boy who does not command his confidence, agitates such a man; and even elaborate and tender politeness--for the courtesy wise grown men offer to a bewildered child was the courtesy that Stalky wrapped round Prout--restores not his peace of mind.
`The tone of the house seems changed--changed for the worse,' said Prout to Harrison and Craye. `Have you noticed it? I don't for an instant impute--'
He never imputed anything; but, on the other hand, he never did anything else, and, with the best intentions in the world, he had reduced the house-prefects to a state as nearly bordering on nervous irritation as healthy boys can know. Worst of all, they began at times to wonder whether Stalky & Co. had not some truth in their often repeated assertions that Prout was `a gloomy ass.'
`As you know, I am not the kind of man who puts himself out for every little thing he hears. I believe in letting the house work out their own salvation--with a light guiding hand on the reins, of course. But there is a perceptible lack of reverence--a lower tone in matters that touch the honour of the house, a sort of hardness.'
"Oh, Prout he is a nobleman, a nobleman, a nobleman!
Our Heffy is a nobleman--
He does an awful lot,
Because his popularity--
Oh, pop-u-pop-u-larity--
His giddy popularity
Would suffer did he not!"
The study door stood ajar; and the song, borne by twenty clear voices, came faint from a form-room. The fags rather liked the tune; the words were Beetle's.
`That's a thing no sensible man objects to,' said Prout, with a lop-sided smile; `but, you know, straws show which way the wind blows. Can you trace it to any direct influence? I am speaking to you now as heads of the house.'
`There isn't the least doubt of it,' said Harrison angrily. `I know what you mean, sir. It all began when Number Five study came to the form-rooms. There's no use blinkin' it, Craye. You know that, too.'