The Senior Commoner by Julian Hall

Author:Julian Hall [Julian Hall]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780571287420
Publisher: Faber & Faber
Published: 2012-01-15T00:00:00+00:00

“I don’t think it was a good choice, but I liked it. Two days afterwards the Vice-Provost came up to me and said that he didn’t understand how I could have been so indelicate as to speak the words of a girl waiting for her lover on her bridal-night. He said he was shocked. Do you think he was right?”

Harold spoke very quickly and Convil had difficulty in hearing him. Scraps of other boys’ conversation came to his ears, and the horn of more than one car was sounding in the narrow lane.

“I say, do you mind saying that again?” he asked, touching Harold’s arm. “I didn’t quite understand.”

The boy repeated what he had said. Feeling Convil’s hand upon his arm, he absent-mindedly put his arm through Convil’s.

“Do you think he was right?” said Harold in conclusion. “Do you think it was indecent to have chosen that speech?”

Convil was not familiar with Romeo and Juliet, but he instantly replied:

“Of course not! I think it was a disgraceful thing to say!”

“Disgraceful of me or of Sawbury?”

“Of Sawbury. I think he has a most unpleasant mind.”

Harold laughed excitedly. He still did not realize that he was holding the other’s arm. They stopped by the entrance to McIsaacs’ house, Harold released Convil’s arm and led the way in.

“The stairs are narrow,” he remarked over his shoulder, “and I’m afraid there are a good many of them.”

As they passed the library, the door opened and Irman looked out. Harold and Convil went upstairs. A Junior flattened himself against the wall and took off his cap.

“One more flight,” said Harold.

They reached the top landing and went into Harold’s room. The window and the door were both open and several papers had blown on to the floor.

“This is very nice,” said Convil. “Do they let you have meals here?”

“Only tea. Please sit down. As a matter of fact I have tea in the room next door.”

Convil seated himself on the ottoman. Harold shut the door and picked up the papers from the floor. He switched on the light.

“The Head didn’t tell you that I’m a member of the Labour Party,” smiled Convil crossing his legs. “One of your Ayrtonian M.P.’s brought me down to see the School. I suppose you’re not interested in politics.”

“I’m very ignorant. I occasionally read the political news: that’s all.”

“But you’re a Conservative?”

“I’m not a Socialist.”

“The War made me a Socialist.” Convil lowered his head and thrust out his jaw. “I was a Consciencious Objector,” he added.

“Dear me! How brave you must be.”

“You have the perfect Ayrton manner,” laughed the little man. A picture on the wall caught his eye and he looked at it intently.

“Well, I’ve been at Ayrton for five years,” replied Harold, sitting down by his desk. “I should be interested, by the way, to know what the Ayrton manner is.”

“It’s a very calm manner and those who have it don’t face unpleasant facts.”

“I’m glad it’s no more. I thought you were going to say that we were all very stupid.

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