Chapter One.

Twice Accepted.

The reader is requested kindly to glance through the following batch of letters, which, oddly enough, are all dated September 9th, 18—:

Number 1.—William Grover, M.A., Grandcourt School, to Mark Railsford, M.A., Lucerne.

“Grandcourt, September 9th.

“Dear Railsford,—I suppose this will catch you at Lucerne, on your way back to England. I was sorry to hear you had been seedy before you left London. Your trip is sure to have done you good, and if you only fell in with pleasant people I expect you will have enjoyed yourself considerably. What are you going to do when you get home—still follow the profession of a gentleman at large, or what? Term opened here again last week, and the Sixth came back to-day. I’m getting more reconciled to the place by this time; indeed, there is no work I like better than teaching, and if I was as certain it was as good for the boys as it is congenial to me I should be perfectly contented. My fellow-masters, with an exception or two, are good fellows, and let me alone. The exceptions are harder to get on with.

“As for the boys, I have a really nice lot in my house. One or two rowdies, who give me some bother, and one or two cads, with whom I am at war; but the rest are a festive, jovial crew, who tolerate their master when he lets them have their own way, and growl when he doesn’t; who work when they are so disposed, and drop idle with the least provocation; who lead me many a weary dance through the lobbies after the gas is out, and now and then come and make themselves agreeable in my rooms when I invite them.

“I fancied when I came here I should get lots of time to myself—enough perhaps to write my book on Comparative Political Economy. Vain hope! I haven’t time to turn round. If my days were twenty-six hours I should scarcely then do all I ought to do here. Ponsford is getting old, and leaves the executive to his lieutenants. He sits aloft like Zeus, hurls a thunderbolt now and then, and for the rest acts as a supreme court of appeal. Bickers, my opposite neighbour, is still a thorn in my side. I don’t know how it is, I try all I know, but I can’t get on with him, and have given him up. Moss, I believe, who is Master of the Shell and head of a house, has come to the end of his endurance, and there is some talk of his throwing up his place here. It would be a pity in many ways, and it might be hard to get a good man in his place.

“By the way, if there is a vacancy, why should not you enter the lists? I see you smile at the idea of anyone exchanging the profession of gentleman at large for that of Master of the Shell. But it’s worth a thought, any how. Let us know where and how you are; and if you can run down this way for a Sunday, do, and make glad the heart of your friend,—

“W. Grover.”

No. 2.—Arthur Herapath, Esquire, Lucerne, to Sir Digby Oakshott, Baronet, Grandcourt.

“Dear Dig,—Here’s a game! The gov’s been and lost a lot of the luggage, and ma won’t go home without it, so we’re booked here for a week more. He’s written to Ponsford to say I can’t turn up till next week, and says I’m doing some of the mug, so as not to be all behind. Jolly good joke of the gov.’s, isn’t it? Catch me mugging here!

“Stunning place, this! We went a picnic to—I say, by the way, while I remember it, do you know it’s all a howling cram about William Tell? There never was such a chap! This is the place he used to hang out in, and everyone says it’s all my eye what the history says about him. You’d better let Moss know. Tell him, from inquiries made by me on the spot, I find it’s all humbug, and he’d better get some chap to write a new history who knows something about it. I was asking Railsford—by the way, he’s a stunning chap. We ran up against him on the Saint Gothard, and he’s been with us ever since. No end of a cheese! Rowed in the Cambridge boat three years ago, Number 4, when Oxford won by two feet. He says when you’re rowing in a race you see nothing but the fellow’s back in front of you. He’s 6 feet 2, and scales 12 stone 14 pounds. That’s why they put him Number 4; but he rowed stroke in his college boat. He’s having a lot of fag about our luggage, but I’m in no hurry for it to turn up.

“How are all the fellows? I guess I’m missing a lot of fun this week. Get some of them to keep something; till I come back. How’s Tilbury? By the way, who am I stuck with this term? I don’t want to get chummed again with that young ass Simson. Tell Moss that. Any more rows with Bickers’s lot? There will be when I come back! I’ve got half a dozen of them in my eye. Gov. says I’ll have to wake up this term. What a go! If I don’t scrape into the Shell at Christmas, he says he’ll know the reason why! So look out for no-larks.

“This fellow Railsford’s put me up to a thing or two about mugging. He was a hot man at Cambridge, and says he knew Grover. He’s gone with Daisy up a mountain to-day. Wanted to take me, too, but I told them I didn’t see it. I tried it once, that was enough for me! Ta-ta, old man; keep your pecker up till I come, and then mind your eye!

“Yours truly,—

“A. Herapath, Ll.D.”

Number 3.—From Miss Daisy Herapath to Miss Emily Sherriff.

“Lucerne, Tuesday.

“My Dearest Milly,—We are in such trouble! Two of our boxes have been lost between Como and here. One of them contained my new black grenadine with the Spanish lace. I have positively nothing to wear; and had to appear at table d’hôte in my blue serge and one of mamma’s shawls. Just imagine! It is such a sad end to our holiday. I am longing to get home. Travelling abroad is all very nice, but one gets tired of it. I feel I shall like to settle down in town once more.

“Poor papa has had so much trouble with the boxes, and must, have spent pounds in telegrams. It was really Arthur’s fault. He sent the porter who was booking the luggage for us to get him some chocolate from the buffet, and the consequence was the train went off before all the boxes were put in the van. Dear Milly, never travel abroad with your young brother!

“I have been quite lazy about sketching the last few days. I can’t tell you how lovely some of the sunsets have been. It is the regular thing to sit out in the hotel grounds and watch them. I wish so often you could be here to share my pleasure, for papa and mamma are afraid to sit out, and Arthur is so unpoetical! There are a great many Americans here. The fashion of short steeves seems quite to be coming in again! I shall have to get mine altered as soon as I come home. Some of our party went up the Rigi to-day. The view from the top was beautiful; but the place is spoiled by the crowds of people who go up. I so much prefer the quieter excursions.

“I must go to bed now, dearest Milly. It will be lovely to see you soon. When one is away from home, one feels more than ever how nice it would be to have one’s friends always about one. (What a lot of ‘ones’!)

“Ever your very loving friend,—

“Daisy.

“P.S.—We met the Thompsons at Como. Did you know Edith was to be married this autumn, quite quietly, in the country? The Walkleys are here, and one or two other people we know. Arthur has struck up with a Cambridge fellow, named Railsford, whom we met on the Saint Gothard, and who took so much trouble about the luggage. It is so nice for Arthur to have a companion. Dearest Milly, he (M.R.) was one of the party who went up the Rigi to-day; he speaks German so well, and is so attentive to mamma. Don’t be too horribly curious, darling; I’ll tell you everything when I get home. (He is so good