The Complete Short Stories of Evelyn Waugh - Evelyn Waugh [149]
Tamplin greeted him with “Bad luck, Wheatley. How many did you get? Was he tight?”; Charles with “Well, you’ve had a long hot-air with Graves. What on earth did he talk about?”
“It was all rather confidential,” said Wheatley solemnly.
“Oh, sorry.”
“No, I’ll tell you sometime if you promise to keep it to yourself.” Together they ascended the turret stair to their dormitory. “I say, have you noticed something? Apthorpe is in the Upper Anteroom this term. Have you ever known the junior house-captain anywhere except in the Lower Anteroom? I wonder how he worked it.”
“Why should he want to?”
“Because, my innocent, Wykham-Blake has been moved into the Upper Anteroom.”
“Tactful of Graves.”
“You know, I sometimes think perhaps we’ve rather misjudged Graves.”
“You didn’t think so in Hall.”
“No, but I’ve been thinking since.”
“You mean he’s been greasing up to you.”
“Well, all I can say is, when he wants to be decent, he is decent. I find we know quite a lot of the same people in the holidays. He once stayed on the moor next to ours.”
“I don’t see anything particularly decent in that.”
“Well, it makes a sort of link. He explained why he put O’Malley on the Settle. He’s a student of character, you know.”
“Who? O’Malley?”
“No, Graves. He said that’s the only reason he is a schoolmaster.”
“I expect he’s a schoolmaster because it’s so jolly slack.”
“Not at all. As a matter of fact, he was going into the Diplomatic, just as I am.”
“I don’t expect he could pass the exam. It’s frightfully stiff. Graves only takes the Middle Fourth.”
“The exam is only to keep out undesirable types.”
“Then it would floor Graves.”
“He says schoolmastering is the most human calling in the world. Spierpoint is not an arena for competition. We have to stop the weakest going to the wall.”
“Did Graves say that?”
“Yes.”
“I must remember that if there’s any unpleasantness with Peacock. What else did he say?”
“Oh, we talked about people, you know, and their characters. Would you say O’Malley had poise?”
“Good God, no.”
“That’s just what Graves thinks. He says some people have it naturally and they can look after themselves. Others, like O’Malley, need bringing on. He thinks authority will give O’Malley poise.”
“Well, it doesn’t seem to have worked yet,” said Charles, as O’Malley loped past their beds to his corner.
“Welcome to the head of the dormitory,” said Tamplin. “Are we all late? Are you going to report us?”
O’Malley looked at his watch. “As a matter of fact, you have exactly seven minutes.”
“Not by my watch.”
“We go by mine.”
“Really,” said Tamplin. “Has your watch been put on the Settle, too? It looks a cheap kind of instrument to me.”
“When I am speaking officially I don’t want any impertinence, Tamplin.”
“His watch has been put on the Settle. It’s the first time I ever heard one could be impertinent to a watch.”
They undressed and washed their teeth. O’Malley looked repeatedly at his watch and at last said, “Say your dibs.”
Everyone knelt at his bedside and buried his face in the bedclothes. After a minute, in quick succession, they rose and got into bed; all save Tamplin who remained kneeling. O’Malley stood in the middle of the dormitory, irresolute, his hand on the chain of the gas-lamp. Three minutes passed; it was the convention that no one spoke while anyone was still saying his prayers; several boys began to giggle. “Hurry up,” said O’Malley.
Tamplin raised a face of pained rebuke. “Please, O’Malley. I’m saying my dibs.”
“Well, you’re late.”
Tamplin remained with his face buried in the blanket. O’Malley pulled the chain and extinguished the light, all save the pale glow of the bye-pass under the white enamel shade. It was the custom, when doing this, to say “Good-night”; but Tamplin was still ostensibly in prayer; in this black predicament O’Malley stalked to his bed in silence.
“Aren’t you going to say ‘Good-night’ to us?” asked Charles.
“Good-night.”
A dozen voices irregularly took up the cry. “Good-night, O’Malley . . . I hope the official watch doesn’t stop in the night . . . happy dreams, O’Malley.