The Trial [43]
said Tom, 'is turning out a muscular Christian on her hands.' 'Is a muscular Christian one who has muscles, or one who trusts in muscles?' asked Ethel. 'Or a better cricketer than an Etonian?' added the Doctor. Tom and Aubrey returned demonstrations that Eton's glory was untarnished, and the defeat solely owing to 'such a set of sticks.' 'Aubrey,' said Ethel, in their first private moment, 'was this a fight in a good cause? for if so, I will come down with you and see him.' Aubrey made a face of dissuasion, ending in a whistle. 'Do at least tell me it is nothing I should be sorry for,' she said anxiously. He screwed his face into an intended likeness of Ethel's imitation of an orchis, winked one eye, and looked comical. 'I see it can't be really bad,' said Ethel, 'so I will rest on your assurance, and ask no indiscreet questions.' 'You didn't see, then?' said Aubrey, aggrieved at the failure of his imitation. 'You don't remember the beauty he met at Coombe?' 'Beauty! None but Mab.' 'Well, they found it out and chaffed him. Fielder said he would cut out as good a face out of an old knob of apple wood, and the doctor in petticoats came up again; he got into one of his rages, and they had no end of a shindy, better than any, they say, since Lake and Benson fifteen years ago; but Ward was in too great a passion, or he would have done for Fielder long before old Hoxton was seen mooning that way. So you see, if any of the fellows should be about, it would never do for you to be seen going to bind up his wounds, but I can tell him you are much obliged, and all that.' 'Obliged, indeed!' said Ethel. 'What, for making me the laughing- stock of the school?' 'No, indeed,' cried Aubrey, distressed. 'He said not a word--they only found it out--because he found that seat for you, and papa sent him away with you. They only meant to poke fun, and it was his caring that made it come home to him. I wonder you don't like to find that such a fellow stood up for you.' 'I don't like to be made ridiculous.' 'Tom does not know it, and shall not,' eagerly interposed Aubrey. 'Thank you,' said she, with all her heart. 'Then don't be savage. You know he can't help it if he does think you so handsome, and it is very hard that you should be affronted with him, just when he can't see out of one of his eyes.' 'For that matter,' said Ethel, her voice trembling, 'one likes generosity in any sort of a cause; but as to this, the only way is to laugh at it.' Aubrey thought this 'only way' hardly taken by the cachinnation with which she left him, for he was sure that her eyes were full of tears; and after mature consideration he decided that he should only get into a fresh scrape by letting Leonard know that she was aware of the combat and its motive. 'If I were ten years younger, this might be serious,' meditated Ethel. 'Happily, it is only a droll adventure for me in my old age, and I have heard say that a little raving for a grown-up woman is a wholesome sort of delusion, at his time of life. So I need not worry about it, and it is pretty and touching while it lasts, good fellow!' Ethel had, in fact, little occasion to worry herself; for all special manifestations of Leonard's devotion ceased. Whether it were that Tom with his grave satirical manner contrived to render the house disagreeable to both brother and sister, or whether Leonard's boyish bashfulness had taken alarm, and his admiration expended itself in the battle for her charms, there was no knowing. All that was certain was, that the Wards seldom appeared at Dr. May's, although elsewhere Mary and Aubrey saw a great deal of their respective friends, and through both, Ethel heard from time to time of Leonard, chiefly as working hard at school, but finding that his illness had cost him not only the last half year's learning, but some memory and power of application. He was merging into the ordinary schoolboy--a very good thing for him no doubt, though less beautiful than those Coombe fancies. And what were they worth?
CHAPTER VII
Little specks of daily trouble-- Petty grievance,
CHAPTER VII
Little specks of daily trouble-- Petty grievance,