CHAPTER XI.

A MEMORABLE FIGHT.

TOM did not go to school in the best of humours that Monday afternoon, but plodded sulkily through his lessons. He did not try to please his teacher by taking any great pains with his task, nor did he try to bear more patiently the rude country curiosity of his school-mates.

When school was over, he dawdled along the road towards home, still thinking rather bitterly of what his mother had said, and how little she understood the difficulties in his way, when he was suddenly confronted with a big stolid-looking boy, who said in an aggressive tone:

"What be you coming here for, and putting the teacher up to getting harder books for the little uns? I've been to that school, I have, though I ain't no scholard now, and I tell you, you aren't going to do just as you like along of us, so take that," and the big bully felled Tom to the ground with one blow of his fist.

"What do you mean by that?" said Tom, springing to his feet again as soon as he could, and following his antagonist, who seemed disposed to walk off when he saw Tom on his feet again.

"Look here! if you want to fight, and ain't a coward as well as a bully, I'm ready for you." And Tom threw off his jacket, while the boys of the village gathered round to see the fun, and cheer their champion.

"Give it him, Bill. Knock the stuffing out of him this time," shouted one boy, whom Tom recognised as a class-mate. And this lad danced with glee when he saw the big boy turn and face Tom.

"If you want a hiding, you can have it," he said, speaking to Tom; and he made another heavy lunge at Tom.

But he was prepared for it this time, and eluded his antagonist in such a fashion that he managed to plant a well-aimed blow the next minute between the other's eyes, which was so unexpected that he struck out wildly and blindly in all directions, while Tom contrived to dodge about in such a nimble manner that his heavier antagonist had very little chance of dealing another blow like the first.

The boys shouted for their champion at first, but Tom's pluck and clever dodging of his attempted blows compelled their admiration, so that before the fight was over, only Bill's little brother was found shouting,—

"Give it him, Bill. Go it again, Bill; give him another like the first!"

The fight was still in progress, though Tom was looking white and exhausted, when one of the teachers came along, and seeing Tom was ready to drop, though still parrying the blows of his foe, and getting one in where he could, he stepped into the midst of the crowd of boys.

"Now, Crane, what does this mean?" he demanded, sharply.

"Please, sir, it's all fair," gasped Tom, and then a deadly whiteness overspread his face, and to the consternation of the crowd, he dropped as he spoke, and lay helpless and motionless at Bill's feet.

Every boy felt sure Tom was dead, and an audible groan went up from the young rustics; and the redoubtable Bill took to his heels, and, roaring like a bull, fled down the village street, closely followed by his brother and the rest of the boys.

The teacher looked at Tom for a minute, as if debating what he had better do, then picked him up in his arms and carried him to the schoolmaster's house.

"Oh, is he dead? Is he dead?" groaned the invalid girl, when the teacher staggered in with his burden. She had been reclining in an easy-chair at the window, and had seen the whole fight. "Put him on the couch there, Mr. Thompson, and go and fetch mother; father hasn't come in from the church yet."

But Mr. Thompson fetched some water as soon as he could put Tom out of his arms, and did what he could to bring the boy to consciousness before running back to the school for Mrs. Murray. She had been there teaching the sewing-class, and looking after some girls who were kept in, while her husband went to the church to see the clergyman on some business connected with the school.

Tom had so far revived by the time his teacher got back with Mrs. Murray, that he was able to open his eyes and look at the girl by the window, and wonder where he could be.

"Are you better, my boy?" said his teacher, as he came in.

Mrs. Murray's first care was for her daughter. "You should not have brought him here, Mr. Thompson," she said, in a reproachful tone; "the shock will be too great for my poor Mollie."

"Never mind me; I am sure he must be ill," said the girl.

"No, no; I am better," said Tom, trying to raise himself; but he turned sick and faint when he attempted to move, and he closed his eyes in great disgust with himself, because he was so much upset by this fight.

In the meanwhile, the news had spread through the village like wild-fire, that big Bill Crane had beat the new chap till he dropped down dead, and this was the tale that gossiping Betsy Gunn carried to the cottage, where Mrs. Winn was setting the last stitches in Miss Perceval's dress.

In a minute the work was thrown down, and the widow, closely followed by Elsie, was on the way to the schoolmaster's house, where Betsy told them Tom had been carried. By the time she got there, the village constable had also arrived to know the exact truth of the matter before going in search of Bill Crane. Others, too, had gathered round, so that there was quite a commotion outside when Mr. Murray and the curate came upon the scene.

"What is it; what is the matter?" asked the schoolmaster, seeing Mrs. Winn's white, scared face as she came up to the door.

"My boy! My boy!" she panted, pushing her way in without ceremony.

Tom heard his mother's voice, and managed to gasp out, "Mother, mother, I am sorry."

The revulsion of feeling on hearing Tom speak, although his voice was faint and husky, was almost too much for the widow, and she sank down upon a chair exclaiming, "Thank God, he is alive!"

Elsie was scarcely less overcome, but she managed to explain that it was Betsy Gunn who had been to tell them that he was dead.

"It was all through that wicked Bill Crane," said Mary, from her place near the window. "It was really only a boy's fight, you know; only your brother fainted, and I was afraid he was dead at first."

Elsie went and kissed Tom to assure herself that he really was alive, and not much hurt, and then she went over to the window to speak to the invalid.

"I am so sorry Tom should have given you such a fright," she said, for she had heard Mrs. Murray telling the curate that this shock would be sure to make Mary worse. "I hope you will not really be ill through it," she added.

"Oh, it does not much matter, a little more or less illness, when one is so useless as I am," said the girl; but she allowed Elsie to hold her thin, white hand in her strong, capable one, and the contact of the warm fingers seemed to please her, and she said, "Let me hold your hand a minute; I like to feel hands like yours—they seem to do me good."

"What a funny fancy," laughed Elsie; but she gave the girl both her hands to hold, and for a minute or two the girls were left to themselves, while the rest were busy around Tom, who was reviving rapidly under the milk and brandy that was being given to him by Mrs. Murray and his mother.

By the time the doctor came upon the scene, the boy was able to sit up, and was preparing to walk home with his mother and sister.

"This should be a lesson to you against fighting," said the curate, as he was leaving.

"But that big fellow knocked him down first," said Mary, who heard the remark. "I think he did quite right to stand up and let Bill Crane know he could not bully everybody."

"Mary, Mary, you must not get so excited over this," said her mother, in some alarm.

But Elsie pressed the thin, nerveless fingers in thanks for the words spoken on Tom's behalf.

And the understanding between the girls was so far established that before Elsie went, Mary asked her to come and see her soon. "I am generally alone in the afternoon, because mother has to go to her sewing-class at the school, so if you could bring your sewing and sit with me for an hour, I should be very glad."

Mrs. Murray made some remark about Mary being kept quiet, but she could not second the girl's invitation. And so Elsie walked home feeling that Tom's fight might have some consequences not altogether unpleasant to herself, whatever they might bring to Tom.

For the present he was simply feeling a little weak and stiff, and he readily promised to go to bed as soon as he got home, and let them bring a meal to him after he had rested for an hour.

Beyond a few bruises, that were nothing to Tom, all the effects of the fight were over by the next morning, so far as Tom's health was concerned. And it would soon have been forgotten by Tom, or thought of only as other schoolboy battles were, but for what followed some weeks later.

Tom was working in the garden one Saturday afternoon about a month afterwards, when he was startled all at once by a well-known whistle, and looking up he saw to his delight and amazement his old friend Jack Bond looking over the wall.

"Oh, Jack, where did you spring from?" exclaimed Tom, in eager welcome. "Jump over, can't you?"

"Never fear but what I could do that, but my horse here won't take the leap."

"Got a horse!" said Tom. "Go to the gate then, and I'll come and let you in, though I don't know what we shall do with your nag."

"I'll stable him in the kitchen," said Jack, with a grin; and Tom ran up the garden to announce to his mother and sister that Jack had come.

Arrived at the front garden gate, Tom saw that the "horse" was a very high bicycle, which Jack proudly displayed to Tom.

"I couldn't have come all this way, you know, if I hadn't managed to buy this; for though we ain't more than ten or twelve miles away from you now, twelve miles there and back is too far for a walk. But with a jolly 'bike' like this, I can do it easy," said Jack.

"It is a fine big 'bike!' Why, it must have cost a little fortune."

"No; I got it cheap, because you see this sort are going out of fashion a bit. You see, I'm learning my father's trade, and can earn a little on my own account by working overtime. So when I found the foreman of our job had this 'bike' to sell, I stuck to it, and paid him a little every week till I'd paid half, and then he let me have it. By that time, I had found out that I could ride over to you on a Saturday afternoon, and get back by dark on this 'jigger,' and so I've come."

"And I'm glad enough to see you; and so come in and see my mother, and Elsie, and the baby."

After the "jigger" had been safely bestowed in the shed, Tom and Jack went into the garden for a confab. "What are you doing, Tom?" was Jack's first question when they were by themselves.

"Doing!" repeated Tom. "Why, I've done nearly all the garden; and you can see how it looks," said Tom, with some pride.

"Ah, yes it looks pretty tidy," said Jack, with a cursory glance round the neatly kept beds; "but look here, Tom, I've learned a thing or two since I've been on my job; and if I could have my time over again at school, I wouldn't play the fool there as I often did. I wonder the master had so much patience with us. But that isn't what I'd come to say. Do you know where my job is? Why, at a horticultural college, where they teach fellows to be first-rate gardeners! Now I thought, when I heard it, this is just the sort of place for Tom Winn, if he could only get here. And—"

Tom groaned. "Don't, Jack; don't tell me again what a fool I've been, I know it well enough."

"We were both fools, old fellow, in those days, and I was the worst, for I persuaded you not to go to that scholarship class, and led you into all the mischief. You've forgiven me, old fellow, I know, but I haven't forgiven myself; and I never shall, unless I can do something to make up for what I cost you that time. Well, now, I can see a chance. Do you go to school, old fellow?"

"Yes; but it's such a measly old school, that I expect if I was to ask about a scholarship they'd think it was something to eat."

"Never mind; where is it?" said Jack, impatiently.

"Why, here, to be sure, in Fairfield," answered Tom.

And then he thought that Jack must certainly have taken leave of his senses, for he threw his cap in the air, and shouted "Hip, hip, hurrah!" with such gusto that Elsie put her head out of the kitchen door to see what had happened.

And Tom said, rather curiously, "Are you subject to fits now, Jack?"

"Oh, it's the jolliest thing I ever heard of," said Jack, clapping Tom on the shoulder. "Why, my boy, if you only stick to your books, and let 'em see what you can do, it's as easy as pie to get a scholarship out of that measly old school."

Tom's eyes opened very wide. "How do you make that out?" he asked.

"Well, you know, I've thought of you, and what you might have done if you had only got a scholarship like your sister did, ever since I knew what we were building, and one day I said to my foreman, I know a bloke that would make a first-rate gardener if he could only come here and work in these gardens. The gardens are there already, you see, and they're just finishing the college, where there is to be lessons and lectures."

"Well, what did he say?" asked Tom, eagerly.

"'Why,' he said, 'your friend can come here, I expect, if he happens to go to one of the right schools. There's a list of 'em given, and I'll find out if you like the names of those who have a right to send a scholar here for a year or two. Somebody left a pot of money to this place on purpose.' Well, old fellow, you might have knocked me down with a feather when he read out the name of Fairfield.

"'That's it,' I said to him; 'and if Tom only goes to school again, we've done the trick.' I wasn't long paying for the rest of my 'bike;' and here I am, and there you are, a scholar of one of the schools who can send a boy to this college."

And Jack indulged in such a string of his old grimaces that Tom laughed as heartily as he had ever done in his life.

"Come in to tea," called Elsie at this point.

But instead of going in at once, Tom called her to come and hear the news.

"I say, Elsie, Jack tells me there is a chance for me to get a scholarship at this school, if I only like to try."

"Then that was what Mary meant the other evening when I was telling her about my scholarship," said Elsie. "She said their school had something like that, only nobody had ever won it, because the boys were slow and dull, and did not like book learning, as they called it. Oh, Tom, go and ask Mr. Murray about it directly after tea," said Elsie, excitedly.

And after some further talk, it was agreed that Jack should go with him and see if his information was correct, before the matter was mentioned to Mrs. Winn, who was not very well just now, and did not seem able to bear much worry.

So after tea, the two boys went out for a walk. And by way of excuse for calling upon the schoolmaster, Elsie gave her brother a book to take to her friend Mary.

"Can I speak to Mr. Murray, please?" said Tom, when Mrs. Murray would have taken the book without asking Tom to come in.

"You'll find him in the church, I think. Thank your sister for the book," she added.

The boys turned into the churchyard, for Jack was too anxious to hear that he had not wholly wrecked his friend's chances in life, to go home without knowing just what Tom might expect if he applied for this scholarship.

Anxiety lent them both courage; and so when they saw the schoolmaster and curate coming down the churchyard path, they stepped forward and met them.

"If you please, sir, is it true that there is a scholarship for our school if anybody can get it?"

"Do you mean for the horticultural college?" said the clergyman.

"Yes, sir. Tom would make a tip-top gardener if he could only get there," said bold Jack. And then he told them how he had spoiled Tom's former chance, and had just heard that one more remained, as he attended Fairfield village school.

"Why, we never thought of you wanting to be a gardener, Winn," said the schoolmaster, with a smile. "Let me see; how long have you been at school, my boy?"

"A little more than a month, sir," said Tom.

"Then he will have been here just about long enough to be nominated as a candidate," said the clergyman. "I am very glad you came to speak about it, for I was about to write and say we had no candidate ready. Now, I can say, we shall claim our right to nominate one; only, if you are not to disgrace us all, you will have to work very hard at your books through the summer."

"Yes, sir; I shall not mind that," said Tom, in a tumult of delight, that he could hardly speak.

"His sister won a scholarship before she came here," said Mr. Murray, "so I daresay, he knows something of what will be required of him. That will do, Winn; you can go and tell your mother I will do the best I can for you."

The boys indulged in a few gambols at their success before they went home, and then Jack suddenly grew grave, and said, "I had well-nigh forgotten something I meant to tell you. Just before we moved, which was a fortnight or three weeks after you had gone, I met Alfred Mearns with a chap who had been asking about you,—where you lived, and where you had gone.

"I didn't like the look of the chap, and so when he asked me to give him your address, I told him to go for a walk, for he wouldn't get me peaching on my friends. He told me a lot of blarney about something to your advantage, like the newspapers have it, but I said he might take that tale to the marines, for he wouldn't get anything out of me. I could see what he was after, for he had money written all over him."

"Money," repeated Tom.

"Why, yes; don't you twig? I expect your mother left a few debts owing at the shops. What else could be expected when you were ill so long, and nobody earning a penny all the time. I know what things are when father has been out of work for a week or too. So the next time I saw Alf, I said, 'If ever you should hear where Tom Winn has gone to live, forget it, for they won't want any of that sort of cattle after them where they are—'"

"But—but I don't think my mother owed anything at the shops," said Tom, thoughtfully.

"It isn't likely she'd let you know about it. Bless you, I know your mother. She's one of the brave sort, who will carry the care herself and let the children have the pleasure. But if you see her worrying, tell her there's nothing to fear, for I never let out a word, though I came to the station to see you off, and so she won't be pestered for money down here."

Tom was puzzled, and felt somewhat hurt that his friend should think it possible that they could leave the neighbourhood without paying their debts.

"My mother would never do such a mean thing, however poor she might be," he said.

"All right, I'm glad of it, old fellow; only I have heard of such things being done, if you haven't. And I thought if your mother had been driven to do it, she shouldn't be bothered about it. Perhaps the fellow wanted to sell her a sewing machine," he added, by way of changing the subject; for he could see that Tom was pained at the bare suggestion of such a thing being done by his mother.