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There was always a scarcely-veiled threat about the mans words. If he had put them into plainer sentences they would have run: Your boys are nuisances, and if I am worried again, I will give you notice to leave.
Bother the surly old chap! Mr Ebden would exclaim under his breath, he has me fairly on the hip. I am a good tenant and he knows it, but for all that I can never have a long lease of the house. Two years is as much as he will allow; if he were to give me notice to quit, I should have precious little time to look about me, and then supposing I had to go elsewhere what would become of the school? I should lose half my pupils and half my income at one blow.
Consequently Mr Ebden took care to conciliate the old man; but not so his pupils. Amongst those mischievous lads Mr Julius Workman was known as old Bumble.
Old Bumble was voted a bore and a cantankerous Johnny, and each lad, finding that a shout annoyed him, took particular pains to lift his voice to the highest pitch whenever Bumble was in the vicinity.
Now the old gentleman was inordinately proud of the two plaster statues in the centre of the lake, and the lads at Ebdens knew it well. Often before had they thought of playing some practical joke at Bumbles expense, but never had they given it such deep consideration as upon this night. As they filed in to tea each was bothering his brains as to how a joke could be played upon him, and afterwards, as they sat at prep. with their books in front of them, the glorious life and deeds of Caesar were forgotten in a vision of Bumble surveying his statues.
Wheeler, what are you gazing at? Go on with your work, sir, Mr Ebdens voice suddenly rapped out.
Wheeler buried his head in his hands, and pretended to be very deep in his book. There was silence in the big room for a few minutes, and Mr Ebden once more bent over the letter with which he was occupied. A faint rustle in a far-off corner then attracted the attention of the boys, and, looking up, Phil watched a lad named Carrol spell off some words on his fingers.
Ive got it, they ran. Its about Old Bumbles statues.
Then, as the lads excitement increased, the message became unintelligible, and Phil sent back, Cant make it out. Start again.
By this time all the boys were on the qui vive and staring hard at Carrol. But a sudden movement on Mr Ebdens part and a sharp Go on with your work, boys! disturbed them. Another attempt failed for the same reason, and then Carrol seemed to give it up altogether. But a few minutes later, keeping a wary eye upon the master, who was sitting at his desk in the centre of the room, Carrol held up a slate upon which was written in large letters, Well tar and feather Old B.s statues.
Instantly a suppressed giggle went round the room, and the lads looked at one another with eyes which clearly said: By Jove! hes got it. What a joke it will be!
That night, when Ebdens was supposed to be buried in profound sleep, a council of war was held in Phils cubicle, at which the details of the plot were worked out.
Were certain to catch it hot, Phil remarked, with a smile, as, dressed in a flimsy night-gown, he sat on the edge of his bed, and surveyed the three lads squatting on the floor in front of him. Old Bumble will suspect us at once, and will do his best to find out which of us played the joke. But well do it, if only to show that we can. By Jove, I wonder what the old boy will do when he sees Hercules dressed like a hen? Hell simply blow up with rage, and I wouldnt miss the sight for worlds.
Theres safe to be a ruction, Wheeler broke in complacently, and some of us will get a licking. But what does it matter? Ebden will talk at us till we feel as limp as rags, and then hell cane us till we go as stiff as any poker. Then it will all be over, and well be as good friends as ever. Itll be a fine spree, and I vote we see about it to-morrow.
I take a share in it at any rate, cried Carrol, looking round at the others to see if they agreed, for he was usually left in the background. I invented the joke, remember that, you chaps.
Were all four of us in it, Phil answered gaily; and now how about the stuff? The feathers and the tar, I mean. Then we shall want a raft. I know we can buy some tar at Streakers, and a call at the poultry shop will get us heaps of feathers. Well manage that to-morrow, and dress our statue in the evening, between tea and prep.
The details of the prank to be played were quickly arranged, and soon Phils companions slipped off like ghosts, and he tumbled into bed and fell into a deep sleep.
The following evening, after dusk had fallen, four figures, each carrying a long school-form, slipped out through the back gate of Ebdens, and stole down to the lake.
Now for the raft, whispered Phil. Place them alongside one another and lash them with the rope.
In a few minutes a raft was constructed, but to the disgust of all the lads it was so light and frail that it was not even sufficient to support one of them.
Were done. Bother it! exclaimed Carrol.
The others stood without a word, and stared at the raft in deep vexation.
Its all right. Ive got it, you chaps, Phil suddenly cried in tones of excitement and pleasure. The lakes only a foot deep. Well shove one form out, and then put another in front of it, and so on till we reach the statue. The bottom is made of stone, so theres no fear of toppling over or sinking in mud.
A half-suppressed shout of joy answered him, and all at once set to work to make the bridge. It was easier than they had hoped, and before very long, by means of two extra forms, Hercules was reached. Then began the work of tar-and-feathering, an act of vandalism for which each and every one of them deserved a good thrashing, done though it was as a piece of pure boyish mischief, and in all thoughtlessness.
At length it was finished, and with hands and faces smeared with tar, and feathers sticking to their clothes, Phil and his boon companions returned silently to the house, and having hastily washed themselves took their places in prep. as though nothing had happened. But a scarcely-suppressed bubble of excitement and huge grins of amusement showed that all at Ebdens were conscious of the prank, save the worthy head himself, who, if he had only known, would there and then have gone out and done his best to clean the statue before the light of day disclosed it to Mr Julius Workman.
On the following afternoon a game of cricket was in progress, when a cry of Heres old Bumble! put a sudden stop to it, and the boys at once selected the nearest and best hiding-places from which to look on safely and observe all that happened.
Stalking pompously down the path leading from his own residence, Mr Julius Workman scarcely deigned to acknowledge the polite salute which two of the lads gave him. He walked or rather waddled along towards the lake, and, arrived there, sniffed, drew his snuff-box from a pocket in the tail of his coat, and helped himself to a liberal pinch. Then he drew out a highly-coloured silk handkerchief, and, holding it in one hand, was in the act of patting it to his nose, when his eye lit upon the statue. Unable to believe that what he saw was real, he wiped his glasses and stared again. Then his face assumed a livid hue, his cheeks puffed out, and for the moment he looked as though he were on the point of exploding, or of having an apoplectic fit.
Tarred and feathered, as I live! he shouted, dancing from foot to foot in his rage, and shaking his stick threateningly. Some wretch has destroyed my statue, the most beautiful I ever saw. It is a piece of wickedness; yes, wickedness! and I will search Highgate ay, and even the whole of London to find the culprit.