<h2><SPAN name="An_Error_of_Judgment" id="An_Error_of_Judgment"></SPAN>14. <i>An Error of Judgment</i></h2>
<blockquote><p>"The Survivorship of a worthy Man in his Son is a Pleasure scarce
inferior to the Hopes of the Continuance of his own Life." <i>Spectator.</i></p>
</blockquote>
<div class="block">
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<div>"Du bist ein Knabe—sei es immerhin</div>
<div>Und fahre fort, den Fröhlichen zu spielen."</div>
<div class="i13"><span class="smcap">Schiller</span>, <i>Don Carlos</i>.</div>
</div></div>
</div>
<p>Paul was the first to break a very awkward silence. "You young
scoundrel!" he said, with suppressed rage. "What the devil do you mean
by laughing like that? It's no laughing matter, let me tell you, sir,
for one of us!"</p>
<p>"I can't help laughing," said Dick; "you do look so queer!"</p>
<p>"Queer! I may well look queer. I tell you that I have never, never in my
whole life, spent such a perfectly infernal week as this last!"</p>
<p><span class='pagenum'><SPAN name="Page_196" id="Page_196"></SPAN></span></p>
<p>"Ah!" observed Dick, "I thought you wouldn't find it <i>all</i> jam! And yet
you seemed to be enjoying yourself, too," he said with a grin, "from
that letter you wrote."</p>
<p>"What made you come here? Couldn't you be content with your miserable
victory, without coming down to crow and jeer at me?"</p>
<p>"It isn't that," said Dick. "I—I thought I should like to see the
fellows, and find out how you were getting on, you know." These,
however, were not his only and his principal motives. He had come down
to get a sight of Dulcie.</p>
<p>"Well, sir," said Mr. Bultitude, with ponderous sarcasm, "you'll be
delighted to hear that I'm getting on uncommonly well—oh, uncommonly!
Your high-spirited young friends batter me to sleep with slippers on
most nights, and, as a general thing, kick me about during the day like
a confounded football! And last night, sir, I was going to be expelled;
and this morning I'm forgiven, and sentenced to be soundly flogged
before the whole school! It was just about to take place as you came in;
and I've every reason to believe it is merely postponed!"</p>
<p>"I say, though," said Dick, "you must have been going it rather, you
know. I've never been expelled. Has Chawner been sneaking again? What
have you been up to?"</p>
<p>"Nothing. I solemnly swear—nothing! They're finding out things you've
done, and thrashing <i>me</i>."</p>
<p>"Well," said Dick soothingly, "you'll work them all off during the term,
I daresay. There aren't many really bad ones. I suppose he's seen my
name cut on his writing-table?"</p>
<p>"No; not that I'm aware of," said Paul.</p>
<p>"Oh, he'd let you hear of it if he had!" said Dick. "It's good for a
swishing, that is. But, after all, what's a swishing? I never cared for
a swishing."</p>
<p>"But I do care, sir. I care very much, and, I tell you, I won't stand
it. I can't! Dick," he said abruptly<span class='pagenum'><SPAN name="Page_197" id="Page_197"></SPAN></span> as a sudden hope seized him. "You,
you haven't come down here to say you're tired of your folly, have you?
Do you want to give it up?"</p>
<p>"Rather not," said Dick. "Why should I? No school, no lessons, nothing
to do but amuse myself, eat and drink what I like, and lots of money.
It's not likely, you know."</p>
<p>"Have you ever thought that you're bringing yourself within reach of the
law, sir?" said Paul, trying to frighten him. "Perhaps you don't know
that there's an offence known as 'false personation with intent to
defraud,' and that it's a felony. That's what you're doing at this
moment, sir!"</p>
<p>"Not any more than you are!" retorted Dick. "I never began it. I had as
much right to wish to be you as you had to wish to be me. You're just
what you said you wanted to be, so you can't complain."</p>
<p>"It's useless to argue with you, I see," said Paul. "And you've no
feelings. But I'll warn you of one thing. Whether that is my body or not
you've fraudulently taken possession of, I don't know; if it is not, it
is very like mine, and I tell you this about it. The sort of life you're
leading it, sir, will very soon make an end of you, if you don't take
care. Do you think that a constitution at my age can stand sweet wines
and pastry, and late hours? Why, you'll be laid up with gout in another
day or two. Don't tell me, sir. I know you're suffering from indigestion
at this very minute. I can see your liver (it may be <i>my</i> liver for
anything I know) is out of order. I can see it in your eyes."</p>
<p>Dick was a little alarmed at this, but he soon said: "Well, and if I am
seedy, I can get Barbara to take the stone and wish me all right again,
can't I? That's easy enough, I suppose."</p>
<p>"Oh, easy enough!" said Paul, with a suppressed groan. "But, Dick, you
don't go up to Mincing Lane in that suit and that hat? Don't tell me you
do that!"</p>
<p><span class='pagenum'><SPAN name="Page_198" id="Page_198"></SPAN></span></p>
<p>"When I do go up, I wear them," said Dick composedly. "Why not? It's a
roomy suit, and I hate a great topper on my head; I've had enough of
that here on Sundays. But it's slow up at your office. The chaps there
aren't half up to any larks. I made a first-rate booby-trap, though, one
day for an old yellow buffer who came in to see you. He <i>was</i> in a bait
when he found the waste-paper basket on his head!"</p>
<p>"What was his name?" said Paul, with forced calm.</p>
<p>"Something like 'Shells.' He said he was a very old friend of mine, and
I told him he lied."</p>
<p>"Shellack—my Canton correspondent—a man I was anxious to be of use
to when he came over!" moaned Mr. Bultitude. "Miserable young cub, you
don't know what mischief you've done!"</p>
<p>"Well, it won't matter much to you now," said Dick; "you're out of it
all."</p>
<p>"Do you—do you mean to keep me out of it for ever, then?" asked Paul.</p>
<p>"As long as ever I can!" returned Dick frankly. "It will be rather
interesting to see what sort of a fellow you'll grow into—if you ever
do grow. Perhaps you will always be like that, you know. This magic is a
rum thing to meddle with."</p>
<p>This suggestion almost maddened Paul. He made one stride forward, and
faced his son with blazing eyes. "Do you think I will put up with it?"
he said, between his teeth. "Do you suppose I shall stand calmly by and
see you degrading and ruining me? I may never be my old self again, but
I don't mean to play into your hands for all that. You can't always keep
me here, and wherever I go I'll tell my tale. I know you, you clumsy
rogue, you haven't the sense to play your part with common intelligence
now. You would betray yourself directly I challenged you to deny my
story.... You know you would.... You couldn't face me for five minutes.
By Gad! I'll do it now. I'll expose you before the Doctor—before the
whole school. You shall<span class='pagenum'><SPAN name="Page_199" id="Page_199"></SPAN></span> see if you can dispose of me quite so easily as
you imagine!"</p>
<p>Dick had started back at first in unmistakable alarm at this unexpected
defiance, probably feeling his self-possession unequal to such a test;
but, when Paul had finished, he said doggedly: "Well, you can do it if
you choose, I suppose. I can't stop you. But I don't see what good it
would do."</p>
<p>"It would show people you were an impudent impostor, sir," said Paul
sternly, going to the door as if to call the Doctor, though he shrank
secretly from so extreme and dangerous a measure.</p>
<p>There was a hesitation in his manner, in spite of the firmness of his
words, which Dick was not likely to miss. "Stop!" he said. "Before you
call them in, just listen to me for a minute. Do you see this?" And,
opening his coat, he pulled out from his waistcoat pocket one end of his
watch-chain. Hanging to it, attached by a cheap gilt fastening of some
sort, was a small grey tablet. Paul knew it at once—it was the Garudâ
Stone. "You know it, I see," said Dick, as Paul was about to move
towards him—with what object he scarcely knew himself. "Don't trouble
to come any closer. Well, I give you fair warning. You can make things
very nasty for me if you like. I can't help that—but, if you do—if you
try to score off me in any way, now or at any time—if you don't keep it
up when the Doctor comes in—I tell you what I shall do. I shall go
straight home and find young Roly. I shall give him this stone, and just
tell him to say some wish after me. I don't believe there are many
things it can't do, and all I can say is—if you find yourself and all
this jolly old school (except Dulcie) taken off somewhere and stuck down
all at once thousands of miles away on a desolate island, or see
yourself turned into a Red Indian, or, or a cabhorse, you'll have
yourself to thank for it—that's all. Now you can have them all up and
fire away."</p>
<p>"No," said Paul, in a broken voice, for, wild as the<span class='pagenum'><SPAN name="Page_200" id="Page_200"></SPAN></span> threat was, he
could not afford to despise it after his experiences of the stone's
power, "I—I was joking, Dick; at least I didn't mean it. I know of
course I'm helpless. It's a sad thing for a father to say, but you've
got the best of it.... I give in ... I won't interfere with you. There's
only one thing I ask. You won't try any more experiments with that
miserable stone.... You'll promise me that, at least?"</p>
<p>"Yes," said Dick: "it's all right. I'll play fair. As long as you behave
yourself and back me up I won't touch it. I only want to stay as I am. I
don't want to hurt you."</p>
<p>"You won't lose it?" said Paul anxiously. "Couldn't you lock it up? that
fastening doesn't look very safe."</p>
<p>"It will do well enough," said Dick. "I got it done at the watchmaker's
round the corner, for sixpence. But I'll have a stronger ring put in
somewhere, if I think of it."</p>
<p>There was a pause, in which the conversation seemed about to flag
hopelessly, but at last Dick said, almost as if he felt some compunction
for his present unfilial attitude: "Now, you know, it's much better to
take things quietly. It can't be altered now, can it? And it's not such
bad fun being a boy after all—for some things. You'll get into it
by-and-by, you see if you don't, and be as jolly as a sandboy. We shall
get along all right together, too. I shan't be hard on you. It isn't my
fault that you happen to be at this particular school—you chose it! And
after this term you can go to any other school you like—Eton or Rugby,
or anywhere. I don't mind the expense. Of, if you'd rather, you can have
a private tutor. And I'll buy you a pony, and you can ride in the Row.
You shall have a much better time of it than I ever had, as long as you
let me go on my own way."</p>
<p>But these dazzling bribes had no influence upon Mr. Bultitude; nothing
short of complete restitution would ever satisfy him, and he was too
proud and too angry at<span class='pagenum'><SPAN name="Page_201" id="Page_201"></SPAN></span> his crushing defeat to even pretend to be in the
least pacified.</p>
<p>"I don't want your pony," he said bitterly; "I might as well have a
white elephant, and I don't suppose I should enjoy myself much more at a
public school than I do here. Let's have no humbug, sir. You're up and
I'm down—there's no more to be said—I shall tell the Doctor nothing,
but I warn you, if ever the time comes——"</p>
<p>"Oh, of course," said Dick, feeling tolerably secure, now he had
disposed of the main difficulty. "If you can turn me out, I suppose you
will—that's only fair. I shall take care not to give you the chance.
And, oh, I say, do you want any tin? How much have you got left?"</p>
<p>Paul turned away his head, lest Dick should see the sudden exultation he
knew it must betray, as he said, with an effort to appear unconcerned,
"I came away with exactly five shillings, and I haven't a penny now!"</p>
<p>"I say," said Dick, "you are a fellow; you must have been going it. How
did you get rid of it all in a week?"</p>
<p>"It went, as far as I can understand," said Mr. Bultitude, "in rabbits
and mice. Some boys claimed it as money they paid you to get them, I
believe."</p>
<p>"All your own fault," said Dick, "you would have them drowned. But you'd
better have some tin to get along with. How much do you want? Will
half-a-crown do?"</p>
<p>"Half-a-crown is not much, Dick," said his father, almost humbly.</p>
<p>"It's—ahem—a handsome allowance for a young fellow like you," said
Dick, rather unkindly; "but I haven't any half-crowns left. I must give
you this, I suppose."</p>
<p>And he held out a sovereign, never dreaming what it signified to Paul,
who clutched it with feelings too great for words, though gratitude was
not a part of them, for was it not his own money?</p>
<p>"And now look out," said Dick, "I hear Grim. Remember what I told you;
keep it up."</p>
<p><span class='pagenum'><SPAN name="Page_202" id="Page_202"></SPAN></span></p>
<p>Dr. Grimstone came in with the air of a man who has a painful duty to
perform; he started slightly as his eye noted the change in his
visitor's dress and appearance. "I hope," he began gravely, "that your
son has spared me the pain of going into the details of his
misbehaviour; I wish I could give you a better report of him."</p>
<p>Dick was plainly, in spite of his altered circumstances, by no means at
ease in the schoolmaster's presence; he stood, shifting from foot to
foot on the hearth-rug, turning extremely red and obstinately declining
to raise his eyes from the ground.</p>
<p>"Oh, ah," he stammered at last, "you were just going to swish him,
weren't you, when I turned up, sir?"</p>
<p>"I found myself forced," said the Doctor, slightly shocked at this
coarse way of putting things, "forced to contemplate administering to
him (for his ultimate benefit) a sharp corrective in the presence of his
schoolfellows. I distress you, I see, but the truth must be told. He has
no doubt confessed his fault to you?"</p>
<p>"No," said Dick, "he hasn't though. What's he been up to now?"</p>
<p>"I had hoped he would have been more open, more straightforward, when
confronted with the father who has proved himself so often indulgent and
anxious for his improvement; it would have been a more favourable
symptom, I think. Well, I must tell you myself. I know too well what a
shock it will be to your scrupulously sensitive moral code, my dear Mr.
Bultitude" (Dick showed a painful inclination to giggle here); "but I
have to break to you the melancholy truth that I detected this unhappy
boy in the act of conducting a secret and amorous correspondence with a
young lady in a sacred edifice!"</p>
<p>Dick whistled sharply: "Oh, I say!" he cried, "that's bad" (and he
wagged his head reprovingly at his disgusted father, who longed to
denounce his hypocrisy, but dared not); "that's bad ... he shouldn't do
that<span class='pagenum'><SPAN name="Page_203" id="Page_203"></SPAN></span> sort of thing you know, should he? At his age too ... the young
dog!"</p>
<p>"This horror is what I should have expected from you," said the Doctor
(though he was in truth more than scandalised by the composure with
which his announcement was received). "Such boldness is indeed
characteristic of the dog, an animal which, as you are aware, was with
the ancients a synonym for shamelessness. No boy, however abandoned,
should hear such words of unequivocal condemnation from a father's lips
without a pang of shame!"</p>
<p>Paul was only just able to control his rage by a great effort.</p>
<p>"You're right there, sir," said Dick; "he ought to be well ragged for it
... he'll break my heart, if he goes on like this, the young beggar. But
we mustn't be too hard on him, eh? After all, it's nature, you know,
isn't it?"</p>
<p>"I beg your pardon?" said Dr. Grimstone very stiffly.</p>
<p>"I mean," explained Dick, with a perilous approach to digging the other
in the ribs, "we did much the same sort of thing in our time, eh? I'm
sure I did—lots of times!"</p>
<p>"I can't reproach myself on that head, Mr. Bultitude; and permit me to
say, that such a tone of treating the affair is apt to destroy the
effect, the excellent moral effect, of your most impressively conveyed
indignation just now. I merely give you a hint, you understand!"</p>
<p>"Oh, ah," said Dick, feeling that he had made a mistake, "yes, I didn't
mean that. But I say, you haven't given him a—a whopping yet, have
you?"</p>
<p>"I had just stepped out to procure a cane for that purpose," said the
Doctor, "when your name was announced."</p>
<p>"Well, look here, you won't want to start again when I'm gone, will
you?"</p>
<p>"An ancient philosopher, my dear sir, was accustomed to postpone the
correction of his slaves until the first<span class='pagenum'><SPAN name="Page_204" id="Page_204"></SPAN></span> glow of his indignation had
passed away. He found that he could——"</p>
<p>"Lay it on with more science," suggested Dick, while Paul writhed where
he stood. "Perhaps so, but you might forgive him now, don't you think?
he won't do it again. If he goes writing any more love-letters, tell me,
and I'll come and talk to him; but he's had a lesson, you know. Let him
off this time."</p>
<p>"I have no right to resist such an entreaty," said the Doctor, "though I
may be inclined myself to think that a few strokes would render the
lesson more permanent. I must ask you to reconsider your plea for his
pardon."</p>
<p>Paul heard this with indescribable anxiety; he had begun to feel
tolerably sure that his evil hour was postponed <i>sine die</i>, but might
not Dick be cruel and selfish enough to remain neutral, or even side
with the enemy, in support of his assumed character?</p>
<p>Luckily he was not. "I'd rather let him off," he said awkwardly; "I
don't approve of caning fellows myself. It never did me any good, I
know, and I got enough of it to tell."</p>
<p>"Well, well, I yield. Richard, your father has interceded for you; and I
cannot disregard his wishes, though I have my own view in the matter.
You will hear no more of this disgraceful conduct, sir, unless you do
something to recall it to my memory. Thank your father for his kindness,
which you so little deserved, and take your leave of him."</p>
<p>"Oh, there, it's all right!" said Dick; "he'll behave himself after
this, I know. And oh! I say, sir," he added hastily, "is—is Dulcie
anywhere about?"</p>
<p>"My daughter?" asked the Doctor. "Would you like to see her?"</p>
<p>"I shouldn't mind," said Dick, blushing furiously.</p>
<p>"I'm sorry to say she has gone out for a walk with her mother," said the
Doctor. "I'm afraid she cannot be back for some time. It's unfortunate."</p>
<p><span class='pagenum'><SPAN name="Page_205" id="Page_205"></SPAN></span></p>
<p>Dick's face fell. "It doesn't matter," he muttered awkwardly. "She's
all right, I hope?"</p>
<p>"She is very seldom ailing, I'm happy to say; just now she is
particularly well, thank you."</p>
<p>"Oh, is she?" said Dick gloomily, probably disappointed to find that he
was so little missed, and not suspecting that his father had been
accepted as a substitute.</p>
<p>"Well, do you mind—could I see the fellows again for a minute or two—I
mean I should rather like to inspect the school, you know."</p>
<p>"See my boys? Certainly, my dear sir, by all means; this way," and he
took Dick out to the schoolroom—Paul following out of curiosity.
"You'll find us at our studies, you see," said the Doctor, as he opened
the first baize door. There was a suspicious hubbub and hum of voices
from within; but as they entered every boy was bent over his books with
the rapt absorption of the devoted student—an absorption that was the
direct effect of the sound the door-handle made in turning.</p>
<p>"Our workshop," said the Doctor airily, looking round. "My first form,
Mr. Bultitude. Some good workers here, and some idle ones."</p>
<p>Dick stood in the doorway, looking (if the truth must be told)
uncommonly foolish. He had wanted, in coming there, to enjoy the
contrast between the past and present—which accounts for a good many
visits of "old boys" to the scene of their education. But, confronted
with his former schoolfellows, he was seized at first with an utterly
unreasonable fear of detection.</p>
<p>The class behaved as classes usually do on such occasions. The good boys
smirked and the bad ones stared—the general expression being one of
uneasy curiosity. Dick said never a word, feeling strangely bashful and
nervous.</p>
<p>"This is Tipping, my head boy," touching that young gentleman on the
shoulder, and making him several degrees more uncomfortable. "I expect
solid results from Tipping some day."</p>
<p><span class='pagenum'><SPAN name="Page_206" id="Page_206"></SPAN></span></p>
<p>"He looks as if his head was pretty solid," said Dick, who had once cut
his knuckles against it.</p>
<p>"My second boy, Biddlecomb. If he applies himself, he too will do me
credit in the world."</p>
<p>"How do, Biddlecomb?" said Dick. "I owe you ninepence—I mean—oh hang
it, here's a shilling for you! Hallo, Chawner!" he went on, gradually
overcoming his first nervousness, "how are you getting on, eh? Doing
much in the sneaking way lately?"</p>
<p>"You know him!" exclaimed the Doctor with naive surprise.</p>
<p>"No, no; I don't know him. I've heard of him, you know—heard of him!"
Chawner looked down his nose with a feeble attempt at a gratified
simper, while his neighbours giggled with furtive relish.</p>
<p>"Well," said Dick at last, after a long look at all the old familiar
objects, "I must be off, you know. Got some important business at home
this evening to look after. The fellows look very jolly and contented,
and all that sort of thing. Enough to make one want to be a boy again
almost, eh? Good-bye, you chaps—ahem, young gentlemen, I wish you good
morning!"</p>
<p>And he went out, leaving behind him the impression that "young
Bultitude's governor wasn't half such a bad old buffer."</p>
<p>He paused at the open front door, to which Paul and the Doctor had
accompanied him. "Good-bye," he said; "I wish I'd seen Dulcie. I should
like to see your daughter, sir; but it can't be helped. Good-bye; and
you," he added in a lower tone to his father, who was standing by,
inexpressibly pained and disgusted by his utter want of dignity, "you
mind what I told you. Don't try any games with me!"</p>
<p>And, as he skipped jauntily down the steps to the gateway, the Doctor
followed his unwieldy, oddly-dressed form with his eyes, and, inclining
his head gravely to Dick's sweeping wave of the hand, asked with a
compassionate tone in his voice. "You don't<span class='pagenum'><SPAN name="Page_207" id="Page_207"></SPAN></span> happen to know, Richard, my
boy, if your father has had any business troubles lately—anything to
disturb him?"</p>
<p>And Mr. Bultitude's feelings prevented him from making any intelligible
reply.</p>
<hr />
<div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />