It was a wretched compact for George.
But the sum had not yet been fixed. George, standing
opposite his uncle, twisted one leg about the other;
twined his clammy hands; put the awful question:
“By how much will the allowance be increased
or cut down?”
“By two pounds a quarter.”
George plunged: “So if I fail in my first
exam. I shall get eleven pounds at the quarter?
if I pass, fifteen?”
Horror widened Mr. Marrapit’s eyes; shrilled
his voice: “What is the colossal sum you
anticipate?”
“I thought you said fifty-two pounds a year-a
pound a week.”
“A monstrous impression. Adjust it.
Four pounds a quarter is the sum. You will have
no needs. It errs upon the side of liberality—I
desire to be liberal.”
George twisted his legs into a yet firmer knot:
“But two failures would wipe it bang out.”
“Look you to that,” Mr. Marrapit told
him. “The matter is settled.”
But it was further pursued by George when outside
the door.
“Simply to spite that stingy brute,” vowed
he, “I’ll pass all my exams, with such
a rush that I’ll be hooking sixteen quid a quarter
out of him before he knows where he is. I swear
I will.”
It was a rash oath. When Youth selects as weapon
against Authority some implement that requires sweat
in the forging Authority may go unarmed. The
task of contriving such weapons is early abandoned.
In three months George’s hot resolve was cooled;
in six it was forgotten; at the end of three years,
after considerable fluctuation, his allowance stood
at minus two pounds for the ensuing quarter.
Mr. Marrapit, appealed to for advance, had raved about
his study with waving arms.
“The continued strain of renewing examination
fees consequent on your callous failures,” he
had said, “terrifies me. I am haunted by
the spectre of ruin. The Bank of England could
not stand it.”
Still George argued.
With a whirlwind of words Mr. Marrapit drove him from
the study: “Precious moments fly even as
you stand here. To your books, sir. In them
seek solace. By application to them refresh your
shattered pocket.”
Shamefully was the advice construed. George sought
and found solace in his books by selling his Kirke,
his Quain and his Stone to Mr. Schoole of the Charing
Cross Road; his microscope he temporarily lodged with
Mr. Maughan in the Strand; to the science of bridge
he applied himself with a skill that served to supply
his petty needs.
Notwithstanding, his career at St. Peter’s was
of average merit. George was now in the sixth
year of his studies; and by the third part of his
final examination, was alone delayed from the qualification
which would bring him freedom from his uncle’s
irksome rule.
His attempt at this last examination had been concluded
upon this July day that opens our history, and thus
we return to Mr. Marrapit, to George, and to the line
of smoke uprising from the tobacco.
