Works of Ellen Wood, page 614
In some respects poor Jenniker was to be pitied. He had not the advantage, the safeguard, of a happy home. Left an orphan at an early age, he had been brought up by an uncle and aunt. His aunt was fond of him and treated him well; his uncle also treated him well during her life. But she died; and the time came when his uncle took another wife, and the second Mrs Jenniker set her face against the boy. There had been war to the knife ever since. And it is not improbable that Jenniker would have made short work of it and run away long ago, but for the earnest pleadings of his sweet cousin Mildred.
He went home, after boasting of his exploits, as to the tarts, at Allair’s. Mr Jenniker, a wealthy farmer, lived about a mile out of Whittermead, at the Manor Farm. Jenniker — Dick, he was generally called at home — was deep in the preparation of his lessons for the following morning, when the carriage drove up, containing his uncle, Mrs Jenniker, and Mildred. Some friends were with them; they had come to spend the evening; and Jenniker escaped anger for the time. Mildred came to him in the study, gave him an account of the day’s proceedings, told him the trick was assumed to be his, and that Mrs Jenniker vowed vengeance against him.
Jenniker only laughed. But when the guests had left, the storm fell upon his head, Mr and Mrs Jenniker heaping reproaches upon it. Jenniker retorted, and there was an angry scene. The boy — he was not much more than a boy, though he was so big and tall — spoke out as he had never spoken. Mildred burst into tears. These disputes made the sorrow of her life.
“Such a row!” said careless Jenniker to the boys of his desk the next morning at early school. “They quarrelled with me, and I quarrelled with them.”
“But about the tarts, Jenniker?” cried the boys, eagerly. “How did they find the trick out?”
“I’d give a guinea to have been there and seen the fun!” responded Jenniker. “When the time came for the repast to be spread, the company turned out their hampers, and my step-aunt turned out hers. The tarts looked all right, but the custard didn’t. ‘My dear,’ says uncle to her, ‘ your custard has turned.’
‘My custard turned!’ says she: ‘it’s not likely;’ for if there’s one thing she prides herself upon, it’s the making of her cheesecakes and custards. So my uncle tastes the custard, and finds it sour — all turned. ‘ It’s my belief there’s vinegar in it,’ cried he. So that put her up.
‘ What should bring vinegar in my custards? ‘ she asked. ‘Taste it,’ returned uncle. Well, she did taste, and the company all round tasted, and they found a flavour of onions in addition to the vinegar, and—”
“Stop a bit, Jenniker! How did you get at this?”
“Mildred told me. I wish you wouldn’t put a fellow out,” responded Jenniker. And he hastened to continue his story, adding to it, no doubt, sundry flourishings and embellishments of his own. “The custard was thrown away, and the dinner proceeded. When the meats were done with, the tarts came on. You know old Mother Graham? Well, she was served first, being the oldest and fattest. ‘What sort will you take, ma’am?’ asks Mrs Jenniker, who presided over her own tarts. ‘I’ll take a gooseberry, ma’am,’ replies Mother Graham. So Mrs Jenniker looks at her private marks, and sent her a gooseberry, and Mother Graham takes a good bite at it. ‘Goodness me, ma’am!’ she shrieks out, ‘you have forgotten the fruit!’— ‘Forgotten the fruit!’ repeats Mrs Jenniker, resenting the rudeness.
‘Don’t, mother!’ whispers her son, the parson, to her — for he thought it was nothing but rudeness—’ Mrs Jenniker always puts plenty of fruit in her tarts.’
‘But there’s none!’ cries out Mother Graham to him; and she pulls the tart apart before the company. This flustered Mrs Jenniker; she told Mildred angrily that it was her carelessness, for it was she who had filled the tarts: and she hands Mother Graham another. ‘ But what tarts are these?’ cries Mother Graham, taking a bite as before. ‘They have got no insides to them.’ Mrs Jenniker, in a fearful passion, cut a few open, and found they had no insides, but were hollow and empty. Mildred says I should have seen the consternation.’
The desk was in an ecstasy. It had not been treated to such a tale for many a day.
“They laid the blame upon my shoulders at once, my uncle and step-aunt,” went on Jenniker, “vowing vengeance upon me. They said I had done it on purpose to vex Mrs Jenniker, and they told the company so. They told the company I was vile and undutiful, the wickedest fellow of a nephew going; and — —”
“How did they know it was you who did it?” interrupted one at the desk.
“Oh, they guessed that. Of course, they would guess it. I knew they would when I was demolishing the tarts. Mildred would not do such a thing, and the servants wouldn’t; so there was nobody to pitch upon but me. If—”
“Silence!” interrupted the voice of Dr Robertson.
The room a large one. Dr Robertson’s desk was placed in the middle; the desk at which sat these boys was at the upper end, extending alongside the wall. At the other end of the room, opposite to their desk, was the entrance door. Jenniker waited until the echo of the master’s voice had died away, and then began again.
“You should have heard the uproar there was last night. They abused me, and I abused them. I told that step-aunt of mine a bit of truth, and she didn’t relish it: that the Manor Farm had been a pleasant place until she stepped into it, but it never would be again. That angered my uncle, and he promised to get me punished to-day by Dr Robertson. He had better!”
Vain defiance of Jenniker’s! Scarcely had it passed his lips, when the schoolroom door opened, and some one entered it. The boys, who had been so eagerly enjoying the tale, recoiled with surprise.
“Jenniker! look there!”
Jenniker did look. It was his uncle, Mr Jenniker. He did not appear angry, but there was an expression of cold firmness on his face that spoke volumes to Jenniker, who knew all its turns. That Mr Jenniker was in earnest respecting the threatened punishment, his coming thus early before breakfast proved. He went aside with Dr Robertson, and spoke with him for some minutes in a low tone.
What he said was never known. It was rumoured in the school afterwards that he put the affair in a very strong light indeed, and accused his nephew of theft. At any rate, whatever may have been the precise nature of the representation, he succeeded in his demand for extreme punishment. The doctor called Jenniker up, spoke a few severe words, summoned his man-servant, and ordered Jenniker to prepare for a flogging.
Jenniker’s face flushed. With all his escapades, he had never been flogged; indeed, it was a punishment scarcely ever resorted to by Dr Robertson. “What have I done to deserve a flogging?” asked he.
“Your own conscience can tell you that,” replied the doctor. “Mr Jenniker has satisfied me upon the point.”
“I only played them a lark, sir,” said Jenniker, looking from his uncle to the doctor. “I took the insides out of some tarts for their picnic yesterday. That does not merit a flogging.”
“Your conduct in many ways is incorrigibly bad, I find; it has been for some time,” returned the doctor, taking out his great birch. “I hope this punishment will have an effect upon you.”
“What have you been telling him, uncle?” angrily asked Jenniker.
“The truth,” curtly replied Mr Jenniker.
“Hoist him,” said Dr Robertson to his servant, giving the word of command in a sharp tone, while Mr Jenniker stood with an impassive face, never speaking, watching for the infliction of the punishment.
“I won’t be flogged! I won’t!” said Jenniker, loudly and rebelliously. “I have done nothing to deserve it.”
Resistance to power in a case like this, where the might lies all on one side, is of little use, and Jenniker found it so. He was seized upon, his back bared, and the birch soundly applied.
It was not a pleasant sight: he was too big to be flogged; and it looked more like punishing a soldier than a schoolboy. Jenniker was the tallest in the school, standing over five feet eight.
“I hope you’ll remember this,” cried Mr Jenniker to him, with his disagreeably calm impassiveness, when the punishment was over. And, taking leave of the doctor, he quitted the school.
Jenniker returned to his desk, sullen and resentful. There was a look on his face that boded no good, could the boys have read it.
“How did it taste, Jenniker?” came the intruding whisper.
There will always be found some boys ready to pay off these shafts. Jenniker heard it, and brought down his fist on the desk with a fierce word.
“The first of you that throws that flogging in my teeth, or even gives me so much as a look over it, shall be licked into powder. I promise it. Now! Go on, if you dare: you are none of you strong enough to fight with me.”
In a trial of strength, Jenniker was a match for almost any two boys in the school; and, as none had a wish to be converted into “powder,” they decided to let Jenniker alone. It was their wisest plan. Of a good-humoured, careless nature in general, Jenniker, when aroused — though it took a good deal to do it — would show out (as the school expressed it) as savage as any wild heathen.
So the desk was silent, and by and by the morning school broke up for breakfast. Jenniker was the first to depart. He strode across the long room with steps so fierce and swift, that the boys could only watch him in something like surprise. When they got out, he had disappeared.
The school collected in a knot, talking over the great event of the morning. A few who bore ill will to Jenniker declared that it “served him right,” but the popular opinion of the majority was that it was “too bad.” If Jenniker was insolent — and they all knew he could be that, when it pleased him — that step-aunt, of his, was cruel: always “on at him,”
“thwarting and aggravating him continually.” If stern old Jenniker —
The conclave was interrupted by Dr Robertson, apparently by accident. He halted, and told the boys they had better hasten home to breakfast, if they had a mind to be in time for ten o’clock school. And the boys had no resource but to disperse.
When they reassembled after breakfast, Jenniker was not one of them. His place remained empty. The boys did not wonder much: it was just what was to be expected from independent Jenniker. And even bets were laid one with another whether he would make his appearance after dinner.
He did not — as the event proved. The place at his desk was still vacant in the afternoon. Dr Robertson said nothing; but he was probably resolving upon a further punishment for the gentleman, for this daring attempt at insubordination.
Not a sight did the boys catch of him all day, in school or out. They were in the habit of assembling at Dr Robertson’s in the evening, to prepare their exercises and lessons for the ensuing day. It was not a compulsory attendance this, and no masters were present; one of the under ones occasionally would be there, but it was not very usual. It was thought Jenniker would probably come, and the school mustered in force; but they were disappointed. There was no Jenniker.
“He won’t show himself until to-morrow morning,” cried Gripper. “I said from the first he’d not come again to-day.”
“And right of him too,” said Gruff Jones, who had a hasty tongue. “I’d not, I know, if I had been flogged as Jenniker was.”
“Suppose we go up to his place, and see him?”
“Suppose you do nothing of the sort!” retorted Monitor Seymour, with decision. “Jenniker won’t thank any of you fellows for intruding on him. Let him have his smart out; it will be over with to-day.” And for once the boys thought well to follow advice. It might be as well to let Jenniker’s temper cool down.
CHAPTER VI.
RESULTS.
THE following day was Friday. The boys flew to early morning school with unwonted alacrity, getting there before seven. They cherished a nameless curiosity to see how Jenniker looked after his flogging.
Jenniker, however, chose to be late. Dr Robertson also was late, it being nearly eight when he entered the room. Casting his eyes around as he took his seat, he noted the absence of Jenniker.
“Where’s Jenniker?” he called out.
“He is not come, sir.”
“Not come!” repeated Dr Robertson. “Where is he then?” he added, after a pause.
There was no reply.
“Have any of you seen him?” asked the doctor.
The whole school spoke now. None of them had seen him. They had not seen him since he left the school the previous morning, after the flogging.
Dr Robertson ran his eyes over the boys, and called up Vane.
“Go to the Manor Farm,” he said. “Inquire why Jenniker is not at school, and say I demand his immediate attendance. Don’t linger on your errand, Vane,” sharply added the doctor, as a particular injunction to his messenger.
Harry Vane liked the expedition excessively. The school envied him, and resentfully thought Vane was always in luck. A scamper up to the Manor Farm was rather more agreeable, on a sunshiny June morning, than the bending over the school desks at their horrid books, as they termed them; and the “horrid books” did not get much of their attention during his absence.
Harry Vane was shown into the breakfast room at the Manor Farm. Pretty Mildred was alone in it. Her papa had gone riding round his farm, and Mrs Jenniker was not down. “I have come to ask about Jenniker,” said Harry. “Robertson is in such a temper.”
Mildred looked alarmed. “What about him?” she asked. “Is he ill?”
“Is who ill?” returned Harry Vane, not under standing.
“Richard.”
“Richard!” repeated Harry. “I don’t know what you mean, Mildred. He has not been near school since yesterday morning. I have come to order him there.”
Mildred’s face began to grow white. The words brought to her she knew not what of dread. “He has not been home since yesterday morning,” she whispered. “Where is he? What can have become of him?”
Harry Vane could only look at her in surprise. Where could Jenniker have gone?
“Was it a dreadful flogging?” asked Mildred, in a shuddering whisper.
“Pretty smart,” was the answer. “What did he say about it?”
“I have not seen him,” replied Mildred. “He has not come home. When papa came into breakfast yesterday morning, he told my aunt that he had been having Dick punished. It made me feel sick when he spoke of the flogging, and I burst into tears. Papa was angry: he said I was always ready to take Richard’s part; and when I wished to ask further about it, he would not answer.”
“But what an odd thing that he should not have come home!” ejaculated Harry Vane, unable to overcome his surprise.
“I wondered,” said Mildred, doing her best to choke down her fright and her tears. “Papa said, no doubt Dr Robertson had kept him for further punishment.”
“What a notion!” returned Harry Vane. “When a flogging’s over, the punishment’s over.”
Mildred was shivering. “When night came on, and still Richard did not come, what I thought was, that papa had requested Dr Robertson to keep him. Papa did not seem in the least uneasy, and Mrs Jenniker never mentioned Richard’s name throughout the day.”
“Where can he have got to, though?” reiterated Harry. “If I go back without him, Robertson will be in a rage.”
“He is not here,” was all poor Mildred could reply. “Oh, I wish they had not flogged him! What will be the result of it?”
It was hastily decided between them that a servant should accompany Harry Vane back, partly, as Mildred hoped, to gather some news of Richard; partly, as Harry suggested, to bear out the information that Jenniker was not at home. Mildred called the man, gave him his orders, and they departed.
Harry Vane looked flushed when he entered the school. Mr Jenniker’s servant awkwardly touched his hat, and then stood with it in his hand near the door.
“If you please, sir, Jenniker is not at home,” said Harry, addressing Dr Robertson. “He has not been home since yesterday morning.”
“Then where is he?” uttered the amazed doctor, after a pause, given to digest the news. “Did you see Mr Jenniker?”
“No, sir, he was out on the farm. I saw Miss Mildred. She said her papa, when he found Jenniker did not go home, thought you had kept him for punishment.”
“I should not be likely to keep him all night, had I detained him for the day. Mr Jenniker might have known that. What do you want, my man?” the doctor added, turning to the servant.
“Miss Mildred gave me orders to come here, sir, and ask what you thought — as to where Master Richard can have got to,” was the man’s reply. “She seems quite alarmed, sir.”
“I cannot tell at all,” said the doctor. “I can form no opinion upon the subject, tell Miss Jenniker, unless it is that he is hiding somewhere. It is very bad conduct. Mr Jenniker ought to be informed immediately.”
The man, giving his hair a touch to the doctor, and another general touch to the school, quitted the room.
Dr Robertson looked round on the throng of boys. They were partaking of the excitement, as to Jenniker. Not one had his eyes on his duties.
“Are you sure that none of you have seen Jenniker since yesterday morning?” he asked.
The boys replied that they were. Quite sure.
“Did he say anything when school was over? Or give any clue as to where he was going?”
A boy named Wilkins answered. He fancied the doctor looked at him particularly.
“Jenniker did not wait to say anything, sir. He went out of school first, the moment the doors were opened. I don’t think he spoke a word to any of us after the flogging, except to warn us that he would bear no comments upon it.” —
“It is very strange where—” Dr Robertson’s words were arrested by the reappearance of Mr Jenniker’s servant. The man came in, looking wild, his face excited, his hair standing on end.
“He has gone and enlisted for a soldier!” gasped he, altogether ignoring ceremony. —
