Lord Ormont and his Aminta | Page 7

kept his leadership from a
challenge. Joseph Masner, formerly a rival, went about hinting and
shrugging; all to no purpose, you find boys born to be chiefs. On the
day of the snow-fight Matey won the toss, and chose J. Masner first
pick; and Masner, aged seventeen and some months, big as a navvy,
lumbered across to him and took his directions, proud to stand in the
front centre, at the head of the attack, and bear the brunt--just what he
was fit for, Matey gave no offence by choosing, half-way down the list,

his little French friend, whom he stationed beside himself, rather off his
battle-front, as at point at cricket, not quite so far removed. Two boys at
his heels piled ammunition. The sides met midway of a marshy ground,
where a couple of flat and shelving banks, formed for a broad new road,
good for ten abreast--counting a step of the slopes--ran transverse; and
the order of the game was to clear the bank and drive the enemy on to
the frozen ditch-water. Miss Vincent heard in the morning from the
sister of little Collett of the great engagement coming off; she was
moved by curiosity, and so the young ladies of her establishment
beheld the young gentlemen of Mr. Cuper's in furious division, and
Matey's sore aim and hard fling, equal to a slinger's, relieving J. Masner
of a foremost assailant with a spanker on the nob. They may have
fancied him clever for selecting a position rather comfortable, as things
went, until they had sight of him with his little French ally and two
others, ammunition boys to rear, descending one bank and scaling
another right into the flank of the enemy, when his old tower of a
Masner was being heavily pressed by numbers. Then came a fight hand
to hand, but the enemy stood in a clamp; not to split like a nut between
crackers, they gave way and rolled, backing in lumps from bank to
ditch.
The battle was over before the young ladies knew. They wondered to
see Matey shuffling on his coat and hopping along at easy bounds to
pay his respects to Miss Vincent, near whom was Browny; and this
time he and Browny talked together. He then introduced little Emile to
her. She spoke of Napoleon at Brienne, and complimented Matey. He
said he was cavalry, not artillery, that day. They talked to hear one
another's voices. By constantly appealing to Miss Vincent he made
their conversation together seem as under her conduct; and she took a
slide on some French phrases with little Emile. Her young ladies
looked shrinking and envious to see the fellows wet to the skin,
laughing, wrestling, linking arms; and some, who were clown-faced
with a wipe of scarlet, getting friends to rub their cheeks with snow, all
of them happy as larks in air, a big tea steaming for them at the school.
Those girls had a leap and a fail of the heart, glad to hug themselves in
their dry clothes, and not so warm as the dripping boys were, nor so
madly fond of their dress-circle seats to look on at a play they were not

allowed even to desire to share. They looked on at blows given and
taken in good temper, hardship sharpening jollity. The thought of the
difference between themselves and the boys must have been something
like the tight band--call it corset--over the chest, trying to lift and
stretch for draughts of air. But Browny's feeling naturally was, that all
this advantage for the boys came of Matey Weyburn's lead.
Miss Vincent with her young ladies walked off in couples, orderly
chicks, the usual Sunday march of their every day. The school was
coolish to them; one of the fellows hummed bars of some hymn tune,
rather faster than church. And next day there was a murmur of letters
passing between Matey and Browny regularly, little Collett for postman.
Anybody might have guessed it, but the report spread a feeling that
girls are not the entirely artificial beings or flat targets we suppose. The
school began to brood, like air deadening on oven-heat. Winter is
hen-mother to the idea of love in schools, if the idea has fairly entered.
Various girls of different colours were selected by boys for animated
correspondence, that never existed and was vigorously prosecuted, with
efforts to repress contempt of them in courtship for their affections.
They found their part of it by no means difficult when they imagined
the lines without the words, or, better still, the letter without the lines.
A holy satisfaction belonged to the sealed thing; the breaking of the
seal and inspection of the contents imposed perplexity on that
sentiment. They thought of certain possible sentences Matey and
Browny