see her at breakfast. She retired to her room when she had made a frugal meal, and was interested to find a large toad, with eyes which reminded her somewhat of those of Lecky Harries, squatting amiably on the middle of the counterpane.
She suspected the doctor's young son of a practical joke, and, removing the toad to the front garden, she decided to challenge the child at midday.
The little boy denied all knowledge of the toad, however, and asked to see it, but although he and Mrs Bradley searched the garden, no trace of it was to be found.
Mrs Bradley returned to Mrs Harries and gave her five pounds, all in silver. The blind woman – if blind she was – seemed pleased with the present. She returned a florin 'for luck,' and wished Mrs Bradley well.
'Come again in the dark of the moon,' she said. 'Who knows? The luck may have changed.'
3. ' Mr Perrin and Mr Traill'
*
A Lawyer is an honest Employment, so is mine. Like me too he acts in a double Capacity, both against Rogues and for 'em.
IBID. ( Act 1, Scene 1 )
S PEY S CHOOL was well endowed; so well endowed, in fact, that Education Acts passed it by and government grants were as pointedly ignored by its trustees as though they had never existed.
It was not an expensive school, as schools go, and had not increased its fees since 1909, when it had become so much sought after that the governing body had decided upon a slightly discouraging scale of fees although they did not need the extra money.
Scholarships to Spey were not numerous, but there were more than a dozen bursaries offered every year to clever boys of the school who wanted to go to Oxford or Cambridge in what a sadly undemocratic deed of gift referred to as a 'gentlemanly manner'.
The School was very well staffed and the masters were very well paid. Once appointed, they were expected to work for their living, and it was understood (and an article of their signed agreement) that the Headmaster would present a written report on each of them to the governors on every twenty-fifth day of November.
There were so many masters that cliques and parties formed as naturally among them as among a large band of courtiers.
The younger masters at Spey were divided into two main sections. There were, of course, cross-sections, permutations and combinations, pairs, special interests and occasional changes of allegiance, but, speaking generally and in abroad way, there were two main sections, one under the leadership of Mr Conway, and the other under the leadership of Mr Semple.
Mr Semple was an Old Boy. He was modest, firm, and popular, and had destined himself to take a wife and, later, a House. He was a good fellow, a bit of a prig, and more than a bit of an athlete. He had been a double Blue, for he was a footballer and a runner.
He disliked Mr Conway very much, but rarely upset himself about this because Mr Conway was, in point of fact, afraid of him, and so left him alone. He was not subjected to such witticisms and rudeness as made some of the older masters and one or two of the young ones feel like murder, but he was a decent fellow in his rather prim way, and it gave him a feeling of discomfort when Mr Conway's malicious shafts were directed towards others.
When, therefore, Mr Kay, of the doubtful antecedents and unprepossessing appearance, appealed to him to 'come out for a run one morning before breakfast' he was disposed to accede to the request. Mr Conway had been particularly offensive that day, not to Kay, in whom Mr Semple was not interested, but to Mr Loveday, who, although an old dodderer (in Mr Semple's opinion), happened also to be Mr Semple's old Housemaster.
Mr Semple, therefore, accepted the invitation in no uncertain voice, and exchanged an enquiring and challenging stare for an exclamation of mirth from Mr Conway. Mr Conway then went out of the Common Room, and Mr Semple was moved to enquire, in a very loud voice which he knew Mr Conway could hear:
'You're not the Kay who did one