Part 29

“There’s no harm in lending money, sir, is there?”

“I am not going to bandy words with you on your notions of morality. How much have you lent Corkran?”

“I--I don’t quite know,” said Beetle. It is difficult to improvise a going concern on the spur of the minute.

“You seemed certain enough just now.”

“I think it’s two and fourpence,” said McTurk, with a glance of cold scorn at Beetle. In the hopelessly involved finances of the study there was just that sum to which both McTurk and Beetle laid claim, as their share in the pledging of Stalky’s second-best Sunday trousers. But Stalky had maintained for two terms that the money was his “commission” for effecting the pawn; and had, of course, spent it on a study “brew.”

“Understand this, then. You are not to continue your operations as a money-lender. Two and fourpence, you said, Corkran?”

Stalky had said nothing, and continued so to do.

“Your influence for evil is quite strong enough without buying a hold over your companions.” He felt in his pockets, and (oh joy!) produced a florin and fourpence. “Bring me what you call Corkran’s note-of-hand, and be thankful that I do not carry the matter any further. The money is stopped from your pocket-money, Corkran. The receipt to my study, at once!”

Little they cared! Two and fourpence in a lump is worth six weekly sixpences any hungry day of the week.

“But what the dooce is a note-of-hand?” said Beetle. “I only read about it in a book.”

“Now you’ve jolly well got to make one,” said Stalky.

“Yes--but our ink don’t turn black till next day. S’pose he’ll spot that?”

“Not him. He’s too worried,” said McTurk. “Sign your name on a bit of impot-paper, Stalky, and write, ‘I O U two and fourpence.’ Aren’t you grateful to me for getting that out of Prout? Stalky’d never have paid... Why, you ass!”

Mechanically Beetle had handed over the money to Stalky as treasurer of the study. The custom of years is not lightly broken. In return for the document, Prout expounded to Beetle the enormity of money-lending, which, like everything except compulsory cricket, corrupted houses and destroyed good feeling among boys, made youth cold and calculating, and opened the door to all evil. Finally, did Beetle know of any other cases? If so, it was his duty as proof of repentance to let his house-master know. No names need be mentioned.

Beetle did not know--at least, he was not quite sure, sir. How could he give evidence against his friends? The house might, of course--here he feigned an anguished delicacy--be full of it. He was not in a position to say. He had not met with any open competition in his trade; but if Mr. Prout considered it was a matter that affected the honor of the house (Mr. Prout did consider it precisely that), perhaps the house-prefects would be better...

He spun it out till half-way through prep.

“And,” said the amateur Shylock, returning to the form-room and dropping at Stalky’s side, “if he don’t think the house is putrid with it, I’m several Dutch-men--that’s all... I’ve been to Mr. Prout’s study, sir.” This to the prep.-master. “He said I could sit where I liked, sir... Oh, he is just tricklin’ with emotion... Yes, sir, I’m only askin’ Corkran to let me have a dip in his ink.”

After prayers, on the road to the dormitories, Harrison and Craye, senior house-prefects, zealous in their office, waylaid them with great anger. “What have you been doing to Heffy this time, Beetle? He’s been jawing us all the evening.”

“What has His Serene Transparency been vexin’ you for?” said McTurk.

“About Beetle lendin’ money to Stalky,” began Harrison; “and then Beetle went and told him that there was any amount of money-lendin’ in the house.”

“No, you don’t,” said Beetle, sitting on a boot-basket. “That’s just what I didn’t tell him. I spoke the giddy truth. He asked me if there was much of it in the house; and I said I didn’t know.”

“He thinks you’re a set of filthy Shylocks,” said McTurk. “It’s just as well for you he don’t think you’re burglars. You know he never gets a notion out of his conscientious old head.”

“Well-meanin’ man. Did it all for the best.” Stalky curled gracefully round the stair-rail. “Head in a drain-pipe. Full confession in the left boot. Bad for the honor of the house--very.”

“Shut up,” said Harrison. “You chaps always behave as if you were jawin’ us when we come to jaw you.”

“You’re a lot too cheeky,” said Craye.

“I don’t quite see where the cheek comes in, except on your part, in interferin’ with a private matter between me an’ Beetle after it has been settled by Prout.” Stalky winked cheerfully at the others.

“That’s the worst of clever little swots,” said McTurk, addressing the gas. “They get made prefects before they have any tact, and then they annoy chaps who could really help ’em to look after the honor of the house.”

“We won’t trouble you to do that!” said Craye hotly.