Why should Dicky's reward be laughter, and mine a bloody nose and a widened, deepened circle of dislike? I am no heavier than Dicky; if anything a pound or two lighter. Is it Billy's friendliness? I too would fling my arms about their necks; but from me they angrily wrench themselves free. Is indifference the best plan? I walk apart with step I try so hard to render careless; but none follows, no little friendly arm is slipped through mine. Should one seek to win one's way by kind offices? Ah, if one could! How I would fag for them. I could do their sums for them--I am good at sums--write their impositions for them, gladly take upon myself their punishments, would they but return my service with a little love and--more important still--a little admiration."
But all I could find to say was, sulkily: "They do like me, some of them." I dared not, aloud, acknowledge the truth.
"Don't tell lies," he answered; "you know they don't--none of them."
And I hung my head.
"I'll tell you what I'll do," he continued in his lordly way; "I'll give you a chance. We're starting hare and hounds next Saturday; you can be a hare. You needn't tell anybody. Just turn up on Saturday and I'll see to it. Mind, you'll have to run like the devil."
He walked away without waiting for my answer, leaving me to meet Joy running towards me with outstretched hands. The great moment comes to all of us; to the politician, when the Party whip slips from confabulation with the Front Bench to congratulate him, smiling, on his really admirable little speech; to the youthful dramatist, reading in his bed-sitting-room the managerial note asking him to call that morning at eleven; to the subaltern, beckoned to the stirrup of his chief--the moment when the sun breaks through the morning mists, and the world lies stretched before us, our way clear.
Obeying orders, I gave no hint in school of the great fortune that had come to me; but hurrying home, I exploded in the passage before the front door could be closed behind me.
"I am to be a hare because I run so fast. Anybody can be a hound, but there's only two hares, and they all want me. And can I have a jersey? We begin next Saturday. He saw me run. I ran twice round the playground. He said I was splendid! Of course, it's a great honour to be a hare. We start from Hampstead Heath. And may I have a pair of shoes?"
The jersey and the shoes my mother and I purchased that very day, for the fear was upon me that unless we hastened, the last blue and white striped jersey in London might be sold, and the market be empty of running shoes. That evening, before getting into bed, I dressed myself in full costume to admire myself before the glass; and from then till the end of the week, to the terror of my mother, I practised leaping over chairs, and my method of descending stairs was perilous and roundabout. But, as I explained to them, the credit of the Lower Fourth was at stake, and banisters and legs equally of small account as compared with fame and honour; and my father, nodding his head, supported me with manly argument; but my mother added to her prayers another line.
Saturday came. The members of the hunt were mostly boys who lived in the neighbourhood; so the arrangement was that at half-past two we should meet at the turnpike gate outside the Spaniards. I brought my lunch with me and ate it in Regent's Park, and then took the 'bus to the Heath. One by one the others came up. Beyond mere glances, none of them took any notice of me. I was wearing my ordinary clothes over my jersey. I knew they thought I had come merely to see them start, and I hugged to myself the dream of the surprise that was in store for them, and of which I should be the hero. He came, one of the last, our leader and chief, and I sidled up behind him and waited, while he busied himself organising and constructing.
"But we've only got one hare," cried one of them. "We ought to have two, you know, in case one gets blown."
"We've got two," answered the Duke. "Think I don't know what I'm about? Young Kelver's going to be the other one."
Silence fell upon the meet.
"Oh, I say, we don't want him," at last broke in a voice. "He's a muff."
"He can run," explained the Duke.
"Let him run home," came another voice, which was greeted with laughter.
"You'll run home in a minute yourself," threatened the Duke, "if I have any of your cheek. Who's captain here--you or me? Now, young 'un, are you ready?"
I had commenced unbuttoning my jacket, but my hands fell to my side.
"I don't want to come," I answered, "if they don't want me."
"He'll get his feet wet," suggested the boy who had spoken first.
"Don't spoil him, he's his mother's pet."
"Are you coming or are you not?" shouted the Duke, seeing me still motionless. But the tears were coming into my eyes and would not go back. I turned my face away without speaking.
"All right, stop then," cried the Duke, who, like all authoritative people, was impatient above all things of hesitation. "Here, Keefe, you take the bag and be off. It'll be dark before we start."
My substitute snatched eagerly at the chance, and away went the hares, while I, still keeping my face hid, moved slowly off.
"Cry-baby!" shouted a sharp-eyed youngster.
"Let him alone," growled the Duke; and I went on to where the cedars grew.
I heard them start off a few minutes later with a whoop. How could I go home, confess my disappointment, my shame? My father would be expecting me with many questions, my mother waiting for me with hot water and blankets. What explanation could I give that would not betray my miserable secret?
It was a chill, dismal afternoon, the Heath deserted, a thin rain commencing. I slipped off my shirt and jacket, and rolling them under my arm, trotted off alone, hare and hounds combined in one small carcass, to chase myself sadly by myself.
