Assaulting a prefect

“Silver! Raby! Newcombe! You were out of House bounds with Lovell during the lock ups?”

“Yes, sir,” mumbled the three. There was no help for it.

Mr Dalton’s face was not pleasant. “Very well,” he said, “All four of you will have Extra School for four half-holidays, for leaving the House during preparation. You, Lovell, will be caned most severely for so outrageous an attack upon a Sixth-Form prefect. You will follow me to my study.”

In dismal silence, Artur Edward Lovell, followed Mr Dalton down the passage.

Three juniors waited quite anxiously for Lovell’s return. If ever a fellow deserved to be scragged, lynched and boiled in oil, Arthur Edward Lovell did: they were all agreed on that. Lovell had let Tommy Dodd pull his leg: he had led his friends on a wild-goose chase: he had got them sooted, and he had got himself caught: and all the fat was in the fire. They simply yearned to make it clear to Lovell what they thought of him: and their expressions were quite ferocious when, at last, they heard him coming up the passage.

But ferocity evaporated, when Lovell came in. One look at him, and all desire to scrag him, lynch him, or boil him in oil, disappeared on the spot. It was a sad and suffering Lovell that limped into the study.

He glanced at his friends with a lack-lustre eye, mumbled, moaned, and stood leaning on the table. He did not speak: he seemed beyond speech. He leaned on the table and mumbled, evidently having no desire to sit down. Only too clearly, Richard Dalton had felt it his duty to deal with him faithfully: and faithfully had he dealt with him.

“Had it bad, old chap?” asked Jimmy Silver, sympathetically.

“Mmmmmmmmmmmm!” mumbled Lovell. It was like the moo of a very sorrowful cow. Evidently, Lovell had had it bad.

When the other fellows went down after prep, Lovell stayed up in the study. He was in no mood for company. Fellows who passed the study door heard strange mumbling and mooing sounds from within. Arthur Edward Lovell was still looking much the worse for wear and tear when the Classical Fourth went to their dormitory.

Extracted from The Rivals of Rookwood, by Owen Conquest – a.k.a. Frank Richards – (Spring Books, 1951). The book can be downloaded here.

Picture credit: Unknown

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