Prattleton

Yes, the false gossip against this dear angel is finally thrown on its ear when truth and love do prevail. There was a benevolent busybody in my head, and she began telling me this story of Prattleton. She reminded me a little of Mrs.

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Prattleton desperately wants to be British. Why did I write a story about gossips? At least I thought so. You are commenting using your WordPress. You are commenting using your Twitter account. You are commenting using your Facebook account.

Notify me of new comments via email. Create a free website or blog at WordPress. Home About Novels Paintings Sketches. The consequence was an enormous rent, and it had just taken the nine other choristers and three lay-clerks five minutes and seventeen pins, fished out of different pockets, to do it up in any way decent. Young Wilberforce, during the process, rehearsing a tale over in his mind, for home, about that horrid rusty nail that would stick out of the vestry door.

The choristers stood facing each other, five on a side, and the dean and canons would pass between them when they came in. They stood at an equidistance, one from the other, and it was high treason against the college rules for them to move an inch from their places. Arkell headed one line, Aultane the other, the two being face to face. Suddenly a college boy, who was late, came flying from the cloisters and dashed into the choir, to crave the keys of the schoolroom from the senior boy, that he might procure his surplice.

Lewis came out again, full pelt, swinging the keys in his hand, rather vain of showing to the choristers that he had succeeded in obtaining them, just as two little old gentlemen were advancing from the front entrance. Aultane looked round in a fluster. But not a soul could he see, save a straggler or two making their way to the side aisles; and two insignificant little old men, arm-inarm, close at hand, in rusty black clothes and brown wigs. Nobody to affect him. The word was not a blessing, but you are at liberty to substitute one. The little old men, to whom each chorister had bowed profoundly as they passed him, turned, and bent their severe yellow faces upon Aultane.

Lewis junior crept away petrified; and Aultane, with the red flush of shame on his brow, slunk back to his place. They were the learned judges. But no wonder Aultane had failed to recognise them, for they bore no more resemblance to the fierce and fiery visions of the morning, than do two old-fashioned black crows to stately peacocks. Aultane hung his head in an agony: Wilberforce was in another agony, lest those four keen eyes should wander to his damaged surplice and the pins. The judges passed on. Arkell would not look towards Aultane: But one of the sextons, happening to come out of the choir, arrested Aultane, and whirled him back.

In another moment they were surrounded.

Beauclerc passed on, but Georgina stopped. Even as she went into college, she would sometimes stop and chatter to the boys.

I only wonder he has not reported you before. You should have me for your senior.

Prattleton's Monday Out

If the dean offered him a thousand half-crowns for his medal, he could not produce it. He could not answer: His face flushed a vivid red, and then grew white as his surplice. She cast an annihilating frown at Lewis, and, raising her finger haughtily motioned Aultane to his place. The next to come in was Mr. John went on, and Lewis skulked to his seat, in his wake.

The choristers were on raised seats in front of the lay-clerks, five on one side the choir, five opposite on the other; Arkell, as senior, heading the five on the decani side. The dean and canons came in, and the service began. While the afternoon psalms were being sung, Mr. Wilberforce pricked the roll, a parchment containing the names of the members of the cathedral, from the dean downwards, marking those who were present.

Aultane left his place and took the roll to the dean, continuing his way to the organ-loft, to inquire what anthem had been put up. He spoke sullenly, and crossed to his seat on the opposite side, and Arkell rose and reported the anthem to the lay-clerks behind him. Wilberforce was then reading the first lesson. Now it happened that there was only one bass at service that afternoon, he on the decani side, Mr.

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Smith flew into a temper. He had a first-rate voice, was a good singer, and being inordinately vain, liked to give himself airs. Hardcast, go up to the organ-loft, and tell——Or I wish you would oblige me by going yourself, Arkell: My compliments to Paul, and the anthem must be done without the bass solo, or he must put up another. Henry Arkell, ever ready to oblige, left his stall, proceeded to the organ-loft, and delivered the message. The organist was wroth: The organist took up one of the anthem books with a jerk, and turned over its leaves.

As Henry Arkell descended the stairs, Mr. Wilberforce was concluding the first lesson. So instead of giving notice of the change of anthem to Mr. Wilberforce and the singers on the cantori side, he left that until later, and made haste to his own stall, to be in time for the soli parts in the Cantate Domino, which was being sung that afternoon in place of the Magnificat.