It was in such genial company that Riddell, the head classic of Willoughby, was invited to bask for a short time on the evening of the day before the appointment of the new captain. He had been there once before when his father and mother had come over to visit him. And even with their presence as a set-off, the evening had been one of the most awful experiences of his life. But now that he was to go all alone to partake of state tea with those two, this shy awkward boy felt about as cheerful as if he had been walking helplessly into a lion’s den.

“Well, Riddell,” said the doctor, pleasantly, as after long hesitation the guest at last ventured to arrive, “how are you? My dear, this is Riddell, whom I believe you have seen before. Miss Stringer too I think you met.”

Riddell coloured deeply and shivered inwardly as he advanced first to one lady then to the other and solemnly shook hands.

“I trust your parents are in good health, Mr Riddell,” said Mrs Patrick in her most precise tones.

“Very well indeed, thank you,” replied Riddell; “that is,” he added, correcting himself suddenly, “my mother is very poorly, thank you.”

“I regret to hear you say so,” said Mrs Patrick, transfixing the unhappy youth with her eyes. “I trust her indisposition is not of a serious character.”

“I hope she will, thank you, ma’am,” replied Riddell, who somehow fancied his hostess had said, or had been going to say, she hoped his mother would soon recover.

“Er, I beg your pardon?” said Mrs Patrick, leaning slightly forward and inclining her head a little on one side.

“I mean, I beg your pardon,” said Riddell, suddenly perceiving his mistake and losing his head at the same time, “I mean, quite so, thank you.”

“You mean,” interposed Miss Stringer at this point, in a voice a note deeper than her sister’s, “that your mother’s indisposition is of a serious character?”

“Oh no, not at all, I’m sure,” ejaculated the hapless Riddell.

“I am glad to hear you say so, very,” said Miss Stringer.

“Very,” said Mrs Patrick.

At this point Riddell had serious thoughts of bolting altogether, and might have done so had not the servant just then created a diversion by bringing in the kettle.

“Sit down, Riddell,” said the doctor, “and make yourself at home. What are the prospects for the regatta this year? Is the schoolhouse boat to win?”

“I’m sorry I can’t say,” replied Riddell. “I believe Parrett’s is the favourite.”

“Mr Riddell means Mr Parrett’s, I presume?” asked Mrs Patrick in her sweetest tones, looking hard at the speaker, and emphasising the “Mr”

“I beg your pardon,” he said, “I’m sorry.”

“We shall miss Wyndham,” said the doctor.

“Yes, thank you,” replied Riddell, who at that moment was dodging vaguely in front of Miss Stringer as she stood solemnly waiting to get past him to the tea-table.

It was a relief when tea was at last ready, and when some other occupation was possible than that of looking at and being looked at by these two ladies.

“You’re not very fond of athletics, Riddell?” asked the doctor.

“No, sir,” answered Riddell, steadily avoiding the eyes of the females.

“I often think you’d be better if you took more exercise,” said the doctor.

“Judging by Mr Riddell’s looks,” said Mrs Patrick, “it would certainly seem as if he hardly did himself justice physically.”

This enigmatical sentence, which might have been a compliment or might have been a rebuke or might have meant neither, Riddell found himself quite unable to reply to appropriately, and therefore, like a sensible man, took a drink of tea instead. It was the first dawn of reviving presence of mind.

“Apart from your own health altogether,” continued the doctor, “I fancy your position with the other boys would be better if you entered rather more into their sports.”

“I often feel that, sir,” said Riddell, with a touch of seriousness in his tones, “and I wish I could do it.”

“I hope that there is no consideration as to health which debars you from this very desirable exercise, Mr Riddell,” said Mrs Patrick. “I beg your pardon,” said Riddell, who did not quite take it in. Mrs Patrick never liked being asked to repeat her speeches. She flattered herself they were lucid enough to need no second delivery. She therefore repeated her remark slowly and in precisely the same words and tone—

“I hope that there is no consideration as to health which debars you from this very desirable exercise, Mr Riddell?”

Riddell took half a moment to consider, and then replied, triumphantly, “I’m quite well, thank you, ma’am.”

“I am pleased to hear that,” said Mrs Patrick, rather icily, for this last observation had seemed to her a little rude. “Very,” chimed in Miss Stringer.

After this there was a silence, which Riddell devoutly hoped might last till it was time to go. Had the ladies not been there he would have liked very much to speak to the doctor about school matters, and the doctor, but for the same cause, would have wished to talk to his head boy. But it was evident this tea-table was not the place for such conversation.

“I hear,” said the doctor, after the pause had continued some time, addressing his sister-in-law, “there is likely to be an election in Shellport before long; Sir Abraham is retiring.”

“Indeed, you surprise me,” said Miss Stringer. “It is unexpected,” said the doctor, “but it is thought there will be a sharp contest for the seat.”

“And are you a Liberal or a Conservative, Mr Riddell?” asked Mrs Patrick, thinking it time that unfortunate youth was again tempted into the conversation.

“A Liberal, ma’am,” replied Riddell. “Oh! boys are generally Conservatives, are they not?” She asked this question in a tone as if she expected him to try to deceive her in his answer. However, he evaded it by replying bashfully, “I hope not.”

“And pray,” said Miss Stringer, putting down her cup, and turning full on her victim, “will you favour us with your reasons for such a hope, Mr Riddell?”

Poor Riddell! he little thought what he had let himself in for. If there was one subject the two ladies were rabid on it was politics. They proceeded to pounce upon, devour, and annihilate the unlucky head classic without mercy. They made him contradict himself twice or thrice in every sentence; they proved to him clearly that he knew nothing at all of what he was talking about, and generally gave him to understand that he was an impertinent, conceited puppy for presuming to have an opinion of his own on such matters!

Riddell came out of the ordeal very much as a duck comes out of the hands of the poulterer. Luckily, by the time the discussion was over it was time for him to go. He certainly could not have held out much longer. As it was, he was good for nothing after it, and went to bed early that night with a very bad headache.

Before he left, however, the doctor had accompanied him into the hall, and said, “There are a few things, Riddell, I want to speak to you about. Will you come to my study a quarter of an hour before morning chapel to-morrow?”

Had the invitation been to breakfast in that horrible parlour Riddell would flatly have declined it. As it was he cheerfully accepted it, and only wished the doctor had thought of it before, and spared him the misery of that evening with the two Willoughby griffins!

He could hardly help guessing what it was the doctor had to say to him, or why it was he had been asked to tea that evening. And he felt very dejected as he thought about it. Like most of the other Willoughbites, the idea of a new captain having to be appointed had never occurred to him till Wyndham had finally left the school. And when it did occur, and when moreover it began to dawn upon him that he himself was the probable successor, horror filled his mind. He couldn’t do it. He was not cut out for it. He would sooner leave Willoughby altogether. The boys either knew nothing about him, or they laughed at him for his clumsiness, or they suspected him as a coward, or they despised him as a prig. He had wit enough to know what Willoughby thought of him, and that being so, how could he ever be its captain?