Priscilla's Spies

A. Birmingham George

Description

Irish writer James Owen Hannay wrote under the pen name "George A. Birmingham," in part to keep his literary career distinct from his work as a clergyman. This delightful romp presents a charming account of a summer beach vacation in Ireland -- and a grudging friendship that unexpectedly blossoms into something more.

Informations

• Publié par: The Floating Press
• Date de parution: 01 juillet 2014
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781776580392
• Langue: English

Extrait

PRISCILLA'S SPIES
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GEORGE A. BIRMINGHAM
 
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Priscilla's Spies First published in 1912 Epub ISBN 978-1-77658-039-2 Also available: PDF ISBN 978-1-77658-040-8 © 2014 The Floating Press and its licensors. All rights reserved. While every effort has been used to ensure the accuracy and reliability of the information contained in The Floating Press edition of this book, The Floating Press does not assume liability or responsibility for any errors or omissions in this book. The Floating Press does not accept responsibility for loss suffered as a result of reliance upon the accuracy or currency of information contained in this book. Do not use while operating a motor vehicle or heavy equipment. Many suitcases look alike. Visit www.thefloatingpress.com
Contents
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Chapter I Chapter II Chapter III Chapter IV Chapter V Chapter VI Chapter VII Chapter VIII Chapter IX Chapter X Chapter XI Chapter XII Chapter XIII Chapter XIV Chapter XV Chapter XVI Chapter XVII Chapter XVIII Chapter XIX Chapter XX Chapter XXI Chapter XXII
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To M. E. M., M. S. R., D. P., and L. K. The vision of whose tents I have panned about the bay.
Chapter I
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The summer term ended in a blaze of glory for Frank Mannix. It was agenerally accepted opinion in the school that his brilliant catch in thelong field—a catch which disposed of the Uppingham captain—had beenthe decisive factor in winning the most important of matches. And thevictory was particularly gratifying, for Haileybury had been defeatedfor five years previously. There was no doubt at all that the sixty notout made by Mannix in the first innings rendered victory possible in the"cock house" match, and that his performance as a bowler, first change,in the second innings, secured the coveted trophy, a silver cup, forEdmonstone House. These feats were duly recorded by Mr. Dupré, the housemaster, in a neat speech which he made at a feast given in the classroomto celebrate the glory of the house. When the plates of the eleven werefinally cleared of cherry tart and tumblers were refilled with the mostinnocuous claret cup, Mr. Dupré rose to his feet
He chronicled the virtues and successes of the hero of the hour.The catch in the Uppingham match was touched on—a dangerous bat thatUppingham captain. The sixty not out in the house match had beenrewarded with a presentation bat bearing a silver shield on the back ofit. No boy in the house, so Mr. Dupré said, grudged the sixpence whichhad been stopped from his pocket money to pay for the bat. Then, passingto graver matters, Mr. Dupré spoke warmly of the tone of the house, thatindefinable quality which in the eyes of a faithful schoolmaster is moreprecious than rubies. It was Mannix, prefect and member of the lowersixth, who more than any one else deserved credit for the fact thatEdmonstone stood second to no house in the school in the matter of tone.The listening eleven, and the other prefects who, though not membersof the victorious eleven, had been invited to the feast, cheeredvigorously. They understood what tone meant though Mr. Dupré did notdefine it. They knew that it was mainly owing to the determined attitudeof Mannix that young Latimer, who collected beetles and kept tame whitemice, had been induced to wash himself properly and to use a clothesbrush on the legs of his trousers. Latimer's appearance in the olddays before Mannix took him in hand had lowered the tone of the house.Mannix' own appearance—though Mr. Dupré did not mention this—added theweight of example to his precepts. His taste in ties was acknowledged.No member of the school eleven knotted a crimson sash round his waistwith more admired precision. Nor was the success of the hero confinedto the playing fields and the dormitory. Mr. Dupré noted the fact thatMannix had added other laurels to the crown of the house's glory bywinning the head master's prize for Greek iambics.
Mr. Dupré sat down. Mannix himself, blushing but pleasurably consciousthat his honours were deserved, rose to his feet. As President of theLiterary Society and a debater of formidable quality, he was well ableto make a speech. He chose instead to sing a song. It was one, so heinformed his audience, which Mr. Dupré had composed specially for theoccasion. The tune indeed was old. Every one would recognise it at onceand join in the chorus. The words, and he, Frank Mannix, hoped theywould dwell in the memory of those who sang them, were Mr. Dupré's own.The eleven, the prefects and Mr. Dupré himself joined with uproarioustunefulness in a chorus which went tolerably trippingly to the air of"Here's to the Maiden of Bashful Fifteen."
"Here's to the House, Edmonstone House. Floreat semper Edmonstone House."
Mannix trolled the words out in a clear tenor voice. One after anotherof the eleven, even Fenton, the slow bowler who had no ear for music,picked them up. The noise flowed through the doors and windows of theclassroom. It reached the distant dormitory and stimulated small boys inpyjamas to thrills of envious excitement It was Mannix again, Mannix athis greatest and best, who half an hour later stood up in his place.With an air of authority which became him well he raised his hand andstilled the babbling voices of the enthusiastic eleven. Then, pitchingon a note which brought the tune well within the compass of evenFenton's growling bass, he began the school songs,
"Adsis musa canentibus Laeta voce canentibus Longos clara per annos Haileyburia floreat."
House feeling, local patriotism to thetune of "The Maiden of Bashful Fifteen," was well enough. Behind it,deep in the swelling heart of Mannix, lay a wider thing, a kind ofimperialism, a devotion to the school itself. Far across the dimquadrangle rang the words "Haileyburia Floreat." It was Mannix'sgreatest moment
Three days later the school broke up. Excited farewells were said byboys eagerly pressing into the brakes which bore them to the Hertfordstation. Mannix, one of the earliest to depart, went off from the midstof a group of admirers. It was understood by his friends that he was tospend the summer fishing in the west of Ireland—salmon fishing. Therewould be grouse shooting too. Mannix had mentioned casually a salmon rodand a new gun. Happy Mannix!
The west of Ireland is a remote region, wild no doubt, half barbarousperhaps. Even Mr. Dupré, who knew almost all things knowable, admitted,as he shook hands with his favorite pupil, that he knew the west ofIreland only by repute. But Mannix might be relied on to sustainin those far regions the honour of the school. Small boys, bornhero-worshippers, gathered in groups to await the brakes which shouldcarry them to less splendid summer sports, and spoke to each other inconfidence of the salmon which Mannix would catch and the multitude ofgrouse which would fall before the explosions of his gun.
Chapter II
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Edward Mannix, Esq., M. P., father of the fortunate Frank, holds theoffice of Parliamentary Under-Secretary of the War Office, a positionof great importance at all times, but particularly so under thecircumstances under which Mannix held it. His chief, Lord Tolerton,Secretary of State for War, was incapacitated by the possession of amarquisate from sitting in the House of Commons. It was the duty,the very onerous duty, of Mr. Edward Mannix to explain to therepresentatives of the people who did not agree with him in politicsthat the army, under Lord Torrington's administration, was adequatelyarmed and intelligently drilled. The strain overwhelmed him, and hisdoctor ordered him to take mud baths at Schlangenbad. Mrs. Mannixbehaved as a good wife should under such circumstances. She lifted everycare, not directly connected with the army, from her husband's mind.The beginning of Frank's holidays synchronised with the close of theparliamentary session. She arranged that Frank should spend the holidayswith Sir Lucius Lentaigne in Rosnacree. She had every right to demandthat her son should be allowed to catch the salmon and shoot the grouseof Sir Lucius. Lady Lentaigne, who died young, was Mrs. Mannix's sister.Sir Lucius was therefore Frank's uncle. Edward Mannix, M. P., worriedby Lord Torrington and threatened by his doctor, acquiesced in thearrangement. He ordered a fishing rod and a gun for Frank. He sent theboy a ten-pound note and then departed, pleasantly fussed over by hiswife, to seek new vigour in the mud of Germany.
Frank Mannix, seventeen years old, prefect and hero, stretched himselfwith calm satisfaction in a corner of a smoking carriage in the Irishnight mail. Above him on the rack were his gun-case, his fishing-rod,neatly tied into its waterproof cover, and a brown kit-bag. He smokeda nice Egyptian cigarette, puffing out from time to time large fragrantclouds from mouth and nostrils. His fingers, the fingers of the handwhich was not occupied with the cigarette, occasionally caressed hisupper lip. A fine down could be distinctly felt there. In a good lightit could even be seen. Since the middle of the Easter term he had foundit necessary to shave his chin and desirable to stimulate the growthupon his upper lip with occasional applications of brilliantine. He wasthoroughly satisfied with the brown tweed suit which he wore, a pleasantchange of attire after the black coats and grey trousers enjoined by theschool authorities. He liked the look of a Burberry gabardine which laybeside him on the seat. There was a suggestion of sport about it; yetit in no way transgressed the line of good taste. Frank Mannix was awarethat his ties had set a lofty standard to the school. He felt sure thathis instinctive good taste had not deserted him in choosing the brownsuit and the gabardine.
Of his boots he was a little doubtful. Their brown was aggressive; butthat, so the gentleman in Harrod's Stores who sold them had assured him,would pass away in time. Aggressiveness of colour is inevitable in newbrown boots.
At Rugby he lit a second cigarette and commented on the warmth ofthe night to an elderly gentlem