When it was settled in this strong way that Old Cheeseman was a tremendous traitor, who had wormed himself into our fellows' secrets on purpose to get himself into favour by giving up everything he knew, all courageous fellows were invited to come forward and enrol themselves in a Society for making a set against him.The President of the Society was First boy, named Bob Tarter.His father was in the West Indies, and he owned, himself, that his father was worth Millions.He had great power among our fellows, and he wrote a parody, beginning -"Who made believe to be so meek That we could hardly hear him speak, Yet turned out an Informing Sneak? Old Cheeseman."- and on in that way through more than a dozen verses, which he used to go and sing, every morning, close by the new master's desk.He trained one of the low boys, too, a rosy-cheeked little Brass who didn't care what he did, to go up to him with his Latin Grammar one morning, and say it so: NOMINATIVUS PRONOMINUM--Old Cheeseman, RARO EXPRIMITUR--was never suspected, NISI DISTINCTIONIS--of being an informer, AUT EMPHASIS GRATiA--until he proved one.UT--for instance, VOS DAMNASTIS--when he sold the boys.QUASI--as though, DICAT--he should say, PRETAEREA NEMO--I'm a Judas! All this produced a great effect on Old Cheeseman.He had never had much hair; but what he had, began to get thinner and thinner every day.He grew paler and more worn; and sometimes of an evening he was seen sitting at his desk with a precious long snuff to his candle, and his hands before his face, crying.But no member of the Society could pity him, even if he felt inclined, because the President said it was Old Cheeseman's conscience.
So Old Cheeseman went on, and didn't he lead a miserable life! Of course the Reverend turned up his nose at him, and of course SHE did--because both of them always do that at all the masters--but he suffered from the fellows most, and he suffered from them constantly.He never told about it, that the Society could find out; but he got no credit for that, because the President said it was Old Cheeseman's cowardice.
He had only one friend in the world, and that one was almost as powerless as he was, for it was only Jane.Jane was a sort of wardrobe woman to our fellows, and took care of the boxes.She had come at first, I believe, as a kind of apprentice--some of our fellows say from a Charity, but I don't know--and after her time was out, had stopped at so much a year.So little a year, perhaps I ought to say, for it is far more likely.However, she had put some pounds in the Savings' Bank, and she was a very nice young woman.She was not quite pretty; but she had a very frank, honest, bright face, and all our fellows were fond of her.She was uncommonly neat and cheerful, and uncommonly comfortable and kind.And if anything was the matter with a fellow's mother, he always went and showed the letter to Jane.
Jane was Old Cheeseman's friend.The more the Society went against him, the more Jane stood by him.She used to give him a good- humoured look out of her still-room window, sometimes, that seemed to set him up for the day.She used to pass out of the orchard and the kitchen garden (always kept locked, I believe you!) through the playground, when she might have gone the other way, only to give a turn of her head, as much as to say "Keep up your spirits!" to Old Cheeseman.His slip of a room was so fresh and orderly that it was well known who looked after it while he was at his desk; and when our fellows saw a smoking hot dumpling on his plate at dinner, they knew with indignation who had sent it up.
Under these circumstances, the Society resolved, after a quantity of meeting and debating, that Jane should be requested to cut Old Cheeseman dead; and that if she refused, she must be sent to Coventry herself.So a deputation, headed by the President, was appointed to wait on Jane, and inform her of the vote the Society had been under the painful necessity of passing.She was very much respected for all her good qualities, and there was a story about her having once waylaid the Reverend in his ownstudy, and got a fellow off from severe punishment, of her own kind comfortable heart.So the deputation didn't much like the job.However, they went up, and the President told Jane all about it.Upon which Jane turned very red, burst into tears, informed the President and the deputation, in a way not at all like her usual way, that they were a parcel of malicious young savages, and turned the whole respected body out of the room.Consequently it was entered in the Society's book (kept in astronomical cypher for fear of detection), that all communication with Jane was interdicted: and the President addressed the members on this convincing instance of Old Cheeseman's undermining.
But Jane was as true to Old Cheeseman as Old Cheeseman was false to our fellows--in their opinion, at all events--and steadily continued to be his only friend.It was a great exasperation to the Society, because Jane was as much a loss to them as she was a gain to him; and being more inveterate against him than ever, they treated him worse than ever.At last, one morning, his desk stood empty, his room was peeped into, and found to be vacant, and a whisper went about among the pale faces of our fellows that Old Cheeseman, unable to bear it any longer, had got up early and drowned himself.
