_crevasse_. You take me? Well, twenty years ago I sat here, in
hall, my last night in the old house, and I hoped that one day I might
come back. Why? This is between ourselves, a confidence. I came to the
Manor from a beastly school, such schools are hardly to be found
nowadays--a hardened young sinner at thirteen. The Manor licked me into
shape. Speaking generally, I suppose the tone of the house insensibly
communicated itself to me. The Manor was cock-house at games and work. I
began by shirking both. But the spirit of the Hill was too much for me.
I couldn't shirk that. Some jolly old boys, we all know them and like
them, are always saying that their early school-days were the happiest
of their lives. They're fond of telling this big lie just as they're
settling down to their claret. I really believe that they believe what
they say, but it _is_ a lie. The smallest boy here knows it's a lie.
Let's hark back a bit. I said I was licked into shape--and I mean
_licked_. I had a lot of really hard fagging--much harder than any of
you boys know--I was sent up and swished, I had whoppings innumerable,
and it wasn't pleasant. My mother had pinched herself to send me here,
because my father had been here before me; and I wondered why she did
it. At that time I couldn't see why cheaper schools shouldn't be not
only as good as Harrow, but perhaps better. Not till I was in the Fifth
did I get a glimmering of what my mother and the Manor were doing for
me. When I got into the Sixth and into the Eleven, I knew. And my last
year here made up, and more, too, for the previous four. I enjoyed that
year thoroughly; I had ceased to be a slacker. I tell you, all of you,
that happiness, like liberty, must be earned before we can enjoy it. And
you are sent here to earn it. I'm not going to keep you much longer. I
have come to the marrow of the matter. I owe the Manor a debt which I
hope to pay to--you. Just as you, in turn, will pay back to boys not yet
born the money your people have gladly spent on you, and other greater
things besides. I want to see this house at the top of the tree again:
cock-house at cricket, cock-house at footer, with a Balliol Scholar in
it, and a school racquet-player. And now Dumbleton is going to bring in
a little champagne. We'll drink high health and fellowship to the Manor
and the Hill!"

His face broke into the smile his form knew so well; he sat down, as the
house roared its welcome to a friend.

As soon a