CHAPTER III. Captain Grimes’ Story
PAULHADVERY little difficulty in finding the dining-hall. He was guided there by the smell of cooking and the sound of voices. It was a large, panelled room, far from disagreeable, with fifty or sixty boys of ages ranging from ten to eighteen settled along four long tables.
He was led to a place at the head of one of the tables. The boys on either side of him stood up very politely until he sat down. One of them was the boy who had whistled at Captain Grimes. Paul thought he rather liked him.
‘I’m called Beste-Chetwynde,’ he said.
‘I’ve got to teach you the organ, I believe.’
‘Yes, it’s great fun: we play in the village church. Do you play terribly well?’
Paul felt this was not a moment for candour, and so, ‘tempering discretion with deceit’, he said, ‘Yes, remarkably well.’
‘I say, do you really, or are you rotting?’
‘Indeed, I’m not. I used to give lessons to the Master of Scone.’
‘Well, you won’t be able to teach me much,’ said Beste-Chetwynde cheerfully. ‘I only do it to get off gym. I say, they haven’t given you a table-napkin. These servants are too awful. Philbrick’ he shouted to the butler ‘why haven’t you given Mr Pennyfeather a napkin?’
‘Forgot,’ said Philbrick, ‘and it’s too late now because Miss Fagan’s locked the linen up.’
‘Nonsense!’ said Beste-Chetwynde; ‘go and get one at once. That man’s all right, really,’ he added, ‘only he wants watching.’
In a few minutes Philbrick returned with the napkin.
‘It seems to me that you’re a remarkably intelligent boy,’ said Paul.
‘Captain Grimes doesn’t think so. He says I’m half-witted. I’m glad you’re not like Captain Grimes. He’s
