Like the women of the Avenue, he was touched, deep down, by their mutual devotion, and it seemed to him that if he could confirm their story he might improve upon the occasion by disposing of Mr. Little once and for all.
This proved a good deal easier than he anticipated.
The housewife who returned the cane provided further corroboration, and so, with a little judicious prompting, did two of the oppressed female staff. Their statements opened the door to further investigations, and finally Mr. Porless was prevailed upon to put on paper a factual report of Mr. Little's behaviour during the past twelve months.
There was a certain limit, it seemed, to the powers that headmasters of Council Schools could exercise, and it was now very clear to the authorities that Mr. Little had exceeded that limit on numerous occasions. Mr. Porless was promoted, Mr. Little was promptly retired on grounds of ill-health; the changes were carried out with a minimum of fuss and, to Mr. Goreham's soldierly relief, without a whisper of newspaper publicity. He, in fact, was warmly congratulated by his superiors on the efficiency and dispatch he had exhibited in handling the affair; and with this commendation the incident was officially closed.
For the twins, however, there was a curious sequel. During investigations Mr. Goreham called upon their father, and discovered that he and Jim had served in the same sector during the Passchendaele offensive. Having established this, they were not disposed to go very deeply into the business which had brought Mr. Goreham into the sitting-room of Number Twenty. They had taken part in great events, and were thus able to get Mr. Little's stomach cramp into its correct perspective. Only when they were parting did Mr. Goreham refer once more to the mutiny, and give Jim Carver a final piece of friendly advice.
“Those lads of yours,” he said, with apparent casualness; “it might be a good idea to shift them for their own good.”
“But you said they weren't to be punished,” protested Jim.
“That's true,” replied Mr. Goreham; “but Little's name stank over there, and it isn't surprising that they are now regarded as heroes!”
“Well,” said Jim, “that's understandable, isn't it?”
“Certainly it is,” replied Mr. Goreham affably, “but it might go to their heads. Bernard isn't likely to get big-headed about all this nonsense, but the other one might. Why don't you try getting them in at the Grammar School, over at Godley? It's only a two-penny bus fare from the Lower Road depot, and they'd get a better start there.”
“On three-fifteen a week?” replied Jim cynically. “Unless they win scholarships, I couldn't think of it. Isn't there some other school round here they could go to?”
“I'll see what I can do to get them shifted over to Sydenham Road,” promised the Inspector. “It's not in my district, but I dare say I can manage it in the circumstances.”
Mr. Goreham did manage it Like almost everybody, he had succumbed to the unity of Bernard and Boxer. In a highly competitive world they became, for other people, a sort of symbol of co-operative bliss. Without either of them ever knowing it they were to reap the advantages of this all their lives.
They moved over to Sydenham Road School, where their fame as “the twins who got the Head sacked” preceded them, and made their settling-in easy, but they did not remain at a Council School much longer. Mr. Goreham continued to interest himself in them, and maintained his casual friendship with Jim Carver. The result was that he found their fees for the Grammar School from some mysterious ex-servicemen's fund. By their eleventh birthday they were bedded down at Godley, and were to be seen almost any morning in termtime, leaping on to the tail-boards of slow-moving lorries in the Lower Road, in order that they might arrive at school before second bell, and yet retain their twopenny fares for gob-stoppers.
Bernard and Boxer accounted
This proved a good deal easier than he anticipated.
The housewife who returned the cane provided further corroboration, and so, with a little judicious prompting, did two of the oppressed female staff. Their statements opened the door to further investigations, and finally Mr. Porless was prevailed upon to put on paper a factual report of Mr. Little's behaviour during the past twelve months.
There was a certain limit, it seemed, to the powers that headmasters of Council Schools could exercise, and it was now very clear to the authorities that Mr. Little had exceeded that limit on numerous occasions. Mr. Porless was promoted, Mr. Little was promptly retired on grounds of ill-health; the changes were carried out with a minimum of fuss and, to Mr. Goreham's soldierly relief, without a whisper of newspaper publicity. He, in fact, was warmly congratulated by his superiors on the efficiency and dispatch he had exhibited in handling the affair; and with this commendation the incident was officially closed.
For the twins, however, there was a curious sequel. During investigations Mr. Goreham called upon their father, and discovered that he and Jim had served in the same sector during the Passchendaele offensive. Having established this, they were not disposed to go very deeply into the business which had brought Mr. Goreham into the sitting-room of Number Twenty. They had taken part in great events, and were thus able to get Mr. Little's stomach cramp into its correct perspective. Only when they were parting did Mr. Goreham refer once more to the mutiny, and give Jim Carver a final piece of friendly advice.
“Those lads of yours,” he said, with apparent casualness; “it might be a good idea to shift them for their own good.”
“But you said they weren't to be punished,” protested Jim.
“That's true,” replied Mr. Goreham; “but Little's name stank over there, and it isn't surprising that they are now regarded as heroes!”
“Well,” said Jim, “that's understandable, isn't it?”
“Certainly it is,” replied Mr. Goreham affably, “but it might go to their heads. Bernard isn't likely to get big-headed about all this nonsense, but the other one might. Why don't you try getting them in at the Grammar School, over at Godley? It's only a two-penny bus fare from the Lower Road depot, and they'd get a better start there.”
“On three-fifteen a week?” replied Jim cynically. “Unless they win scholarships, I couldn't think of it. Isn't there some other school round here they could go to?”
“I'll see what I can do to get them shifted over to Sydenham Road,” promised the Inspector. “It's not in my district, but I dare say I can manage it in the circumstances.”
Mr. Goreham did manage it Like almost everybody, he had succumbed to the unity of Bernard and Boxer. In a highly competitive world they became, for other people, a sort of symbol of co-operative bliss. Without either of them ever knowing it they were to reap the advantages of this all their lives.
They moved over to Sydenham Road School, where their fame as “the twins who got the Head sacked” preceded them, and made their settling-in easy, but they did not remain at a Council School much longer. Mr. Goreham continued to interest himself in them, and maintained his casual friendship with Jim Carver. The result was that he found their fees for the Grammar School from some mysterious ex-servicemen's fund. By their eleventh birthday they were bedded down at Godley, and were to be seen almost any morning in termtime, leaping on to the tail-boards of slow-moving lorries in the Lower Road, in order that they might arrive at school before second bell, and yet retain their twopenny fares for gob-stoppers.
Bernard and Boxer accounted
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