This Stopford ought to have died a hundred times a Sunday really. He was not merely bad. That was nothing, because we all were. At any rate, none of us were good enough to get consumption. But he was a beast as well—an utter beast—and nobody liked him but Fowle; and nobody ever liked Fowle, so in self-defence Fowle had to like Stopford.
This Stopford was a bully, among other things, and a great hater of Richmond minimus. I think really it was the frightful sufferings of Richmond that made him take to preaching in a way, because, though Richmond minor was as old as Stopford, he had no muscles, being merely a piece of string for strength; so, though Richmond major could tackle Stopford, and did so till he left, after he had gone, there was nobody much to care whether Stopford bullied the kid or didn’t bully him.
The first time I saw any of the instinct to preaching in Richmond minimus was after a footer match. It was the time when Buckland Grammar School licked us rather badly, owing to Mathers and Bray having smoked in secret before the match and being in far too footling a condition to play; and Richmond said to me afterwards, when we went back to Dunstan’s, smothered by four goals to none, that often what we did in secret was rewarded openly.
"Hullo! That’s like the Doctor on Sunday."
"Let us take this defeat in a proper spirit, Gregson. It may be for our good. As you know, I suffer a great deal from Stopford. Well, it will all tell some day. I don’t exactly understand now why Stopford is allowed to twist my arms and then hit the muscles till they ache for hours and often keep me awake at night; but there’s a reason."
"The reason is that Richmond major has gone," I said.
"There’s a better reason than that," he said. "I may turn Stopford from his beastliness yet. Once or twice I’ve staggered him a bit with telling him what will come of his cruelty to me."
That was the first time I seemed to see a screw loose in Richmond minimus; but he didn’t absolutely preach right bang out until we’d had a missionary at the chapel one Sunday.
Our chapel was also the big school-room, and at one end were panels of wood on week-days which very cunningly opened and turned into the Ten Commandments on Sundays. On each side was a door, and one was the Doctor’s private entrance into the chapel, and the other was a deep cupboard wherein were kept blackboards, large maps and other things. In this chapel the missionary, who was an old pupil of Dr. Dunstan’s, preached to us about the heathen of some rather good-sounding place; and Richmond minimus was so excited that he gave all his pocket-money and borrowed two-pence of Williamson. In this manner he subscribed in all fivepence; and if he could have borrowed more he would have given more. From that day he decided to be a missionary at least, if not a martyr.