CHAPTER 2
Across the road behind a rampart of ancient elms lay Brookfield, russet under its autumn mantle of creeper. A group of eighteenth century building centred upon a quadrangle, and there were acres of playing-fields beyond. Then came the small dependent village and the open fen country. Brookfield, as Wetherby had said, was an old foundation; established in reign of Elizabeth, as
a grammar school, it might, with better luck, have become as famous as Harrow.
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Its luck, however, had been not so good; the school went .up antj. down, dwindling almost to non-existence at one time, becoming almost illustrious at another. It was during one of these later periods, in the reign of the first George, that the main structure had been rebuilt and large additions made. Later, after the Napoleonic Wars' and until mid-Victorian days, the school declined again, both in numbers and repute. Wetherby, who came in 1840, restored its fortunes ? omewhat; but its subsequent history- never raised it to from>rank status. It was, rtheless, a good school of the second rank. Several notable families :>upported it; it supplied fair samples of the history-making men of the age -judges, members of Parliament, colonial administrators, a few peers and
recognize that the odds were heavily against his befng able to better himself by moving elsewhere; but about that time also, the possibility of staying, where he was, began to fill a comfortable niche in his mind. At forty, he was rooted, settled, and quite happy. At fifty he was the doyen of the staff. At sixty-, under a new and youthful Head, he was Brookfield; the guest of honour at Old Brookfieldian dinners, the court of appeal in all matters affecting Brookfield history and traditions. And in 1913, when he turned sixty-five, he retired, was presented with a cheque and a writing desk and a clock, and went across the road to live at Mrs. Wickett's. A decent career, decently closed; three cheers for old Chips, they all shouted, at that uproarious end-of-term dinner.
Three cheers, indeed; but there was more to come, an unguessed
epilogue, an encore played to a tragic audience.