Toff for a Day

To the fifth formers of Britain's silver-spooned Forest School in Snaresbrook, Essex, Christopher Youngs, 15, seemed too shy to be a leader, too dull to be a dormitory rogue. As a matter of fact, the boys called him Bumblie. But last week old Bumblie had suddenly come into his own. He had some smashing news, he told his classmates one day--and off he went to see Headmaster Gerald Miller.

"Sir," said Bumblie, "I have just learned that I have inherited a preparatory school from my uncle." Headmaster Miller nodded his head, but did not show the least surprise: Forest rather expects its students to come from families with uncles who might own fashionable schools. "Very good of you to inform me, Youngs," aid Miller. "Congratulations." Christopher went on to explain that his new property was not so good or so large as Forest. It was small but respectable Marlborough College with 170 students and eleven masters. "I think I will be needing some time to go and look at it," said Christopher. "But I expect my father will be calling you about it."

Sure enough, that afternoon just before the fifth form was due to fall out for cadet training (a period that Christopher particularly disliked), Headmaster Miller got the call. "This is Christopher's father," said a gruff voice over the phone. 'My lad has had the good fortune to be left Marlborough College, the prep school at Mill Hill. He would like to go over and have a look at the place. Is that all right with you?" So Christopher had his look, and when he got back to Forest at tea time, the whole student body began buzzing with the glorious tales he told. The first thing old Bumblie did when he got to Marlborough, he said, was to address the entire school, masters and all. Then he sacked the matron ("She's a bit of a stinker, it seems"). After that, he gave the headmaster a terrific wigging for overworking the boys. To top it all off, he said he was going to declare an extra day's holiday around Christmas. "What a rogue," said the boys of the fifth form. Old Bumblie could certainly play the toff.

As the stories grew, Headmaster Miller began to get suspicious. He looked up Christopher's new property on the public school list, found no such place as Marlborough at Mill Hill. After telephoning Christopher's father, he also found that the boy had no uncle and no inheritance. Last week, as Headmaster Miller good-naturedly tried to decide what sort of punishment would fit Christopher's crime ("He broke every rule. But it was all so diabolically clever"), London's newspapers were having a field day. "What a corker!" cried the Daily Express. "Boy's Hoax Takes in All the School," said the Daily Sketch. "Even Hoaxes the Head," added the News Chronicle. Why had Christopher done it? "Things had been so frightfully dull around here," said the boy who used to be called Bumblie. "I just felt I had to stir something up."

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