“Two boys,” said he, “are absent to-day — absent because they have left Willoughby for good. Now that they are gone, I need not dwell on the harm they have done, except to warn any boys present, who may be tempted to follow in their steps, of the disgrace and shame which always follow vice and dishonesty.”
There was a great stir and looking round as the doctor reached this point. He had not yet announced the names, though most present were able to guess them.
“It’s not you two, then?” whispered Telson across the bench to where Cusack and Pilbury sat in mutual perplexity.
“Two things at least are comforting in what has passed,” continued the doctor. “One is that by the confession of these two boys a very unpleasant mystery, which affected the honour of the whole school, has been cleared up; I mean, of course, the accident at the boat-race early in the term.”
It was then, that! Willoughby bristled up with startled eagerness to hear the rest, and even Telson found no joke ready to hand.
“The other consolation is that one of the boys, Gilks—”
There was a sudden half-suppressed exclamation as the name was announced, which disconcerted the doctor for a moment.
“Gilks,” pursued he, “expressed deep contrition for what he had done, and wished, when leaving, that the school should know of his shame and sorrow. He left here a softened and, I hope, a changed boy; and I feel sure this appeal to the generosity of his old schoolfellows will secure for him what he most desires — your forgiveness.”
There was a silence, and every face was grave, as the doctor concluded, “I wish I could say as much of his companion, and I fear, leader in wrong — Silk.”
There was another start, but less of surprise than assent this time. For when Gilks had been named as one culprit every one knew the name of the other.
“I have no message for you from him,” said the doctor, with a voice in which a faint tremble was discernible; “but on his behalf we may at least hope that in new scenes, and under more favourable conditions, he may be able to recover the character he lost here. An event like this carries its own lesson. Do not be too ready to blame them, but let their example be humbly taken by each one of you as a warning against the first approach of temptation, from which none of us is free, and which by God’s help only can any of us hope ever to resist or overcome.”
The doctor’s words did not fail to make a deep impression on those present. There were not a few whose consciences told them that after all the difference between them and the expelled boys was not very great, and it had needed a warning like this to arouse them.
The rest of the day a subdued atmosphere hung over Willoughby. A good many boys thought more than was their wont, and even the noisiest shrunk from indulging their high spirits to their customary extent.
But the chief feeling that day was one of relief. Not that two bad boys had been expelled, but because the hateful boat-race mystery had been finally cleared up, and with it the reproach on the honour of Willoughby had been removed. As long as it had hung like a black cloud over the term, boys had lacked spirit and encouragement to rally for the good of the school. House had been divided against house, set against set, captain against captain, and the order and discipline of the school had gone down to a miserable pitch.
Against all these opposing influences the new captain, as we have seen, had struggled gallantly, and not wholly without success; but even his influence could not disperse all the suspicions, and heartburnings, and jealousies that centred round that unlucky race. Now, however, the clearing up of that mystery, and, still more, the new alliance, rumours of which were spreading fast, between the two captains, opened new hopes for the old school.
There were not a few who at first treated the rumours of the new alliance with sceptical derision, but they had soon cause to discover that it was more than a joke.
Stutter and Wibberly, two of the sceptics, happened to be caught that very afternoon by Bloomfield in the act of “skulking” dinner — that is, of answering to their names at the call-over, and then slipping off unobserved to enjoy a rather more elaborate clandestine meal in their own study. It was not a very uncommon offence, or perhaps a very terrible one, but it was an offence which monitors were bound to report.
“Where are you off to?” demanded Bloomfield, encountering these two deserters.
“Oh, it’s all right,” said Wibberly, “we’ve been called over. We’re only going to Stutter’s study.”
“Go back at once,” said Bloomfield, “and go to the captain after six.”
Wibberly laughed.
“You’re joking surely,” said he; “you usen’t to mind the extra feeds now and then.”
“If I shirked my duty once it’s no reason I should do it for ever. Go back, do you hear? at once.”
“What, won’t you let us go this time?” said Wibberly, quite bewildered by this unexpected sternness on the part of his old patron.
“Do you hear what I say?” thundered Bloomfield. “Do you want to be licked into the bargain?”
“Oh, very well,” said Wibberly, with a last fond thought of Stutter’s good bill of fare. “But, I say, you needn’t give us lines, Bloomfield.”
“I’ve nothing to do with giving you lines. That’s the captain’s affair.”
“What do you mean? Do you mean to say you’ll report us to Riddell?”
“Of course. He’s the captain.”
“Oh, look here!” cried Wibberly, quite convinced now that the rumours were no joke. “We’ll go back, and we’ll do lines for you, but for goodness’ sake don’t send us up to him.”
“We had no warning, you see,” said Stutter, “that things were changed.”
“Go back, then,” said Bloomfield, “and make up your minds unless you keep rules you’ll get treated just the same as any other rowdies. I won’t report you this time, but you’d better take care what you do.”
This little incident made a remarkable impression, not only on the two boys immediately concerned, but on the school generally. For it soon got noised about, and no public proclamation could have made the state of Bloomfield’s mind clearer.
But a day or two later the last glimmer of doubt was removed by the proceedings which took place in that august assembly, the Willoughby Parliament.
Honourable members assembled in large numbers, as they always did after any special school excitement, and even had this inducement been lacking, the significant sentence, “Resignation of Mr Bloomfield — Election of President,” on the notice-board would have sufficed to pack the house.
Riddell had implored Bloomfield not to take this step, or at least to defer it to the beginning of the next term. But he might as well have pleaded with a lamp-post. The Parrett’s captain was inexorable.
“No,” said he; “if it was the last day of the term I’d do it. It would serve me right if I was kicked round the school for sticking there so long.”
Before the business began Crossfield rose and asked to be allowed to put a question. This was the signal for a general buzz of anticipation which was not lessened by the sight of Messrs Game and Ashley looking very uncomfortable where they sat.
“I should like to ask Mr Game, whom I see present, if he will kindly report to the House the proceedings of the last special meeting, which he summoned in the interests of the honour of the school. I hope the gentleman will speak out, as we are all anxious to hear him.”
Game blushed up to the roots of his hair, and dug his hands in his pocket, and tried to look as unconcerned as possible at the laughter which greeted this innocent question.
As he made no offer to reply, Crossfield thereupon regaled the House with a highly facetious report of that famous meeting, amid much laughter and cheers, not a few of which were directed to the heroic “Skyrockets.” This little diversion being at an end, it was suggested by the Chair that perhaps the matter might now drop, which, greatly to the relief of the discomfited ex-monitors, it accordingly did, and after a few other questions the orders of the day were reached.