The Hero of Garside School Part 27

"Hallo! Where are you running to in such a hurry?" he asked, in that gentle voice he always used to Hibbert--softer than that used by him to any other boy in the school.

"Out--in--the grounds, sir."

In stumbling, Hibbert's hand had been jerked from his breast, and Mr.

Weevil caught sight of the letter.

"What's that--a letter?"

Hibbert did not answer. It was useless denying it.

"Step this way."

Mr. Weevil's tone had now become quite stern. He led the way into one of the cla.s.s-rooms; then closed the door.

"Now have the goodness to hand me that letter," he said, gazing at Hibbert through half-closed eyes.

Hibbert dared not refuse; so he handed him the letter.

Mr. Weevil's eyes opened to their fullest extent when he saw the address on it:

W. MONCRIEF, Esq., Redmead, Oakville (Kent).

"For whom were you posting this letter--Moncrief major, or Moncrief minor?"

"Neither," came the low answer.

"Who, then? Come; no harm shall befall you if you speak the truth."

"I don't mind myself, but--but--I don't want any harm to happen to--to----"

"The one who sent you--eh? Well, we'll see. Just tell me frankly who sent you with this letter? It is quite easy for me to find out by opening it, you know; but I would much rather hear it from you."

"Percival," answered the boy, hesitatingly, seeing there was no help for it.

"Percival!" echoed the master. "Wait here a moment."

He left the room with the letter. Hibbert wondered what he intended doing with it. Would he open it, or would he send for Percival? He was on thorns. Percival had particularly wished to keep the note from Mr.

Weevil. The very first thing he had asked him to do--and that so simple--he had made a mess of.

"How stupid of me! How stupid of me! Percival will never trust me with anything again."

In a few minutes Mr. Weevil returned. His face had not lost its sternness.

"In sending you with that letter, Percival knew well enough he was acting against the rules of the school."

"I--I--dare say it slipped his memory, sir."

"Nothing of the sort. He knew well enough he was breaking the rules of the school, and, worse still, that he was making you an accomplice in the act. However, I do not intend to deal severely with the case, for your sake. You are quite new to the ways and rules of this place. Take the letter. Post it; but don't say a word to Percival that I stopped you. Do you understand?"

"Yes; I understand," said the boy, as he took the letter, and ran off with it to the post. He looked at the letter as he ran. Was it the same?

Yes, the very same--the same address, in Paul's handwriting. It was very kind of Mr. Weevil, and he would always be grateful to him for his kindness.

Paul, meanwhile, had gone to Mr. Travers, wondering what he could want with him. The master of the Fifth was a man of about thirty, who led a studious, secluded life. He was a capable master, but had not succeeded in winning the sympathies of the scholars. One of the chief reasons was that, though he took an interest in their studies, he took little interest in their sports. He preferred instead long, solitary rambles.

Paul was, therefore, the more surprised when he found that the object of Mr. Travers in sending for him was to question him as to the relations between him and his cla.s.s-mates.

"I've noticed that you do not appear to be on very good terms with the Form, Percival," he said. "I should not have said anything about it, only I happened to be near the Common Room this afternoon when you entered, and found that that was a signal for the others to march out. I don't like a feeling of that kind in my Form. I know well enough that boys will have their quarrels, and that they can be usually trusted to settle them alone; but this seems to me deeper than an ordinary quarrel, otherwise I should not have spoken. I have no wish to press for your confidence, but if you will tell me what the cause of this ill-feeling is, I might do something to bring about a better understanding between you and the Form."

"Oh, it's only a bit of a dispute between me and Moncrief major."

"And for a dispute between you and Moncrief major all the Form are against you?"

"They take his side, sir. They think that he is right and I'm in the wrong--that is all."

"That is all!" echoed the master. "And that is all the explanation you can give? Remember, I'm not forcing an explanation from you. I'm not asking you as your master, but as your friend."

Paul was drawn to him as he had never been drawn before, such is the power of sympathy. He regretted more than ever that he had sent the letter to Mr. Moncrief; but it was impossible to recall it. Hibbert was on his way with it at that moment to the post.

"That is all the explanation I can give, sir."

"Very well, Percival"--the manner of Mr. Travers changed as the words fell from Paul's lips; he was again the master, and frigid as ice--"then there is nothing more to be said. I regret that I sent for you."

Thus curtly dismissed, Paul went out, feeling miserable. At the time when he so wanted a friend he had lost one. And yet how else could he have acted? There was no other way. He must wait and see what the letter to Mr. Moncrief would bring forth. And with this thought uppermost in his mind he went to the writing-room to await the return of Hibbert.

CHAPTER XIX

THE SCHOOL OF ADVERSITY

Paul took up a pen as he sat and waited, and idly traced words upon the blotting-paper. But his thoughts were far away. He was thinking of the interview he had just had with Mr. Travers. He was still thinking of it when the door opened and Hibbert entered.

"Have you posted the letter?" Paul asked.

"Yes; the postman was just clearing the box when I slipped it in."

Paul would almost as soon that he had not succeeded in posting it--that he had brought the letter back with him. Perhaps it was best as it was, however.

"Thanks, Hibbert."

He did not notice that the boy was looking uncomfortable--as though he had something on his mind but dared not speak it.

"You have seen Mr. Travers?"

"Yes." Then noticing for the first time the nervous, apprehensive look in the boy's eyes, and thinking it was due to the fear that he had got into further trouble with the master, he added: "Nothing happened. He was quite nice with me."

"I'm glad of that."