Shaking hands with Lady Augusta Yorke as she turned out of Mr. Galloway’s office, was Mr. Huntley. He had only just arrived at Helstonleigh; had not yet been home; but he explained that he wished to give at once a word of pleasant news to Constance Channing of her father and mother, and, on his way to the Boundaries, was calling on Mr. Galloway.

“You will find Miss Channing at my house,” said Lady Augusta, after some warm inquiries touching Mr. and Mrs. Channing. “I would offer to go back there with you, but I am on my way to make some calls.” She turned towards the town as she spoke, and Mr. Huntley entered the office.

“I thought you were never coming home again!” cried free Roland. “Why, you have been away three months, Mr. Huntley!”

“Very nearly. Where is Mr. Galloway?”

“In his skin,” said Roland.

Jenkins looked up deprecatingly, as if he would apologize for the rudeness of Roland Yorke. “Mr. Galloway is out, sir. I dare say he will not be away more than half an hour.”

“I cannot wait now,” said Mr. Huntley. “So you are one less in this office than you were when I left?”

“The awfullest shame!” struck in Roland. “Have you heard that Galloway lost a bank-note out of a letter, sir?”

“Yes. I have heard of it from Mr. Channing.”

“And they accused Arthur Channing of taking it!” exclaimed Roland. “They took him up for it; he was had up twice to the town-hall, like any felon. You may be slow to believe it, Mr. Huntley, but it’s true.”

“It was Butterby, sir,” interposed Jenkins. “He was rather too officious over it, and acted without Mr. Galloway’s orders.”

“Don’t talk rubbish, Jenkins,” rebuked Roland. “You have defended Galloway all through the piece, but he is as much to blame as Butterby. Why did he turn off Channing?”

“You do not think him guilty, Roland, I see,” said Mr. Huntley.

“I should hope I don’t,” answered Roland. “Butterby pitched upon Arthur, because there happened to be nobody else at hand to pitch upon; just as he’d have pitched upon you, Mr. Huntley, had you happened to be in the office that afternoon.”

“Mr. Arthur Channing was not guilty, I am sure, sir; pray do not think him so,” resumed Jenkins, his eye lighting as he turned to Mr. Huntley. And Mr. Huntley smiled in response to the earnestness. He believe Arthur Channing guilty!

He left a message for Mr. Galloway, and quitted the office. Roland, who was very difficult to settle to work again, if once disturbed from it, strided himself across his stool, and tilted it backwards.

“I’m uncommonly glad Carrick’s coming!” cried he. “Do you remember him, Jenkins?”

“Who, sir?”

“That uncle of mine. He was at Helstonleigh three years ago.”

“I am not sure that I do, sir.”

“What a sieve of a memory you must have! He is as tall as a house. We are not bad fellows for height, but Carrick beats us. He is not married, you know, and we look to him to square up many a corner. To do him justice, he never says No, when he has the cash, but he’s often out at elbows himself. It was he who bought George his commission and fitted him out; and I know my lady looks to him to find the funds Gerald will want to make him into a parson. I wonder what he’ll do for me?”

Jenkins was about to answer, but was stopped by his cough. For some minutes it completely exhausted him; and Roland, for want of a hearer, was fain to bring the legs of his stool down again, and apply himself lazily to his work.

At this very moment, which was not much past two o’clock in the day, Bywater had Charley Channing pinned against the palings underneath the elm trees. He had him all to himself. No other boys were within hearing; though many were within sight; for they were assembling in and round the cloisters after their dinner.

“Now, Miss Charley, it’s the last time I’ll ask you, as true as that we are living here! You are as obstinate as a young mule. I’ll give you this one chance, and I’ll not give you another. I’d advise you to take it, if you have any regard for your skin.”

“I don’t know anything, Bywater.”

“You shuffling little turncoat! I don’t know that there’s any fire in that kitchen chimney of the old dean’s, but I am morally certain that there is, because clouds of black smoke are coming out of it. And you know just as well who it was that played the trick to my surplice. I don’t ask you to blurt it out to the school, and I won’t bring your name up in it at all; I won’t act upon what you tell me. There!”

“Bywater, I don’t know; and suspicion goes for nothing. Gaunt said it did not.”

Bywater gave Charley a petulant shake. “I say that you know morally, Miss Channing. I protest that I heard you mention the word ‘surplice’ to Gerald Yorke, the day there was that row in the cloisters, when Roland Yorke gave Tod a thrashing and I tore the seat out of my pants. Gerald Yorke looked ready to kill you for it, too! Come, out with it. This is about the sixth time I have had you in trap, and you have only defied me.”

“I don’t defy you, Bywater. I say that I will not tell. I would not if I knew. It is no business of mine.”

“You little ninny! Don’t you see that your obstinacy is injuring Tom Channing? Yorke is going in for the seniorship; is sure to get it—if it’s true that Pye has given the promise to Lady Augusta. But, let it come out that he was the Jack-in-the-box, and his chance falls to the ground. And you won’t say a word to do good to your brother!”

Charley shook his head. He did not take the bait. “And Tom himself would be the first to punish me for doing wrong! He never forgives a sneak. It’s of no use your keeping me, Bywater.”

“Listen, youngster. I have my suspicions; I have had them all along; and I have a clue—that’s more. But, for a certain reason, I think my suspicions and my clue point to the wrong party; and I don’t care to stir in it till I am sure. One—two—three! for the last time. Will you tell me?”

“No.”

“Then, look you, Miss Charley Channing. If I do go and denounce the wrong party, and find out afterwards that it is the wrong one, I’ll give you as sweet a drubbing as you ever had, and your girl’s face shan’t save you. Now go.”

He propelled Charley from him with a jerk, and propelled him against Mr. Huntley, who was at that moment turning the corner close to them, on his way from Mr. Galloway’s office.

“You can’t go through me, Charley,” said Mr. Huntley. “Did you think I was made of glass, Bywater?”

“My patience!” exclaimed Bywater. “Why, Harry was grumbling, not five minutes ago, that you were never coming home at all, Mr. Huntley.”

“He was, was he? Is he here?”

“Oh, he’s somewhere amongst the ruck of them,” cried Bywater, looking towards the distant boys. “He wants you to see about this bother of the seniorship. If somebody doesn’t, we shall get up a mutiny, that’s all. Here, Huntley,” he shouted at the top of his voice, “here’s an arrival from foreign parts!”

Some of the nearer boys looked round, and the word was passed to Huntley. Harry Huntley and the rest soon surrounded him, and Mr. Huntley had no reason to complain of the warmth of his reception. When news had recently arrived that Mr. Huntley was coming home, the boys had taken up the hope of his interference. Of course, schoolboy-like, they all entered upon it eagerly.

“Stop, stop, stop!” said Mr. Huntley. “One at a time. How can I hear, if you all talk together? Now, what’s the grievance?”

They detailed it as rationally and with as little noise as it was in their nature to do. Huntley was the only senior present, but Gaunt came up during the conference.

“It’s all a cram, Mr. Huntley,” cried Tod Yorke. “My brother Gerald says that Jenkins dreamt it.”

“I’ll ‘dream’ you, if you don’t keep your tongue silent, Tod Yorke,” reprimanded Gaunt. “Take yourself off to a distance, Mr. Huntley,” he added, turning to that gentleman, “it is certain that Lady Augusta said it; and we can’t think she’d say it, unless Pye promised it. It is unfair upon Channing and Huntley.”

A few more words given to the throng, upon general matters—for Mr. Huntley touched no more on the other topic—and then he continued his way to Lady Augusta’s. As he passed the house of the Reverend Mr. Pye, that gentleman was coming out of it. Mr. Huntley, a decisive, straightforward man, entered upon the matter at once, after some moments spent in greeting.

“You will pardon my speaking of it to you personally,” he said, when he had introduced the subject, “In most cases I consider it perfectly unjustifiable for the friends of boys in a public school to interfere with the executive of its master; but this affair is different. Is it, or is it not correct, that there is an intention afloat to exalt Yorke to the seniorship?”

“Mr. Huntley, you must be aware that in no case can the head-master of a public school allow himself to be interfered with, or questioned,” was the reply of the master.

“I hope you will meet this amicably,” returned Mr. Huntley.

“I have no other wish than to be friendly; quite so. We all deem ourselves under obligations to you, Mr. Pye, and esteem you highly; we could not have, or wish, a better preceptor for our sons. But in this instance, my duty is plain. The injustice—if any such injustice is contemplated—tells particularly upon Tom Channing and my son. Mr. Channing does not give ear to it; I would rather not; nevertheless, you must pardon me for acting, in the uncertainty, as though it had foundation. I presume you cannot be ignorant of the dissatisfied feeling that reigns in the school?”

“I have intimated that I will not be questioned,” said Mr. Pye.

“Quite right. I merely wished to express a hope that there may be no foundation for the rumour. If Tom Channing and Harry forfeit their rights legally, through want of merit, or ill conduct, it is not I that would urge a word in their favour. Fair play’s a jewel: and the highest boy in the school should have no better chance given him than the lowest. But if the two senior boys do not so forfeit their rights............