"Next year! Of course there should be no doubt about that at all. But I should like to see him get in this. It will make a big difference to his last term if he knows he's safe for his place. It's always a little worrying having to play for one's colours, and I should like him to have a really good last term. He's deserved it; he's worked hard; he's been a real success at Fernhurst."
His soliloquy was at this point interrupted by the double knock of the postman. Mr Whately jumped up at once.
"The Fernhurst postmark, my dear," he said. "I wonder what this can be about. The headmaster's writing!"
He tore open the envelope eagerly and began to read.
"Well, dear?" said his wife.
He said nothing, but handed the letter across to her. She read it through and then sat forward in her chair, her hands lying on her knees.
"Poor darling," she said. "So that's why he saw so little of April last holidays."
"Yes, I suppose that's the reason."
"Do you think he was in love with her?"
"With April?"