But no! And so they carried Henry to bed.
At six the martyr uneasily dozed.
'He may sleep a couple of hours,' Aunt Annie whispered.
Not one of the three had honestly and openly withdrawn from the position that Henry would be able to go to the prize-giving. They seemed to have silently agreed to bury the futile mendacity of the earlier afternoon in everlasting forgetfulness.
'Poor little thing!' observed Mrs. Knight.
His sufferings had reduced him, in her vision, to about half his ordinary size.
At seven Mr. Knight put on his hat.
'Are you going out, father?' his wife asked, shocked.
'It is only fair,' said Mr. Knight, 'to warn the school people that Henry will not be able to be present to-night. They will have to alter their programme. Of course I shan't stay.'