“It is true that I vote Conservative,” pursued Mr. Pembroke, apparently confronting some objector. “But why? Because the Conservatives, rather than the Liberals, stand for progress. One must not be misled by catch-words.”
“Didn’t you want to ask me something?”
“Ah, yes. You found a boy in your form called Varden?”
“Varden? Yes; there is.”
“Drop on him heavily. He has broken the statutes of the school. He is attending as a day-boy. The statutes provide that a boy must reside with his parents or guardians. He does neither. It must be stopped. You must tell the headmaster.”
“Where does the boy live?”
“At a certain Mrs. Orr’s, who has no connection with the school of any kind. It must be stopped. He must either enter a boarding-house or go.”
“But why should I tell?” said Rickie. He remembered the boy, an unattractive person with protruding ears, “It is the business of his house-master.”
“House-master—exactly. Here we come back again. Who is now the day-boys’ house-master? Jackson once again—as if anything was Jackson’s business! I handed the house back last term in a most flourishing condition. It has already gone to rack and ruin for the second time. To return to Varden. I have unearthed a put-up job. Mrs. Jackson and Mrs. Orr are friends. Do you see? It all works round.”
“I see. It does—or might.”