There was a yell of rage and disappointment from the defrauded ones, who had cherished a lingering hope that young Bultitude had those rabbits somewhere, but (like Mr. Barkis and his wooden lemon) found himself unable to part with them when the time came to fulfil his contract. And as contempt is a frame of mind highly stimulating to one's self-esteem, even those who had no personal interest in the matter joined in the execrations with hearty goodwill and sympathy.
"Why did you let him do it? They were ours, not his. What right had your governor to go and drown our rabbits, eh?" they cried wrathfully.
"What right?" said Paul. "Mustn't a man do as he pleases in his own house, then? I—he was not obliged to see the house overrun with vermin, I suppose?"
But this only made them angrier, and they resented his defence with hoots, and groans, and hisses.
Mr. Blinkhorn meanwhile was pondering the affair conscientiously. At last he said, "But you know the Doctor would never allow animals to be kept in the school, if Bultitude had brought them. The whole thing is against the rules, and I shall not interfere."
"Ah, but," said Chawner, "he promised them all to day-boarders. The Doctor couldn't object to that, could he, sir?"
"True," said Mr. Blinkhorn, "true. I was not aware of that. Well then, Bultitude, since you are prevented from performing what you promised to do, I'm sure you won't object to do what is fair and right in the matter?"
"I don't think I quite follow you," said Mr. Bultitude. But he dreaded what was coming next.
"It's very simple. You have taken money from these boys, and if you can't give them value for it, you ought to return all you took from them. I'm sure you see that yourself."
"I don't admit that I owe them anything," said Paul; "and at all events it is highly inconvenient to pay them now."