“We shall see about that,” answered Kenrick in a confident tone. “At any rate, the vote is carried.” He left the chair, and the boys broke up into various groups, still eagerly discussing the rights and wrongs of the question which had been stirred.
“So, Power,” said Kenrick, with a sneer, which he assumed to hide his real feelings, “all your fine eloquence is thrown away, you see. We’ve carried the day after all, in spite of you.”
“Yes, Ken,” said Power, gently; “you’ve carried it quocunque modo. How comes Kenrick to be on the same side as Jones, Mackworth, and Harpour?”
Chapter Twenty Seven.
The Monitors.
In the teeth of clenched antagonisms.
Tennyson.
The meeting over, Henderson, who had not seen Walter since the morning, flew up to the sickroom to tell him the news, which he was sure would specially interest him. As he entered, the same spectacle was before him which Power had already seen—little Eden restless, and sometimes wandering—Walter seated silently by the bed watching him, his legs crossed, and his hands clasped over one knee. The curtains were drawn to exclude the glare. Walter could read but little, for his eyes were weak after the fight; but his thoughts and his nursing of his little friend kept him occupied. Henderson, fresh from the excitement of the meeting, was struck with the deep contrast presented by this painfully quiet scene.
He was advancing eagerly, but Walter rose with his finger on his lip, and spoke to him in a whisper, for Eden had just dropped off to sleep.