“Well, then, Tracy, we’ll shake hands on that resolve, and bygones shall be bygones,” said Henderson. “You’ll forgive my making fun of you this morning.”
He shook hands with Henderson and with Walter, while Power, holding out his hand, said, smiling, “It’s never too late to mend.”
“No,” said Tracy, looking at one of his boots, which he had a habit of putting out before the other.
“He applied your remark to his boots, Power,” said Henderson, laughing. “Did you observe how the hole in one of them distressed him.”
So the monitors separated, not without hopes that things were beginning to look a little brighter than before.
Chapter Thirty Five.
The Final Fracas.
Harpour, and all who, like him, had long been endeavouring to undermine the authority which was the only safeguard to the morality of the school, felt themselves distinctly baffled. Mackworth had been put to utter rout by Bliss, and though he was almost bursting with dark spite, would not venture to do much; Jones had become a perfect joke through the whole school, and was constantly having white hen’s feathers and goose-feathers enclosed to him in little envelopes until he was half mad with impotent wrath; Harpour himself had been made very decidedly to swallow the leek of public humiliation; and as for Wilton, he began to feel rather small.