Biggington was trammelled by no such scruples. “Never fear, young’un,” he said; “if the Doctor should by any chance speak to you on the subject, just refer, him quietly to me; merely say,—Biggington desired me to go; Biggington will explain everything;—and you’ll have no more trouble from the Doctor. Don’t you think so, Stradwick?”
“Oh! certainly,” was the reply: “refer him to Biggington, by all means; say—Biggington desired me to go; Biggington will——”
“That will do,” interrupted Terry, grinning. “Shut up, Slow-coach, we didn’t encore the sentiment; moreover, I can perceive by the expression of our young friend’s optics, that he is awake to a sense of his sitiwation. The play, a jolly good supper, and immortal honour and renown on one hand; and an awful thrashing from Biggington, with a gentle refresher from myself appended, on the other; between such a Scylla and Charybdis he will hardly be inclined to forestall Jack Sprattly by singing, ‘How happy could I be with either.’ So now, young’un, favour us with your sentiments.”
“If I might but tell Percy!” pleaded Hugh, glancing appealingly towards Norman.
That individual shook his head.
“If you do,” he said, “you will have broken the trust reposed in you, and proved yourself a mean-spirited, cowardly child, quite unfit for the service we require of you, or the pleasure with which we propose to reward you;—tell your brother, and you lose the play.”
Poor Hugh! his better nature made one final struggle, but he had dallied with the temptation till it had obtained too firm a hold on his imagination to be shaken off; and so, like many folks older and wiser than himself, who have indulged in a reprehensible longing for some forbidden fruit till the appetite has grown too strong to be resisted, he fell.
“I will promise,” he said. “I do so want to see the play, and you will take care of me if the Doctor is angry, Mr. Biggington?”
“Oh, decidedly; both myself and Stradwick,” was the reply. “Stradwick and the Doctor are hand and glove just now, because Straddy’s such a dab at Euripides.”
This insinuation referred to the uncomfortable fact, that the head-master had that morning informed Stradwick, in consequence of his total inability to construe the works of the ancient Greek in question, that if after another week he did not perceive a very decided improvement, he should be under the disagreeable necessity of degrading him to the fifth form. Stradwick, therefore, hung his head sheepishly as he echoed—