“Well,” said the Doctor, as Mr Hasnip coughed to take my attention, “why are you waiting?”
“For Mercer, sir.”
“But I have not excused him. He is not a new boy; and besides, I am sure you would like him to be punished.”
“No, no!” I said eagerly; “and I don’t want to be let off if he is not.”
“Hum! Hah!” ejaculated the Doctor, looking at me benevolently through his spectacles. “Well—er—er—yes—I like that. Mercer, you are excused too. That will do.”
“Thank you, sir; thank you, sir,” cried Mercer joyfully; and we both bowed and hurried away to the loft, Mr Rebble shaking his head at us as we passed his desk, and Mr Hasnip, as I thought, looking sadly disappointed as far as I could judge, though I could not see his eyes.
On reaching the loft, Mercer was in such a state of exultation that he relieved his feelings by standing upon his head on the corn-bin; but I did not feel so glad, for I had not spoken out, and the Doctor had been acting under a misconception, and I said so.
“Oh, never mind,” cried Mercer, speaking with his heels in the air. “We couldn’t explain, and it don’t matter. Oh, I say, won’t old Eely be pleased that we’ve got off!”
I did not answer, for I still felt that I should like to go and tell the Doctor frankly everything that had passed.