“Oh,” said Morris, recovering himself. “Young Burton told me he was here in his room.”
“He was coming, sir; but I came for him,” cried Glyn, into whose brain now flashed a memory of a late conversation and dispute with his companion.
“I suppose you know,” said Morris coldly, “that one of the Doctor’s rules is that the pupils should only retire to their dormitories at certain times.”
“Yes, sir, but—”
“That will do,” said Morris, turning to go; and his cold, stern manner stung the boy, whose mind was now flooded with the recollection of all that Singh had told him, and a feeling of resentment sprang up within his breast.
“I shouldn’t have come, sir, if Singh had not asked me.”
“That will do, sir,” said Morris, affecting the Doctor’s sternest manner. “You know you have no business to be here, and I shall feel it my duty to report the matter to the Principal.”
Glyn was silent for a few moments, and then he started, for he saw that Morris was evidently waiting for him to leave the room; so, going down on one knee quickly, he locked up the trunk, with a feeling of resentment growing stronger within him, and as he rose and faced the master again his mind was made up. His father had told him more than once that he looked to him to use his common-sense and do the best he could in any emergency on behalf of Singh, and for the moment, as he stood facing Morris, he asked himself whether he ought not to write to his father. The next moment he was speaking. “I beg your pardon, sir.”
“That will do, Mr Severn,” said Morris coldly. “I am not in the humour to hear any excuses.”
“I was not going to make excuses, sir,” said the lad, “but to say a word or two about Singh, who is to me as a brother.”