“Now, Burney,” cried the Doctor, “speak out. Who began this?”
The boy addressed glanced at the Doctor and then at Slegge, while his lips parted; but he uttered no sound.
“Do you hear me, sir?” roared the Doctor.
“Big Tom Slegge, sir,” came from the shrill little fellow who had before spoken.
The Doctor frowningly held up one big white finger at the little speaker, who shrank back amongst his fellows.
“I saw that look of yours, Burney,” said the Doctor sternly, “and I read its meaning, sir. It seemed to appeal to your older schoolfellow, one of the principals in this disgraceful encounter, asking him if you might speak out. I’ll answer for him. Yes, sir; and beware lest you, as a gentleman’s son, lower your position in my eyes by making any suppression. What was the cause of the quarrel?”
Burney’s face was working, for after the excitement of the fight and its sudden ending he felt hysterically emotional, and in a broken voice the truth came pouring forth.
“I can’t help it, sir, and if he bullies me afterwards for speaking I must tell all. Slegge’s been jealous of both the new boys ever since they came. He’s been as disagreeable and spiteful as could be, and forced us all to take his side.”
“Yes, yes; go on,” cried the Doctor, for the boy stopped with a gasp; but he spoke more calmly afterwards. “He’s been working it up, sir, for a fight for days, out of jealousy because he thought more was made of Singh and Severn than of him.”
“Indeed!” said the Doctor, nodding his head.