Noel's face was very pale, but he had a set, determined look about the mouth. He was going to decide as he believed to be right and just—that was clear.
The head-master bustled up, panting, having "scorched" up from the starting-mark.
"Well, Brocklehurst?" he said; "well?"
"Bradbury, sir, by two inches," said poor Noel; and, having dashed the cup of happiness from Granby's and his own lips, he turned and marched away to his study and shut himself up, quite tragically miserable. Perhaps he even shed a tear of mortification. He was only thirteen, be it remembered, and the decision against his brother had been a very hard and somewhat heroic thing.
Granby arrived presently, and entered the study, taking no notice of Noel. He was evidently very angry, for he banged the books about, and scattered a packet of chocolate—Noel's—all over the floor.
Noel was nervous as to how Granby would take his decision. Perhaps he would not understand how more than ordinarily important it had been that he should be absolutely impartial, or even inclined, if anything, to favour the opponent.
"Granby, I'm awfully sorry, old man," he began, "that you didn't win. I'd give a good deal—"
"You're a liar! I did win! Everybody says so but you," said Granby, interrupting him furiously.
"Well, I watched both posts, and I did my best to give a fair decision," said Noel, shocked at his brother's violence.
"You have swindled me in Bradbury's favour," Granby began.