“There’s rather bad news,” said Toby at last. “I’m afraid you’ll be very sorry.”
They looked at him inquiringly.
“The Grey Man has been very ill,” said he, puffing slowly at his pipe, “and he’s not coming back. We’ve got a new Head.”
The boy who had sat in the corner was standing hesitantly behind them, and he was amazed to find Rouse struck dumb. For Rouse just stood and looked first at Toby and then at Terence, and it was a long time before he spoke.
Terence asked quietly: “Who’s coming instead of him then?”
And Toby answered: “He’s a man called Roe. That’s all I can tell you.”
And then the pair of them seemed to consider the news with a fresh gravity, until at last Rouse shook his head sadly and said:
“I loved that man, you know.”
Coming from one who throughout the journey had seemed to be merely a rather superior sort of clown, this statement took Bobbie Carr by surprise. He stood there beside his bag, watching with wide eyes, waiting for more. But little more came. Rouse was a young man who could never make up his mind to grow up, and with the Grey Man he had never had to don any hypocritical cloak of stiff severity just because he was becoming one of the oldest boys at Harley, and he had got along very well indeed. Perhaps it was going to be different now. He picked up his bag and moved slowly away beside Terence, whilst Toby watched them go slowly and sadly along the platform towards the barrier, and as Bobbie followed after them he saw Rouse shake his head solemnly and heard him say:
“It’s a bad business. A bad business. Except for Toby, he was about the only master who’ll ever understand me, Terence, my lad.”