Toby drew a deep breath.
“I think you will understand better, sir,” said he, “if you will listen to me for a moment. The boy that you think was being terrorised had been laughing as loudly as any boy possibly could throughout the first half, whilst other boys with a better spirit were learning to play.”
“Well,” said the Head crossly, “considering he was crying only this morning, why shouldn’t he laugh? I am very glad to know that his talk with me had so reassured him.”
“It is a bad thing,” said Toby, “for boys who are learning a game to be laughed at from the touch-line by those who don’t care to try it themselves. Rugby football is compulsory at this school, and that fact has a very excellent effect. It was I who told him to come on and play. There was no bullying.”
“My dear Nicholson,” said Dr Roe, “I have been a schoolmaster longer probably than you have been alive. Do you really think that I do not know a bully when I see one?”
Toby endeavoured to retain his calm.
“It is possible to be mistaken.”
“I am not mistaken,” snapped the other.
“But you see, sir,” insisted Toby, “you haven’t even spoken to Rouse.”
“Because,” said Dr Roe, “I wish to learn all I possibly can about him before I do. I have spoken to the other lad, and I am satisfied that he is telling the truth. I have seen this fellow Rouse making himself a clown at a football match, and I have learnt from you that, although he has been five years at the school, he is not yet in the Sixth Form. It is clear that you have a good opinion of him yourself, but you are, after all, a young man, Nicholson.”