“Mr Nicholson has said everything you could say over and over again. There is no scope left for argument at all. I understand that you refuse to obey me. If so, you leave the election of a captain entirely in my hands. You refuse to elect your own?”
Once again there was silence. And this time the silence was significant.
After Toby’s experience they had not expected a fair hearing; the belief that Dr Roe was going to fight them was now a certainty.
The Head turned and moved suddenly towards the window. His curiosity as to what was really happening outside would no longer be denied. He reached the curtain with outstretched hand and tugged it aside.
And then in the gathering dusk of late evening he saw what he had to combat. This little upheaval of school life had once seemed to him merely a mole-hill. But he had spoken truly: they had made of it a mountain. As far as the eye could reach there stretched a sea of faces showing above the clear white of schoolboys’ collars, very silent and very still, waiting as if for a signal from within. He stared out upon the scene for thirty seconds and at last he turned. Even in this wide room the silence was tense. Not one of the deputation seemed to be really drawing breath. The new Head faced them sternly, his grim visage more than ever like the face of a bloodhound, his spectacles set firmly upon the broad bridge of his nose.
“What does that mean?” he said at last. “Why are all those boys out there? What do they want?”
Terence stepped forward boldly. There was the joy of battle in his eyes. “They want Rouse, sir,” said he. “Every mother’s son amongst them—and they are waiting for your answer.”
The Head’s eyes hardened till they shone like steel.
“Very well,” said he. “Then you may make it known at once.” He paused and looked at each boy in turn, and at last he told them in slow emphatic words how he had planned his answer.