"We found out what was going to happen in our Form; and so I went with the rest to see you—to see you——"
Again the boy hesitated.
"To see me turn tail and run. Out with it. Don't be afraid of hurting my feelings," cried Paul bitterly. "The other fellows won't. You'll hear what they'll be calling me presently—quite a choice collection of names—cur, pariah, coward, and the rest of it."
"No, not coward. I know you couldn't be," said the boy confidently. "Any one can see that by looking in your face. I know you had some reason for going away. It's that made you so wretched. I knew you would be, and so—and so after waiting a little time to see what would happen, I followed after you."
Paul was touched at Hibbert's devotion. In that one moment the boy had repaid a hundredfold the little act of kindness he had shown him when he first entered the school. He had come to Paul in his loneliness, and had brought a ray of sunshine into the gloom that had suddenly sprung up around him.
"Do you know, Hibbert, you're a very good little chap to speak of me as you do, and to think of me as you do? I'm a long way off deserving it, I can tell you. You waited after I left the sand-pit, you say, to see what would happen? What did happen? They kept up the groans for me till they were tired, I suppose?"
"Don't speak of it," said the boy, shivering.
"You needn't be afraid of giving me pain, I tell you. I'm getting pretty tough. After they'd done hooting me——"
"While they were still hooting you, Moncrief threw off his jacket, and leapt into your place."
"What!" cried Paul, starting to his feet, and staring at the boy. "Leapt into my place?"