But having finished his letter, there was one great difficulty in the way. All letters written in the school were supposed to pass, first of all, through the hands of the master. How could he let that letter pass through the hands of Mr. Weevil? As he was thinking over this dilemma, Hibbert entered the room, and told him that Mr. Travers wished to speak to him. Mr. Travers was master of the Fifth.
Paul rose to his feet, and thrust the letter in his pocket, wondering what Mr. Travers could want with him. Then it occurred to him that Hibbert was just the boy he wanted; he could trust Hibbert with anything. Hibbert would post the letter for him.
"Hibbert, I want you to do me a great favour," he said, drawing the letter from his pocket. "I want you to post this letter for me. There's nothing wrong in it, I give you my word of honour; but, I don't want Mr. Weevil to know. That's why I am not sending it through the school post."
Hibbert expressed his willingness to post it, and Paul handed him the letter, then went to Mr. Travers' room. Hibbert hastened off with the letter, but, as ill-luck would have it, he ran full tilt against Mr. Weevil, just as he reached the outer door. In doing so, he stumbled, and would have fallen to the ground had not the master caught him by the arm.
"As ill-luck would have it, Hibbert ran full tilt against Mr. Weevil, just as he reached the outer door."
"Hallo! Where are you running to in such a hurry?" he asked, in that gentle voice he always used to Hibbert—softer than that used by him to any other boy in the school.