"In sending you with that letter, Percival knew well enough he was acting against the rules of the school."
"I—I—dare say it slipped his memory, sir."
"Nothing of the sort. He knew well enough he was breaking the rules of the school, and, worse still, that he was making you an accomplice in the act. However, I do not intend to deal severely with the case, for your sake. You are quite new to the ways and rules of this place. Take the letter. Post it; but don't say a word to Percival that I stopped you. Do you understand?"
"Yes; I understand," said the boy, as he took the letter, and ran off with it to the post. He looked at the letter as he ran. Was it the same? Yes, the very same—the same address, in Paul's handwriting. It was very kind of Mr. Weevil, and he would always be grateful to him for his kindness.
Paul, meanwhile, had gone to Mr. Travers, wondering what he could want with him. The master of the Fifth was a man of about thirty, who led a studious, secluded life. He was a capable master, but had not succeeded in winning the sympathies of the scholars. One of the chief reasons was that, though he took an interest in their studies, he took little interest in their sports. He preferred instead long, solitary rambles. Paul was, therefore, the more surprised when he found that the object of Mr. Travers in sending for him was to question him as to the relations between him and his class-mates.
"I've noticed that you do not appear to be on very good terms with the Form, Percival," he said. "I should not have said anything about it, only I happened to be near the Common Room this afternoon when you entered, and found that that was a signal for the others to march out. I don't like a feeling of that kind in my Form. I know well enough that boys will have their quarrels, and that they can be usually trusted to settle them alone; but this seems to me deeper than an ordinary quarrel, otherwise I should not have spoken. I have no wish to press for your confidence, but if you will tell me what the cause of this ill-feeling is, I might do something to bring about a better understanding between you and the Form."
"Oh, it's only a bit of a dispute between me and Moncrief major."
"And for a dispute between you and Moncrief major all the Form are against you?"
"They take his side, sir. They think that he is right and I'm in the wrong—that is all."
"That is all!" echoed the master. "And that is all the explanation you can give? Remember, I'm not forcing an explanation from you. I'm not asking you as your master, but as your friend."