"I do not mind what has been said against me—indeed, I don't!" exclaimed Paul; "we've all made mistakes; so please don't go so far with Parfitt. Don't expel him. Give him another chance!"
Parfitt could scarcely believe his ears. The boy whom he had sought to expel was taking his part—pleading that he might remain.
"It is generous of you to plead for him, but after what has happened, how is it possible for him to remain?" said the master.
Paul scarcely knew how to answer; but as he stood nonplussed a mist rose in the room, and as the mist cleared he saw a garden, with a delicate-faced boy, lying in an invalid chair, as though asleep. A little wren had perched itself upon his shoulder.
"Let him stay for—for Hibbert's sake," came in a gulp.
The master turned his head for a moment. When he once more faced the boys, the hard light had vanished from the blinking eyes, and a softer light shone there.
"What has happened has not gone beyond this room. The facts, so far, have not been disclosed to the whole school," he said. "It may not, perhaps, be necessary. I will see what can be done in consultation with my colleagues. I trust it may be possible for us to respond to Percival's generous appeal. Attention! Half-turn! March!"
And the boys filed slowly from the class-room.
Vacation at last!