"Who then? Tell me at once," persisted Seabrooke, just as Mrs. Moffat returned with the coffee, to find her young patient flushed and distressed, with Seabrooke standing over him in rather a threatening manner.
"I won't," repeated Charlie, "but it wasn't Percy."
"Hi! what's the matter? what is this?" demanded Mrs. Moffat. "If Master Henderson's been breaking any rules, you'll please not nag him about it now, Mr. Seabrooke. You'll have him all worried into another headache, and he is not fairly over this one yet, and he'll not be fit for his journey home."
Seabrooke paid no more attention to her than if she had not spoken.
"Do you hear me, Henderson?" he asked. "I will know."
"I won't—" began Charlie again; but Mrs. Moffat interposed once more.
"Mr. Seabrooke," she said, actually pushing herself between the two boys, the tray with the coffee in her hand, "Mr. Seabrooke, Master Henderson is under my care so long as he is in here, and I will not have him worried in this way. Let him alone if you please."
Seabrooke was blind and deaf to all her interference.
"I will know," he repeated. "I will bring the doctor here if you do not tell. Who was it?"
Charlie's eyes turned involuntarily towards the corner of the room occupied by Lewis Flagg's bed and other belongings, and Seabrooke caught the look. Quick-sighted and quick-witted, he drew his own inferences and attacked the boy from another quarter.