“James tells me that you attacked him savagely this afternoon when he was having a little sport with two of his schoolfellows.”
“Is that what he says, Mr. Smith?”
“Yes, sir, and I require an explanation.”
“You shall have it. The sport in which your nephew was engaged was attempting to thrash Wilkins. He had him down, and was about to deal him a savage kick when I fortunately came up.”
“And joined in the fight,” sneered Socrates.
“Yes, if you choose to put it so. Would you have had me stand by, and see Wilkins brutally used?”
“Of course, you color the affair to suit yourself,” said Socrates, coldly. “The fact is that you, an usher, have lowered yourself by taking part in a playful schoolboy contest.”
“Playful!” repeated Mr. Crabb.
“Yes, and I shall show how I regard it by giving you notice that I no longer require your services in my school. I shall pay you up at the end of the week and then discharge you.”
“Mr. Smith,” said the usher, “permit me to say that anything more disgraceful than your own conduct within the last twenty-four hours I have never witnessed. You have joined your nephew in a plot to disgrace an innocent boy, declining to do justice, and now you have capped the climax by censuring me for stopping an act of brutality, merely because your nephew was implicated in it!”