Never had the doctor felt more perplexed. If Ronald was innocent, who then was the guilty one? Once more, he publicly appealed to the boys, telling them that the sentence could be no longer put off—the next day he must decide, and implored them, as in God's sight, not to let punishment fall on the innocent.
As he spoke, a short, stifled sob was heard, which most of those who noticed it thought came from Ronald's breast. But Dudley's sharp ears had caught the sound, and knew the sob was not Ronald's: quietly he noticed that it came from a little boy, George Dundas, and as he was known to be the friend of Pritchard, the only boy in the school who bore malice to Macintosh. Dudley knew that sob was from no grief at Ronald's disgrace; and a hope sprung up in the noble boy's heart that he had a clue to the real offender.
After lessons, he sought out Dundas, and, without asking him any questions, spoke of Ronald, how good, and kind, and loving he was; reminding Dundas how he had got him not long before out of a scrape; and then concluded by saying that Ronald, like George himself, was an orphan, with no father and mother to care for him.
"And, maybe," said the boy, "his uncle will be so angry, he will turn him to the door, and poor Ronald will become a wanderer on the face of the earth."
George listened in silence, not condescending to answer one word; but some hours after, he sought the master's study. Once inside it, he broke down, sobbing like a child.
"Dr. Bowles," he said, "I have come to say, I wish to go home—to leave school—I can't be good here. I'm turning worse and worse every day; and my mother, on her death-bed, made me promise that I'd try to be an honourable, truthful boy, and I can't be that here. Please, sir, don't ask me why; but write to my guardian, and ask that I may go home."
Poor George! He, too, like Ronald, was an orphan boy; but, unlike him, he had never sought a strength beyond his own to hold him up; and since coming to Dr. Bowles's, he had got so entirely under the influence of Pritchard, that almost unconsciously he had entered on a downward course.
Dr. Bowles was much amazed. "Why, George," he said, "what is wrong? Why can you not be truthful and honourable here? It is my great desire to render so all the boys under my care."
Then, as if a sudden thought had come into his mind, he said quickly, "Has the story of the fishing anything to do with your distress? George, do you know who is the real culprit?"
No words came; no reply to the question; only loud sobs, as if the boy's heart was breaking.