"You are the counsel for the defence, I perceive, Miss Woodford, but I'm afraid you have no case; perhaps you don't understand my son—my son in blind passion has struck a schoolfellow with a cricket stump and injured him, apparently without provocation, as far as the Headmaster has been able to ascertain."
"And do you believe that, Mr. Medhurst—believe it of your son? You don't know Bob fully yet. Your son could never behave like that; to him, a schoolboy, it would not be cricket, would it?"
"That's the gist of the matter, perhaps," he answered; "he is my son, and I expect a decent spirit from him."
"Then let him explain the circumstances, Mr. Medhurst; don't punish him until you have heard everything—it is only justice."
"Quite true. Can you deny these facts?" asked Mr. Medhurst, tapping the Headmaster's statement, and now addressing Bob, who, at Margaret's intervention, had paused near the door.
"It's true—but—but I was provoked, sir."
"So I suppose; but to what extent?"
"I would rather not say," answered the boy.
"There you are, Miss Woodford, I have followed your advice," said Mr. Medhurst, with a short sarcastic laugh. "You see, the boy has no excuse worthy of consideration; he's ashamed to bring it forward."
"Yes—I am—that's true," broke in Bob. "Don't bother, Miss Woodford; I know I can't escape."