"I'll see into this," mentally spoke Mr. St. John.
CHAPTER VI.
PEACHING TO THE DEAN.
Mr. St. John went at once to Peter Arkell's. Henry was alone, lying on his bed.
"After such a fall as that, how could you be so imprudent as to come back and take the anthem?" was his unceremonious salutation.
"I felt equal to it," replied Henry. "The one, originally put up, could not be done."
"Then they should have put up a third, for me. The cathedral does not lack anthems, I hope. Show me where your head was struck."
Henry put his hand to his ear, then higher up, then to his temple. "It was somewhere here—all about here—I cannot tell the exact spot."
As he spoke, a tribe of college boys was heard to clatter in at the gate. Henry would have risen, but Mr. St. John laid his arm across him.