It was their dear old master, Mr. Henry—for dear in truth he had become to them. A little worn, shadowy, looking taller than he used; but with the same kind and gentle face, the same loving gaze from the luminous eyes. Sir Simon stood behind.
"I thought I would try and get as far once more; and my good friend, Sir Simon, helped me with his arm," said Mr. Henry, speaking so very quietly that a sudden hush seemed to fall upon the room. "But I did not expect to find you thus."
As if in excuse, and perhaps a little ashamed of the turmoil, a score of voices avowed the cause. Lamb stood to his creed; and Sir Simon's ears were regaled with Raymond Trace's private misdoings in the past. Perhaps it did not much surprise him.
"It does not excuse Lamb," said Gall, his eyes flashing indignation on the latter, who stood cowering behind.
"It was Lamb who told about the smoking that time," called out Leek with indignation.
"He's a wretched coward." And the boys began to hiss again.
"Forgive him for my sake," said Mr. Henry, throwing oil on the troubled waters. "Next term he will do better perhaps; he will have learnt a lesson."
"He'd better not come back! he'd better not show his face here again!" growled the boys.
"I'm not coming back," retorted Lamb.
"But to think that Trace——"