“You did say it,” retorted Mr. Ketch.
“I know I did. But I did not suppose you were going to repeat it again.”
“If it was a secret, why didn’t you say so?” asked Mr. Ketch.
“It was not exactly a secret, or Lady Augusta would not have mentioned it before me,” remonstrated Joe. “But it is not the proper thing, for me to come out of Mr. Galloway’s office, and talk of anything I may have heard said in it by his friends, and then for it to get round to his ears again! Put it to yourself, Mr. Ketch, and say whether you would like it.”
“What did you talk of it for, then?” snarled Ketch, preparing to take a copious draught of ale.
“Because I thought you and father were safe. You might both have known better than to speak of it out of doors. There is sure to be a commotion over it.”
“Miserable beer! Brewed out of ditch-water!”
“Young Mr. Huntley came to me to-day, to know the rights and the wrongs of it—as he said,” continued Joseph. “He spoke to Mr. Galloway about it afterwards—though I must say he was kind enough not to bring in my name; only said, in a general way, that he had ‘heard’ it. He is an honourable young gentleman, is that Huntley. He vows the report shall be conveyed to the dean.”
“Serve ‘em right!” snapped the porter. “If the dean does his duty, he’ll order a general flogging for the school, all round. It’ll do ‘em good.”
“Galloway did not say much—except that he knew what he should do, were he Huntley’s or Channing’s father. Which I took to mean that, in his opinion, there ought to be an inquiry instituted.”