Half-past ten struck, and Lady Augusta started up to fly to her own room. She had still much to do, ere she could be presentable for college. Caroline followed. Fanny wondered what Gerald and Tod would do. Not yet down!
“Those boys will get a tanning, to-morrow, from old Pye!” exclaimed Roland, remembering the time when “tannings” had been his portion for the same fault. “Go and see what they are after, Martha.”
They were “after” jumping up in alarm, aroused by the college bell. Amidst wild confusion, for nothing seemed to be at hand, with harsh reproaches to Martha, touching their shirts and socks, and other articles of attire, they scrambled downstairs, somehow, and flew out of the house on their way to the college schoolroom; Gerald drinking a freshly made scalding cup of coffee; Tod cramming a thick piece of bread and butter into his pocket, and trusting to some spare moment to eat it in. All this was the usual scramble of Sunday morning. The Yorkes did get to college, somehow, and there was an end of it.
After the conclusion of the service, as the congregation were dispersing, Mr. Galloway came up to Arthur Channing in the cloisters, and drew him aside.
“Do you recollect taking the letters to the post, on Friday afternoon?” he inquired.
“On Friday?” mused Arthur, who could not at the moment recollect much about that particular day’s letters; it was he who generally posted them for the office. “Oh yes, I do remember, sir,” he replied, as the relative circumstances flashed across him.
Mr. Galloway looked at him, possibly doubting whether he really did remember. “How many letters were there for the post that afternoon?” he asked.
“Three,” promptly rejoined Arthur. “Two were for London, and one was for Ventnor.”
“Just so,” assented Mr. Galloway. “Now, then, to whom did you intrust the posting of those letters?”
“I did not intrust them to any one,” replied Arthur; “I posted them myself.”