The interruption came from Tom Channing. He had discerned Judy’s cap from the other side of the Boundaries, and now came running across, unconscious that her companion was the head-master. Judy went on with her communication.
“Ketch, the porter, came to Master Tom an hour or two ago, complaining that the college boys had been serving him a trick to-night. They had pretended to invite him out somewhere to supper, and stole his cloister keys while he was gone. Now, sir, I’d not like to say too much against that surly-tempered brown bear,” went on Judy, “but if he has had anything to do with keeping the child out, he ought to be punished.”
Tom was up now, saw it was the master, and touched his trencher.
“Have you found your brother?” asked the master.
“No, sir. It is very strange where he can have got to.”
“What tricks have the boys been playing Ketch, to-night?” resumed Mr. Pye. “Your servant tells me that he has been round to you to complain of them.”
Tom went into a white heat. Judy ought to have kept her mouth shut. It was not his place to inform against the school, privately, to the master. “Y—es,” he hesitatingly said, for an untruth he would not tell.
“What was the complaint?” continued Mr. Pye. “Could this disappearance of your brother’s be connected with it?”
“No, sir, I don’t see that it could,” replied Tom.
“You ‘don’t see!’ Perhaps you’ll allow me to see, and judge. What had the boys been doing, Channing?” firmly spoke the master, perceiving his hesitation. “I insist upon knowing.”