“I should think you did,” significantly returned the master. But Charles interrupted him.
“You will not punish them, sir, now I have come back safe?” he pleaded.
“But they deserve punishment,” said the master.
“I know they have been sorry; Arthur says they have,” urged Charley. “Please do not punish them now, sir; it is so pleasant to be back again!”
“Will you promise never to be frightened at their foolish tricks again?” said the master. “Not that there is much danger of their playing you any: this has been too severe a lesson. I am surprised that a boy of your age, Charles, could allow himself to be alarmed by ‘ghosts.’ You do not suppose there are such things, surely?”
“No, sir; but somehow, that night I got too frightened to think. You will forgive them, sir, won’t you?”
“Yes! There! Go and shake hands with them,” said Mr. Pye, relaxing his dignity. “It is worth something, Charley, to see you here again.”
The school seemed to think so; and I wish you had heard the shout that went up from it—the real, true, if somewhat noisy delight, that greeted Charles. “Charley, we’ll never dress up a ghost again! We’ll never frighten you in any way!” they cried, pressing affectionately round him. “Only forgive us!”
“Why are you sitting in the senior’s place, Tom?” asked Arthur.
“Because it is his own,” said Harry Huntley, with a smile of satisfaction. “Lady Augusta came in and set things right for you, and Tom is made senior at last. Hurrah! Arthur cleared, Tom senior, Charley back, and Gerald flogged! Hurrah!”