I listened, with astonishment and dismay, to the tale which Bob Hale told me. I could not help asking myself to what extent I was responsible for the troubles which overwhelmed the Parkville Liberal Institute. I told Bob how I felt, and he ridiculed the idea of my shouldering any portion of the blame.
"Even the parson says you are not to blame, and that you have behaved like a gentleman from the beginning," said he, alluding to Henry Vallington, who, on account of his intended profession, often went by the name of the "parson."
"Can you imagine why Mr. Hardy was discharged?" I asked.
"We don't know; but it is easy enough to see that he blamed Mr. Parasyte, though he never said a word to the fellows. The idea of staying at the Institute after Mr. Hardy goes is not to be thought of," replied Bob, who, like myself, was a day scholar at the school. "What did Parasyte mean when he said your uncle wished him to flog you into subjection?"
"He meant that; my uncle told him to do so," I replied, with shame and mortification, not for myself, but for him who should have been my guardian and protector.
"Did he, though? Well, that was amiable of him," added Tom Rush. "He and Parasyte will do to go together."
"They do go together. I find that Mr. Parasyte owes my uncle a large sum of money. I had no idea that they were even acquainted with each other before," I continued.
"Then I wonder that Parasyte made a row with you, if he owed your uncle so much money."
"I don't understand it; but I think Mr. Parasyte didn't expect any trouble. He judged hastily between Poodles and me, and when he had given his decision, he was too proud and too obstinate to alter it. I suppose he was a little afraid after what he had done, and went to see my uncle and ask for instructions."
"But it was cold-blooded for your uncle to say what he did."