Arthur was far less concerned at his wounds than at the moral injury which he had suffered in being so completely punished in the encounter. He feared Railsford would entertain a lower opinion of him in consequence.
“If I’d have only known he was coming, I could have made it hotter for him,” he said; “only he got my head in chancery early, and though I lashed out all I could, he took it out of me. Marky, do you mind feeling if my ribs are all right? I sort of fancied one of ’em had gone.”
His ribs, however, were all there; and badly as he was bruised, Railsford was able to pronounce that no bones were broken, which greatly relieved both the boys.
The master helped the wounded warrior to undress, and then assisted him up to the dormitory, where, after carefully tucking him up, and advising Dig to turn in too, he left him and returned to his room.
His impulse was immediately to summon Felgate, and mete out to him exemplary chastisement for his dastardly act. But on second thoughts he remembered that he was, or rather he would be to-morrow, no longer master of the house. Besides, much as the chastisement might have relieved his own feelings, it would leave the house and everyone in it in much the same position as heretofore.
Putting everything together, he decided that his last official act should be to report the matter to the doctor next morning, and leave him to deal with it.
Having come to which conclusion, he strapped up his portmanteau, and sent an order to Jason for his cab to-morrow.
He was meditating an early retirement to bed, when a knock sounded at the door, and the three prefects entered.
It seemed a long while since their first embarrassed meeting in that same room at the beginning of last term. Much had happened since then. The house had gone down into the depths and risen to the heights. There had come disgrace and glory, defeat and victory. The ranks of the prefects themselves had been broken, and the master himself had ended his brief career amongst his boys. But as great a change as any had been the growing respect and sympathy between Railsford and his head boys.
It was long since he had learned the secret that sympathy is the golden key to a boy’s heart. As long as he tried to do without it, sitting on his high horse, and regarding his pupils as mere things to be taught and ordered and punished, he had failed. But from the moment he had seized the golden opportunity presented by the misfortune of the house to throw in his lot with it, and make his interests and ambitions those of his boys, he had gained a hold which no other influence could have given him.