At the first alarm the school had rallied from all sides, and concentrated its forces on the enemy, who seemed determined to dispute every inch of the ground between the town and the school.
How that battle ended, and how finally the schoolboys got home, we have already seen.
Riddell did not feel it his duty under present circumstances to read his visitors a lecture on the wickedness of breaking bounds. He said it was a wonder they had all got up as safely as they had, and that no more damage had been done. As to the penalties, he advised them to turn up at call-over in the morning and hear all about that from the doctor.
Early next morning, just as Riddell was dressed, there was a knock at his door, and young Wyndham entered.
He looked dejected and uncomfortable, but otherwise appeared to have recovered from the effects of yesterday’s ill-usage.
“I say,” said he, going up to the captain and holding out his hand, “I’m awfully sorry I was such a cad to you yesterday.”
“Not a bit, old fellow,” said Riddell, seizing his hand, and glowing with pleasure at this unexpected visit. “Everybody was a bit riled, and no wonder.”
“But I’ve no excuse, I know, after all your brickishness to me, and now, after your helping me out as you did in the scrimmage yesterday, I’m awfully ashamed of being such a low cad.”
This was evidently no put-on apology for the occasion, and Wyndham, as he spoke, looked as penitent as his words.
“Oh, nonsense!” said Riddell, who could never stand being apologised to, and always felt more uncomfortable at such times than the apologiser. “But I say, were you much hurt?”