There was a silence, and every face was grave, as the doctor concluded, “I wish I could say as much of his companion, and I fear, leader in wrong—Silk.”
There was another start, but less of surprise than assent this time. For when Gilks had been named as one culprit every one knew the name of the other.
“I have no message for you from him,” said the doctor, with a voice in which a faint tremble was discernible; “but on his behalf we may at least hope that in new scenes, and under more favourable conditions, he may be able to recover the character he lost here. An event like this carries its own lesson. Do not be too ready to blame them, but let their example be humbly taken by each one of you as a warning against the first approach of temptation, from which none of us is free, and which by God’s help only can any of us hope ever to resist or overcome.”
The doctor’s words did not fail to make a deep impression on those present. There were not a few whose consciences told them that after all the difference between them and the expelled boys was not very great, and it had needed a warning like this to arouse them.
The rest of the day a subdued atmosphere hung over Willoughby. A good many boys thought more than was their wont, and even the noisiest shrunk from indulging their high spirits to their customary extent.
But the chief feeling that day was one of relief. Not that two bad boys had been expelled, but because the hateful boat-race mystery had been finally cleared up, and with it the reproach on the honour of Willoughby had been removed. As long as it had hung like a black cloud over the term, boys had lacked spirit and encouragement to rally for the good of the school. House had been divided against house, set against set, captain against captain, and the order and discipline of the school had gone down to a miserable pitch.
Against all these opposing influences the new captain, as we have seen, had struggled gallantly, and not wholly without success; but even his influence could not disperse all the suspicions, and heartburnings, and jealousies that centred round that unlucky race. Now, however, the clearing up of that mystery, and, still more, the new alliance, rumours of which were spreading fast, between the two captains, opened new hopes for the old school.
There were not a few who at first treated the rumours of the new alliance with sceptical derision, but they had soon cause to discover that it was more than a joke.
Stutter and Wibberly, two of the sceptics, happened to be caught that very afternoon by Bloomfield in the act of “skulking” dinner—that is, of answering to their names at the call-over, and then slipping off unobserved to enjoy a rather more elaborate clandestine meal in their own study. It was not a very uncommon offence, or perhaps a very terrible one, but it was an offence which monitors were bound to report.
“Where are you off to?” demanded Bloomfield, encountering these two deserters.