Mr Parrett had his reward, however, in the good will of the boys generally, which he prized highly, and nowhere was he more popular than among the juniors of his own house.
What was their dismay, therefore, at the accident of that unlucky afternoon, and with what doleful faces did they present themselves in a melancholy procession at the door of his room at the appointed hour!
“Come in,” said Mr Parrett, who was still in his flannels, and had not quite done tea. “Oh, you are the boys that I met on the river this afternoon. All except one belonging to my house, I see.”
“Yes, sir,” exclaimed Telson, who was the distinguished exception, “they’re all Parretts except me, and it was all my fault, sir, and I’m—”
“No,” interrupted Parson, “it was all my fault; I was steering.”
“It was all our faults,” said Lawkins.
“Oh,” said Mr Parrett, who could not help looking a little amused at the eager faces of the young culprits. “Perhaps it was my fault for not looking where I was coming to.”
“Oh, sir,” said Parson, “that wouldn’t have been any good. We ran you down on purpose.”
“Eh?” said Mr Parrett, not quite sure whether he had heard correctly.
“That is, we didn’t know it was you, sir; we thought it was a schoolhouse—” (here Telson looked threatening)—“I mean we thought it was some one else. We wouldn’t have done it if we thought it was you, sir—indeed we wouldn’t.”