By the way! And here a horrible thought flashed across his mind. He had been so flurried last night with one thing and another that he had hardly noticed a message sent him after call-over by the Register Clerk. But it occurred to him now that it was about some boys who had not answered to their names.
He got out of bed with a groan and searched the mantelpiece for the note. Ah! here it was:
“Co. Fr. p.m., Telson (S.H.), Bosher, King, Lawkins, Parson (P), Abs. Go Capt. 8½ Sa. (Telson 2, Bosher 1, Parson 2.)”
After a great deal of puzzling and cogitation Riddell managed to translate this lucid document into ordinary English as follows:
“Call-Over, Friday evening, Telson (schoolhouse), Bosher, King, Lawkins, Parson (Parrett’s), absent. To go to the captain at half-past eight on Saturday. (Telson has already been absent twice this week, Bosher once, Parson twice.)” And with the discovery the unhappy captain found his worst fears realised.
Whatever would he do? It was now half-past five. In three hours they would be here. What would Wyndham have done? Caned them, no doubt. Riddell had no cane. Ruler? He might break one of their ringers, or they might resist; or worse still baffle him with some ingenious excuse which he would not know how to deal with.
He sat by his bed staring hopelessly at the paper and wishing himself anywhere but head of the school—and then as no new light appeared to dawn on the question, and as going back to bed would be a farce, he proceeded to dress.
He had just completed his toilet when he heard some one moving in the next study.
“There’s Fairbairn getting up,” he said to himself. “I wonder if he could help me?”
He thought he could. And yet, under the nervous exterior of this boy there lurked a certain pride which held him back from acting on the impulse. After all, if he was to do the work, why should he try to shunt part of his responsibility on to another?