“No, sir, I have not,” he said.
The doctor was a chivalrous man, and did not try to rub in a sore. Tempest had made a damaging admission against himself, and might be left alone to his own sense of discomfort.
Unluckily, however, Mr Jarman stood by, and the matter could hardly be allowed to drop.
“As regards the incident last night,” said the doctor, “you know quite well, all of you, that no boy, even the head of his house, has the right to set his authority against that of a master. Your conduct was an insult to him, and requires an apology. These small boys may have considered they were not doing wrong in obeying you. Tempest, but you can plead no such ignorance. I expect you to apologise to Mr Jarman.”
A struggle evidently passed through Tempest’s mind. His conscience had been roused by what the doctor had said, and his manner of saying it. Had the apology been demanded for any one else but Mr Jarman, he could have given it, and in one word have put himself on the side of duty. But apologise to Jarman! “If Mr Jarman wants me to tell a lie,” said he, slowly, “I’ll say I’m sorry. I can’t apologise to him.”
“Come, Tempest,” said the doctor, evidently disconcerted at this threatened difficulty, “you must be aware of the consequences, if you refuse to do this.”
“I know, sir, but I can’t help it. I can’t apologise to Mr Jarman.”
Dead silence followed, broken only by the hard breathing of the Philosophers. The doctor twirled the tassel of his cap restlessly. Mr Sharpe looked straight before him through his glasses. Mr Jarman stroked his moustache and smiled. Tempest stood pale and determined, with his eyes on the floor.
“I shall not prolong this scene,” said the doctor at last. “For the remaining week of this term the boys concerned in yesterday’s disturbance are forbidden to appear in the playing fields. You, Tempest, will have a day to think over your determination. Come to me in my house this time to-morrow.”
“I’d sooner it were settled now,” said Tempest respectfully and dismally. “I cannot apologise.”