He looked at Bobbie happily. Bobbie’s expression never changed. For a moment Henry looked decidedly disappointed. But at last a look of understanding suddenly came into his eye. And as he looked down at Bobbie darkly, his face grew suddenly very old indeed, very old and very wise. CHAPTER IX A MOLE-HILL AND A MOUNTAIN The new Head had dined well and in due course had retired to that wide room of heavy curtains and stained-glass windows wherein the Grey Man had always seemed so admirable a Head. Dr Roe did not seem at all in keeping with that place of peaceful dignity. This had been one of the things that had troubled Toby most. He was too loud of speech, too free of gesture, and he had not the upright presence which had been so memorable a part of the man whose hair and eyes and clothing had been grey. The new Head had retired to his study that evening much as a dog retires to his kennel with a bone. He had taken papers and a long cigar and had sat down heavily in the great arm-chair beside the fireplace; then, leaning back, he had rested his head against a blue plush cushion, with a sigh of deep content. Now his eyes passed slowly round the room, taking in previously unnoticed features, and at last came back to the fire, where they fixed a sleepy gaze upon some vision in the glowing coals. It was a small fire, for summer had scarcely passed, but Dr Roe was a lover of fires and he had ordered this especially. He poked it with his boot and upset a few cinders into the grate. Finally, he considered the papers he had brought with him for perusal. They seemed but faintly interesting, and eventually the memory of his dinner proved too much: slowly his eyes closed. Within a few moments the new Headmaster of Harley was dozing in his chair with nodding head and mouth agape. Now whilst he dozed he had a dream. It was the usual silly sort of dream and he found himself cast for the part of king. He was only the king of one of those insignificant little states whose troubles form the plot of many a comic opera, but that is better than not being a king at all, and at all events he was surprisingly well loved. In his dream the whole populace were acclaiming him. He was being bombarded with flowers. His courtiers (amongst whom might be noticed the school bursar looking very natty in red velvet) stood smilingly around him, bowing and waving to the swaying crowd gathered before his window. He himself was behaving in a kingly but somewhat distant manner, and once when an ornamental basket of hollyhocks had caught him a crashing blow between the eyes he had shown annoyance. It seemed clear in this dream, however, that sooner or later he would have to make a speech, and as he considered himself by no means a bad speaker he did not keep the crowd waiting any longer than was proper.