Gerald, who was surprised at his name being known, answered, ‘Yes, sir.’ ‘My dear boy,’ said Mr. Selby, ‘I am sure you are in some trouble. Do tell me what it is; perhaps I can help you.’ And he sat down by Gerald’s side and laid his hand upon his arm. If Gerald had been like other boys, he would perhaps have tried to parry the question. Or if there had been other boys in the library, it would have been difficult for him to open his heart to a master; nay, it is possible that Mr. Selby would have sought another opportunity of speaking to him. But they were alone. There was something in Mr. Selby’s voice and manner that made deception difficult. Gerald hung his head down and said nothing. ‘What is it, my dear Eversley?’ Mr. Selby repeated. Then Gerald told him the following story--not all at once, for Mr. Selby helped him by a good many kindly suggestive questions, and the story was drawn out of him only slowly, but he told it in the simple confidence of truth. ‘Please, sir,’ he said, ‘they think I have sneaked of them.’ ‘Who are _they_?’ said Mr. Selby. ‘Please, sir, the fellows in the house,’ was the answer. ‘What makes them think so?’ asked Mr. Selby. ‘Because Mr. Brandiston caught them boxing on Sunday, and they say I told him,’ answered Gerald. It appeared (although Gerald was careful not to mention any names) that some boys in Mr. Brandiston’s house who were proficients in the noble art of self-defence, Tracy being one of the ringleaders among them, and a boy named Vansittart another, had arranged for a grand display of pugilistic skill at five o’clock one Sunday afternoon. They chose that day and that time, not as having any special desire to violate the law, divine or human, of the Sabbath, but because it was then that Mr. Brandiston, as was well known, devoted himself to his family and friends and perhaps a few boys who were invited to join his domestic circle at tea. Nobody had ever heard of Mr. Brandiston appearing among the boys of his house on Sunday afternoon. The pugilists had, therefore, assumed that it would be safe to begin operations at that time. The boxing would be doubly offensive to Mr. Brandiston as being calculated to bring discredit upon his house, partly because it was itself an exhibition which was wholly opposed to his feelings, but still more because it took place on a Sunday, a day which ought, in his opinion, on grounds of social etiquette even more than of religious obligation, to be kept sacred. But if he had dreamed of the possibility of his house becoming the scene of Sabbatarian pugilism, he would have entertained the further objection that pugilism in a boarding house is at the best only a disguised form of bullying; for it is sure to mean, not that the boys who box are experts or volunteers, but that pressure is put upon young and delicate boys to enter the lists against boys a great deal stronger than themselves. And this was actually the case;