"I do not press the matter until I hear the complaint of the senior chorister against Aultane," said he aloud, to Mr. Wilberforce. "It was something that occurred in the cathedral yesterday, in the hearing, unfortunately, of the judges. But a few preliminary tasks, by way of present punishment, will do Aultane no harm." "I'll give them to him, Mr. Dean," heartily responded the master, whose ears had been so scandalised by the mysterious allusions to Rutterley's, that he would have liked to treat the whole school to "tasks" and to something else, all round. "I'll give them to him." "You see what a Tom-fool you have made of yourself!" grumbled Prattleton senior to Aultane, as the latter returned to his desk, laden with work. "That's all the good you have got by splitting to the dean." "I wish the dean was in the sea, I do!" madly cried Aultane, as he savagely watched the retreat of that very reverend divine, who went out carrying the gold medal between his fingers, and followed by Mr. St. John. "And I wish that brute, St. John was hung! He----" Aultane's words and bravery alike faded into silence, for the two were coming back again. The master stood up. "I forgot to tell you, Mr. Wilberforce, that I have recommended Henry Arkell to take a holiday for a day or two. That was a violent fall yesterday; and his fainting afterwards struck me as not wearing a favourable appearance." "Have you seen him, Mr. Dean?" "I saw him an hour ago, just before service. I was going by the house as he came out of it, on his way to college, I suppose. It is a strange thing what it could have been that caused the fall." "So it is," replied the master. "I was inquiring about it just now, but the school does not seem to know anything." "Neither does he, so far as I can learn. At any rate, rest will be best for him for a day or two." "No doubt it will, Mr. Dean. Thank you for thinking of it." They finally went out, St. John casting a significant look behind him, at the boys in general, at Aultane junior in particular. It said as plainly as looks could say, "I'd not peach again, boys, if I were you;" and Aultane junior, but for the restraining presence of the head master, would assuredly have sent a yell after him. How much St. John told of the real truth to the dean, that the medal _had_ been pledged, we must leave between them. The school never knew. Henry himself never knew. St. John quitted the dean at the deanery, and went on to restore the medal to its owner: although Georgina Beauclerc was standing at one of the deanery windows, looking down expectantly, as if she fancied he was going in.