"Exactly. Don't you think it was rather dishonourable of you to go and tell the English master of it this morning?" "I did not do so." "_We_ think it was," continued Loftus, wholly disregarding the denial. "A gentleman could not be guilty of such an act. You have but just come among us, and in any case the matter was none of yours. Perhaps you will concern yourself in future with your own affairs, and not with ours. The first desk is not accustomed to this kind of thing." Except for the stress laid upon the word "gentleman," there was nothing offensive in the cold tone: Loftus could not have descended to abuse. Mr. Henry looked surprised, rather bewildered. "I should think you did not hear my denial, Loftus. I assure you I have not spoken of this." "That's all," returned Loftus, going out with his tail, who had not seen cause to interfere. Brown major, however, thought better of it, and turned back for a parting word. "Such a nasty, sneaking thing to do, you know! You might have accused us openly to our faces; not have gone canting to the masters behind our backs." Whatever Bertie Loftus's faults might be, he scorned a lie: and he fully believed the denial of the German master to be nothing less. So far as the smoking party knew, nobody else had been, or could have been, cognizant of the cigars; for Brown minor and his room had kept their own counsel. "I knew he'd deny it," exclaimed Trace, when they got back, his light eyes flashing with a scorn not often seen there. "You now see what he is." "I say, what d'ye think he's having for dinner?" burst out Fullarton. "Potatoes and salt." "Potatoes and salt? Go along with you." "Ask Loftus then; ask Brown. He had got nothing else but a Dutch cheese; he was washing 'em down with milk." "What else could be expected of one who'd go to lodge at Mother Butter's?" was the scornful remark of Savage. "He must be a cad!" "And an owl," squeaked Lamb, venturing forward. "Owls go out prowling at night. Nobody else _could_ have told." Clearly. A master who dined on potatoes and salt, and eat his words with a lie when his villainy was found out, was an owl, and all the rest of it. Mr. Henry meanwhile was unconscious of the storm against him. He rather laughed over the matter, attaching no importance to it. His frugal dinner despatched, he was plodding on with his translation, when a little fellow, to whom he had promised some help in a tormenting French exercise, came in; and he was followed by George Paradyne, who often brought his Greek difficulties to Mr. Henry. George was a good classical scholar, but Mr. Henry was a better. Patiently he gave his best attention to both, putting his own work aside. He was always ready to help the boys out of hours, and encouraged them to come to him, though it was not in his line of duties.