Le Willow was well connected; in fact, as Mrs. Chowdler put it, he had a grandfather; and the grandfather wrote a letter to the chairman of the Council which caused that gentleman much concern. He wanted to know why the dickens they had appointed to Chiltern a headmaster who didn’t know the ABC of his profession. Expel from school a promising lad for a boyish offence of which they had all been guilty, probably, in their day! The thing was absurd. Boys and masters alike were in a state of mutiny; and he called upon the chairman to intervene. The chairman was perplexed; for the grandfather was no ordinary grandfather but a man with a commanding name and a great social position. After some hesitation he wrote to the headmaster, disclaiming any idea of interfering, but asking for information. He wished, he said, to be in a position to contradict certain reports, unfounded no doubt, which were being circulated in the London clubs and which might damage the school. Thus appealed to, Mr. Flaggon wrote a detailed account of the affair and of the principles which had guided his own action. He added that the tone and discipline of Chiltern were very different from what he had been led to expect, and that le Willow, besides being somewhat old for his place in the school, was not a desirable asset. The chairman shook his head dubiously over this communication and murmured something about “new brooms” and “excess of zeal”; but he informed the grandfather with much tact that, though the Council felt great sympathy with him, they were unable to interfere in a matter that directly concerned the discipline of the school, and that any appeal for mercy must be made to the headmaster in person. As for le Willow, he was sure that the boy had a brilliant future in front of him, and he wished him every success. And there the matter ended, except that the le Willow parents cursed Mr. Flaggon by all the le Willow gods and threatened to bring an action; which threat they were wise enough not to carry into effect. Also that Lord Chalvey withdrew his son who was entered for Mr. Chowdler’s house in the following Term. This was a contingency which Mr. Chowdler had not foreseen when he started on his campaign, and it did not help to reconcile him to the headmaster. And, while the chairman was actually penning his reply to the duke, one wet November afternoon, Mr. Plummer and Mr. Bent were once more pacing the “Ushers’ Grind” in mackintoshes. A steady drizzle had damped their fighting spirit, and taunts that usually kindled flames had only produced a perfunctory fizzle. At last Mr. Plummer said: “I’m afraid the boys haven’t a great respect for Flaggon.” “I shouldn’t take Chowdler too seriously,” said Mr. Bent. “I didn’t say Chowdler,” replied his companion; “I said the boys.”