On this occasion, however, Mr. Chowdler found but few disciples. Mr. Flaggon’s prompt and fearless handling of the affair, the words which he had spoken to the school, his genuine hatred of the evil thing and, with it all, his buoyant faith in the ultimate triumph of good influences, had made a deep impression on the masters. They realised that, in spite of youth and inexperience, the new headmaster was a man; and not a few of them felt that they had themselves been culpably blind. “It’s no good,” said one of the younger men, who taught a low form in the school, “it’s no good saying that we didn’t see and couldn’t be expected to see. We _ought_ to have seen; the evidence was all around us. Why, there are three kids in my form--new last Term--who are different men since this came out; different in their work and their manner and everything. It’s like people waking up from a nightmare.” “And there’s one in my form,” said Mr. Rankin, “who goes about looking as if he were going to be hanged. I guess he’s got something pretty heavy on his conscience, and he’s mortally afraid of being swept into the net.” But there was one point on which opinion was not so unanimous. What would be the effect on the reputation of the school of all these drastic expulsions? Would not intending parents take fright? With numbers already down, was this root-and-branch method altogether wise--and was it really necessary? Mr. Plummer shared these doubts; and he expressed them to Mr. Bent as they stood, one bleak afternoon in March, on the Sow’s Back, looking over a grey and cheerless landscape. “Of course,” he said, “I recognise that Flaggon has come out of all this extraordinarily well, and has taught us all a great deal. Nothing, I’m sure, could have been more impressive than the way he spoke to the school, and I shall remember it as long as I live. But, I must say, I don’t quite like this relentless pruning. Five boys on the spot, and ten more at the end of the Term! It looks as if we were forgetting that it’s our duty to save as well as to punish.” “I know,” said Mr. Bent; “the parable of the lost sheep. But that parable, my dear Plummer, was never meant for schoolmasters; _we_ need to be reminded of our duty to the ninety and nine--we’re always ready enough to play the rôle of good shepherd. Besides, you know the sequel.” “What sequel?” asked Mr. Plummer. “Don’t you know,” replied Mr. Bent, “that a month afterwards the lost sheep, having acquired a taste for adventures, trotted off into the wilderness again, taking with him this time the rest of the flock, twenty-five per cent. of whom got eaten by wolves and never were heard of more? No, my dear Plummer, it’s too risky.” “But one _must_ take risks,” insisted Mr. Plummer, “if one is to do anything that is worth doing: and, to refuse to take risks when there’s a chance of saving anybody seems to me sheer cowardice.”