Boarding schools -- England -- Juvenile fiction; Schools -- Fiction; Students -- Juvenile fiction
We stood there while he wrote some letters and put away some books on
the shelves. Then he rang the bell, and handed the letters to the
servant to post. After that he sat in his chair for a quarter of an
hour in silence, evidently ruminating.
At last he deigned to notice our presence.
"Tempest," he said, "I am very grieved at this. I had hoped better
things of you. You know what the consequence must be to you?"
"I'm to be expelled, I know," said the Dux. "The sooner the better."
The doctor raised his eyebrows. There was no dealing with a reprobate
like this.
"I have written to your grandfather to say you will return home to-
morrow."
"I'm sorry it's not to-night," said the Dux.
"And you, Jones," said the doctor to me, not heeding the last
speech,--"I am more sorry for you. You are a foolish, misguided boy.
Even now, if you atone for your fault by replying to my questions, I am
willing to spare your mother the misery you seem bent on bringing upon
her."
This was a cruel thrust. The thought of my mother had crossed my mind
once or twice already, and almost brought the tears to my eyes. It
would be hard to explain all to her--and yet, and yet, anything was
better than turning sneak.
"I won't answer," said I. "I'd sooner be expelled."
"Your desire shall be gratified," said the doctor drily; "to-morrow you
will go too."
"Thank you, sir."
"Tempest, you will remain here for the rest of the day--Jones, you will
go to the dormitory and remain there. I forbid you, either of you, to
hold any communication with your late schoolfellows while you remain
here."
Next morning after breakfast we were finally brought up before the whole
school and harangued publicly by the head master. Our punishment, he
told us, we had deliberately brought on our own heads. Aggravated
insubordination like ours was not to be tolerated in any school. He was
sure we should soon regret and be ashamed of our conduct, if we were not
so already. For his own part he would try to forget the unfortunate
affair, and to think kindly of us both. Mr Ramsbottom would see
Tempest to the station, and the matron would escort me.
"Good-bye, Tempest," said he, holding out his hand.
"Good-bye," said the Dux, not heeding the hand, and walking to the door.
"Good-bye, Jones."
I shook hands. After all, Plummer, I thought, meant to be kind, though
he took an odd way of showing it. I was thankful when the ceremony was
over, and the Dux and I found ourselves with our luggage in the hall
waiting for our cabs.
All at once the old school we were leaving seemed to become dearer than
I had thought.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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