"I see, I see!" said Norman, carried along by the indignation and tenderness that agitated his father's voice in his vehemence--"it is the only thing to be done."
"It would be sharing the guilt to hide it," said Dr. May.
"Very well," said Norman, still reluctantly. "What do you wish me to do? You see, as dux, I know nothing about it. It happened while I was away."
"True, true," said his father. "You have learned it as brother, not as senior boy. Yes, we had better have you out of the matter. It is I who complain of their usage of my son."
"Thank you," said Norman, with gratitude.
"You have not told me the names of these fellows! No, I had best not know them."
"I think it might make a difference," hesitated Norman.
"No, no, I will not hear them. It ought to make none. The fact is the same, be they who they may."
The doctor let himself out at the garden gate, and strode off at a rapid pace, conscious perhaps, in secret, that if he did not at once yield to the impulse of resentment, good nature would overpower the sense of justice. His son returned to the house with a heavy sigh, yet honouring the generosity that had respected his scruples, when merely his own worldly loss was involved, but set them aside when the good of others was concerned. By-and-by Dr. May reappeared. The head-master had been thoroughly roused to anger, and had begged at once to examine May junior, for whom his father was now come.
Tom was quite unprepared for such formidable consequences of his confession, and began by piteous tears and sobs, and when these had, with some difficulty, been pacified, he proved to be really so unwell and exhausted, that his father could not take him to Minster Street, and was obliged to leave him to his brother's keeping, while he returned to the school.
Upon this, Dr. Hoxton came himself, and the sisters were extremely excited and alarmed by the intelligence that he was in the study with papa and Tom.
Then away went the gentlemen; and Mary was again called to comfort Tom, who, broken down into the mere longing for sympathy, sobbed out all his troubles to her, while her eyes expanded more and more in horror, and her soft heart giving way, she cried quite as pitifully, and a great deal more loudly; and so the other sisters learned the whole, and Margaret was ready for her father when he came in, in the evening, harassed and sorrowful. His anger was all gone now, and he was excessively grieved at finding that the ringleaders, Samuel Axworthy and Edward Anderson, could, in Dr. Hoxton's opinion, receive no sentence but expulsion, which was to be pronounced on them on Monday.
Sam Axworthy was the son of a low, uneducated man, and his best chance had been the going to this school; but he was of a surly, obstinate temper, and showed so little compunction, that even such superabundant kindness as Dr. May's could not find compassion for him; especially since it had appeared that Tom had been by no means the only victim, and that he had often been the promoter of the like malpractices, which many boys were relieved to be forced to expose.
For Edward Anderson, however, or rather for his mother, Dr. May was very sorry, and had even interceded for his pardon; but Dr. Hoxton, though slow to be roused, was far less placable than the other doctor, and would not hear of anything but the most rigorous justice.
"Poor Mrs. Anderson, with her pride in her children!" Flora spoke it with a shade of contemptuous pity, but it made her father groan.
"I shall never be able to look in her face again! I shall never see that boy without feeling that I have ruined him!"
"He needed nobody to do that for him," said Flora.
"With every disadvantage!" continued Dr. May; "unable even to remember his father! Why could I not be more patient and forbearing?"
"Oh, papa!" was the general cry--Norman's voice giving decision to the sisters' exclamation.
"Perhaps," said Margaret, "the shock may be the best thing for him."
"Right, Margaret," said her father. "Sometimes such a thing is the first that shows what a course of evil really is."
"They are an affectionate family too," said Margaret, "and his mother's grief may have an effect on him."
"If she does not treat him as an injured hero," said Flora; besides, I see no reason for regret. These are but two, and the school is not to be sacrificed to them."
"Yes, "said Norman; "I believe that Ashe will be able to keep much better order without Axworthy. It is much better as it is, but Harry will be very sorry to hear it, and I wish this half was over."
Poor Mrs. Anderson! her shower of notes rent the heart of the one doctor, but were tossed carelessly aside by the other. On that Sunday, Norman held various conversations with his probable successor, Ashe, a gentle, well-disposed boy, hitherto in much dread of the post of authority, but owning that, in Axworthy's absence, the task would be comparatively easy, and that Anderson would probably originate far less mischief.
Edward Anderson himself fell in Norman's way in the street, and was shrinking aside, when a word, of not unfriendly greeting, caused him to quicken his steps, and say, hesitatingly, "I say, how is August?"
"Better, thank you; he will be all right in a day or two."
"I say, we would not have bullied him so, if he had not been in such a fright at nothing."
"I dare say not."
"I did not mean it all, but that sort of thing makes a fellow go on," continued Edward, hanging down his head, very sorrowful and downcast.
"If it had only been fair bullying; but to take him to that place--to teach him falsehood--"said Norman.
Edward's eyes were full of tears; he almost owned the whole. He had not thought of such things, and then Axworthy-- It was more evident from manner than words that the boy did repent and was greatly overcome, both by his own disgrace and his mother's distress, wishing earnestly to redeem his character, and declaring, from the bottom of his heart, that he would avoid his former offences. He was emboldened at last to say, with hesitation, "Could not you speak to Dr. Hoxton for me?"
"My father has said all he could in your behalf."
Edward's eye glanced towards Norman in wonder, as he recollected that the Mays must know that a word from him would have saved Norman from unjust punishment and the loss of the scholarship, and he said, "Good-night," and turned aside to his own home, with a heavy sigh.
Norman took another turn, looked up at the sky, twisted his hands together in perplexity, mumbled something about hating to do a thing when it was all for no use, and then marched off towards Minster Street, with a pace like his father's the day before.
When he came forth again from Dr. Hoxton's study, he did not believe that his intercession had produced the least effect, and there was a sense of vexation at the position which he had assumed. He went home, and said nothing on the subject; but when, on Monday, the school was assembled, and the judgment announced, it was Axworthy alone whose friends had been advised to remove him.
Anderson received a severe punishment, as did all those who had shared in the revel at the Green Man. Even Tom, and another little boy, who had been likewise drawn in, were obliged to stay within narrow bounds, and to learn heavy impositions; and a stern reprimand and exhortation were given to the school collectively. Anderson, who had seen from the window that turn towards Minster Street, drew his own conclusions, and was not insensible to the generosity that had surpassed his hopes, though to his faltering attempt at thanks, Norman replied that he did not believe it was owing to him, and never exposed himself to Flora's wonder by declaring at home what he had done.
So the last weeks of the half-year passed away with the boys in a subdued, but hopeful manner, and the reformation, under Norman's auspices, progressed so well, that Ashe might fairly expect to reap the benefit of the discipline, established at so much cost.
Mr. Wilmot had looked on, and given his help, but he was preparing to leave Stoneborough, and there was great concern at the parting with such a friend. Ethel, especially, mourned the loss to Cocksmoor, and, for though hers had been the executive part, his had been the head, and he was almost equally grieved to go from the newly-begun work.