"What do I think?" he said, at last, with a groan. "I think it means ruin for me. Mr Severn, I have apologised for speaking so sharply to you, and now I must humble myself to you. If you report this to the Doctor only one thing can follow. I shall have lost his confidence for ever, and he will tell me at once to send in my resignation. Mr Severn, you and your young companion don't know what it is to be poor.

The loss of my post here under such circ.u.mstances, due to a weak desire to help a fellow-master in distress, would be quite sufficient to injure me dreadfully. If I have sinned I am bitterly punished for what I have done. This is a humiliation, a cruel humiliation, such as you can hardly realise."

"Please don't say any more, sir," said Glyn quickly. "This hurts me almost as much as it does you. What I have said was on behalf of Singh, and I shall certainly not say a word to the Doctor, for I know that now you will help me in watching over my father's ward."

"Mr Severn," began Morris, "I--I--Oh, I cannot speak. Try and realise what I feel. But tell me once more, so that I may go away at rest: this is to be a private matter between us two?"

"Yes, sir, of course," cried Glyn earnestly, and they separated.

"Well, where is it?" said Singh, a few minutes later.

"I couldn't find it," was Glyn's reply. "Here you had better take your keys."

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO.

THE PROFESSOR'S GRAt.i.tUDE.

There was a great talk at the Doctor's establishment about the event of the season, an event that filled the boys' brains, seniors and juniors, for weeks before it took place, and brought forth a rebuke from the Doctor one morning at breakfast, for the masters were reporting that the papers sent in by the boys were very much wanting in merit. There was a report, too, going about that Monsieur Brohanne had been seen walking up and down the cla.s.s-room tearing his hair--a most serious matter in his case, for it was exceedingly short.

Matters had come to such a pitch that the Doctor sternly gave quite a little lecture upon the duty of every pupil to do his very best, whether at work or play, saying that a boy who could not give his mind to working could not devote it to playing well. And if in future, he said, his pupils did not work hard, he should be obliged to make them suffer the contumely of sending in word that they would not be able to meet Strongley School in the annual cricket-match.

"I regret it very much, young gentlemen," said the Doctor; "but if you will disgrace your _alma mater_ by idleness, I have no other alternative. Duty and pleasure must go hand in hand."

The boys groaned that morning, and broke up into little knots after breakfast to discuss the matter. Little jealousies were forgotten, and Slegge declared it was too bad of the Doctor, who seemed to be blaming them, the seniors, for the failings of those lazy little beggars the juniors, just when their picked eleven had arrived at such perfection, through his batting, Glyn's bowling, and the n.i.g.g.e.r's wicket-keeping, that success was certain.

There was gloom in every face save one, and that appertained to Morris, who watched his opportunity, b.u.t.ton-holed Glyn and Singh, and led them off into the solitude of the lecture-hall.

"Good news!" he said. "Splendid news! Gentlemen, this is entirely a private matter between us three, and I know you will be ready to rejoice."

"What, have you got some fine appointment, Mr Morris?" cried Glyn, who had grown to be on quite friendly terms with the master in a very short time of late, Morris making a point of treating him always with genuine respect, and aiding him in every way possible--coaching him, in fact, with his mathematics, in which, truth to tell, Glyn did not shine.

"No," cried Morris, in answer to the lad's question; "it is better than that. Somebody else has."

"You mean Professor Barclay?" said Singh.

"Yes, sir; I mean Professor Barclay. I have had a letter from him this morning telling me of his success, and that he leaves for India directly, to take up some post in connection with the Sanskrit college."

"I am very glad," said Singh, "for he must have been dreadfully poor."

"Sadly so," said Morris.

"I am glad too," said Glyn; "very."

"You don't know what a relief it is to me," continued Morris confidentially.

"Is he coming down to see you before he goes?" said Glyn.

"Oh no. He writes word that he is staying at apartments in London in the neighbourhood of the East India Docks until the great Indiaman sails, and desires his most respectful compliments to you both, and above all he begs me to tell you, Mr Singh, that the feelings of grat.i.tude within his breast will never expire. While, as now he is entering upon a career of prosperity, many weeks will not elapse before he sends something, upon receipt of which he hopes you will return to him certain little memoranda that you hold, signed by his name."

"Ha, ha!" laughed Singh, "he'll wait a long time. Why, I burned them all directly after he gave them to me. Are you going to write to him, Mr Morris?"

"Yes; I must reply to his letter."

"Then, please tell him from me that I wish him all success in my beautiful country, and that he is never to trouble himself any more about the memoranda."

"For you have burned them?" said Morris.

"Yes, of course."

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.

SOMEBODY IS UNTRUSTWORTHY.

The boys did their best to worthily earn their cricket-match, and it came off some weeks after in due time.

The morning broke gloriously; four wagonettes came round to the door after a very early breakfast, and the masters followed in an open carriage with the Doctor, Wrench closing the door of each vehicle, and confiding to each party as it started that he wished it had been his luck to go as well; but he was going to enjoy himself that day by having a regular good polish at the Doctor's plate.

Strongley was reached in good time, the wickets were pitched, and the enemy, as the boys called them, made such a poor score in their innings that they had to follow on to another failure, the result being that the Doctor's pupils beat them in one innings, and drove back to Plymborough cheering madly.

As it happened, during the return, Glyn and Singh were separated; Glyn being in the first wagonette and reaching Plymborough a good half-hour before the last one, in which Singh rode.

Hurrying up to his room for a good wash and change, to get it over before Singh returned, the first thing that caught the boy's eyes was Singh's little bunch of keys hanging from the lock of the bullock-trunk in the corner.

Glyn was in such high spirits that the sight of the bunch set him laughing.

"Well, of all the untrustworthy fellows I ever knew," he said, "poor old Singh's about the worst."

Crossing to the trunk, he raised the lid, which yielded easily to his hand, banged it down again, turned the key, and put the bunch in the pocket of his flannel trousers ready to transfer to his ordinary garments when he dressed.

He had just finished when a burst of cheering and the rattle of wheels announced the coming of the last wagonette; and soon after, tired and hungry, Singh came up, to help fill the corridor with a chorus of chattering, and then hurriedly went on for his change of dress.

Then followed the supper the Doctor gave them, and, later on, the bell for prayers and rest.

"Hope you haven't lost your keys," said Glyn, as they began to undress, utterly wearied out.

"Lost my keys! Why should I lose my keys?" said Singh with a yawn.

"Here they are! No, they are not! I left them in my flannels."

"Nice fellow you are to take care of your things!" said Glyn, as his companion limped across the room to where he had thrown his dusty and green-marked cricketing suit--anyhow--upon a chair.

"Oh, murder!" he said. "I am so stiff. I can hardly move, and my right hand feels all bruised and strained; but I say, Glynny, I hardly missed a ball; and didn't I play old gooseberry with some of their stumps?"

"Yes, we must have rather astonished them," cried Glyn. "They haven't had such a licking as that for a long time."

"Here, I say," cried Singh, "you have been up to some games," and he fumbled in vain in his flannels-pockets. "I say, you shouldn't do this, Glynny. The key of my India trunk is one of the bunch, and you know I don't like any games played with that."