He glanced in the direction of the school.

"Don't say that, Hibbert. It sounds as though there was no one in the world who cared for you."

"I know it sounds ungrateful; but even when we care for people, we must get weary of them when they're ill a long time. I don't mean you, but the nurse, and doctor, and--other people."

Paul knew that Hibbert was thinking chiefly of his father, who, absorbed in his own schemes, had only been to see him once since his illness--on that afternoon when Mr. Weevil had introduced him to Zuker.

To turn the boy's mind from these sad thoughts, Paul told him some of the latest exploits of Plunger, winding up with his recent discovery of him under the bed in his dormitory. Hibbert was amused and interested.

"Plunger's a funny lot. He makes me smile to think of him. I hope he's never worried himself much about that raft accident?"

"Plunger's not the sort of fellow to worry himself much about anything for long; but he's often asked me about you."

"I was thinking a good deal about what happened on the raft last night.

I could not sleep for thinking of it; and then, when I went to sleep, I dreamed--dreamed that my mother was standing by me all in white. She was smiling down at me, and held out her arms to me. I tried to get to her, and in trying to get to her I awoke. Do you know, I was so disappointed!

The dream was better than the awaking. I so wished my mother had lived, for then you would have known her, Paul. I'm sure you would have liked her, and that she would have liked you. But perhaps it is best as it is."

"I'm sure it's for the best, though it seems hard to say so. Everything is for the best, Hibbert. We don't see it, because we're only blind people leading the blind. But G.o.d sees, and G.o.d knows. That's what my mother has told me so often that I've never forgotten it. It has helped me a lot--more than I can tell you. You've talked about your mother, let me tell you a little about my own."

And Paul talked to Hibbert about his own mother. The boy listened eagerly, with one hand resting in Paul's, a smile upon his lips.

Suddenly he drew a deep sigh of content; the fragile head fell back upon the chair; the hand in Paul's grew suddenly cold.

Paul looked into the boy's face. The smile still hovered about his lips, but he saw something in the face he had never seen there before.

"Hibbert!" he cried. But there was no response.

Paul gently withdrew his hand and ran to the house. He met Sedgefield, and sent him for the nurse, while he hurried back to Hibbert.

The little fellow was still lying back in the chair. A wren had perched itself lovingly upon his shoulder, but Hibbert knew nothing of its presence. He was fast asleep--in the long, last sleep that knows no waking.

CHAPTER XLV

HOW THE VOTE WAS CARRIED

Hibbert's death caused a lull in the storm that recent events had raised at Garside. Notwithstanding his illness, it was thought that he was getting better. It came, therefore, with a shock to the school when he was found sleeping that afternoon in the garden. The little fellow was laid to rest in a country churchyard, at some distance from the school, by the side of the mother whom he had so loved.

No one in the school, with the exception, perhaps, of Mr. Weevil, missed him so much as Paul did. He had a great pity for Hibbert, and that pity had grown to love. He never forgot that last scene in the garden--in the warm sunshine, with the shadows creeping over it, and the Great Shadow of all drawing nearer and nearer, until it at last rested on the boy's head.

Nor did he forget the interview he afterwards had with Mr. Weevil, when, with tones that were strangely uneven for Mr. Weevil, he had questioned him about all that Hibbert had said in those last moments before he had fallen asleep. When Paul told him what the boy had said about his mother--of his dream, and the awakening--the master's eyes blinked as he had never seen them blink before.

"Ah! He has his wish; he is with her--with his mother," said the master, as one speaking to himself rather than to Paul. "He is at rest and--happy."

Then he remained silent for so long, as one buried in deep thought, that he seemed to have quite forgotten the presence of Paul. Paul knew of whom he was thinking; that he, too, was thinking of the boy's mother--the sister whom he had loved and reverenced; so he stole quietly from the room.

During this time Paul saw nothing of Hibbert's father. He wondered whether he was still carrying on his schemes in the cave, or whether the death of his son had altered his plans in any way. In any case, Paul felt no cause for alarm. The letter of Mr. Moncrief had removed all cause for anxiety. None the less he could not help feeling anxious as to what had become of the letter itself. Where had it gone to on that day it had fallen from his pocket? Into whose hands had it fallen? Had it fallen into the hands of the enemy, Newall and his lot? If so, what use were they making of it?

He was still left pretty much to himself, so he was able to put the finishing touches to his essay on "The Invasion of Great Britain," a subject, as the reader knows, which had occupied some share of his time and attention. Then the essay was sent in with others for the compet.i.tion.

The breach between him and Stanley, as may be imagined, had not been lessened by what had happened between them in the common room. Stanley avoided him as much as possible, and they never spoke.

After the momentary lull in the storm caused by the death of Hibbert, it broke out again more violently than ever. This was due to the fact that Mr. Weevil had made no inquiry, or seemed to have made no inquiry, into the circ.u.mstances which had brought about the return of the flag. Newall and his parasite Parfitt said it was a disgrace to the school.

Thus the storm, which had momentarily lulled, broke out with fresh vigour. While it was at its height, the Fifth once more a.s.sembled in the Forum. Hasluck presided, as usual, and the rest of the Form, with one exception--Paul--were present. Arbery and Leveson guarded the door against invasion from "the little beggars of the Third and Fourth."

Hasluck mounted the rostrum, and brought his mallet down with a bang as a signal that the meeting had commenced.

"Now then, you fellows, order! I'm not going to spout a lot----"

"Couldn't if you tried!" put in Devey.

"Look here, Devey, are you in the chair, or am I? If you don't keep quiet, I'll chuck the mallet at you," said Hasluck, raising it threateningly. "As I said before, till I was interrupted by an a.s.s braying, I'm not going to spout a lot. What we've got to do is to get to business, and most of you know what that business is."

"Hear, hear, hear!"

"Most of you were present in the common room when certain charges were made against Percival by Moncrief major. He told Percival to his face that the flag business was all a dodge; that it was engineered between him and the champion of the Beetles. Percival denied it; but you know what happened after that. Moncrief struck him, and Percival went away with his tail between his legs just as he did at the sand-pits. We were all disgusted----"

"All!" echoed the others, with the exception of Waterman, who was reclining languidly on a box, apparently quite unconcerned in what was going on.

"We were all disgusted, and decided to take some action which would bring matters to a point. Unfortunately, Hibbert died just then, and we could do nothing. We were obliged to wait a decent interval. The time for waiting's past." (Cheers.) "We've got to get to business. Moncrief major will explain."

Stanley, with white, set face, was standing between Newall and Parfitt.

After the charge he had made against Paul at Newall's instigation, and the blow that had followed it, he had been forced into a position from which it was impossible for him to retreat. First he had been adroitly forced into the position of being Paul's accuser; and now, with no less adroitness, he had been compelled to take a step which struck more cruelly at his friend.

"Oh, I haven't much to explain," he said, in a thick, unnatural voice.

"As Hasluck has said, we all decided to take action after what happened in the common room. Hibbert's death prevented us. I think you know what that action is. We're going to call upon the Head to expel Percival from the school."

A loud cheer greeted this announcement. There could be no doubt as to the feeling of the Form, and that Stanley had voiced it.

"Move, move!" came from several of the boys, when the cheers had subsided.

"Yes, we must have everything in order," said Hasluck. "It's about the first time that we've ever called upon the masters to expel a fellow."

Stanley hesitated. How was it possible for him to strike at Paul again--this time behind his back!

"Get on--move! What are you stopping for?" demanded Parfitt, nudging him with his elbow. "I'll back you up."

"Get on," repeated Newall, nudging him from the other side.

"I--I move," said Stanley, in faltering tones, "that we call upon the Head to expel Percival from the school."

"And I second!" cried Parfitt.

"And I support!" exclaimed Newall.