us of him; the witnesses, a sheepish
crew; the school-porter waiting for his prey; old Mr. Caryll coughing
nervously and apparently on the verge of tears himself; the odious Paul
Pry of a Secretary nibbling his pen; and in the background other masters
waiting with favourable or damning testimony.

The drama of gloating authority shook Michael to the very foundation of
his being, and he came rapidly into the middle of the room, came right
up to the Headmaster, until he felt engulfed in the black silk gown, and
at last said slowly and with simple conviction:

"I think you're all making a mistake."

When he had spoken Michael could have kicked himself for not shouting
furiously the torrid denunciations which had come surging up for
utterance. Then he immediately began to talk again, to his own great
surprize, calmly and very reasonably.

"I know these kids--these two boys, I mean--quite well. It's impossible
for any of this to be true. I've seen them a lot this term--practically
every day. Really, sir, you'll make a terrible mistake if you expel
them. They're awfully decent little chaps. They are really, sir. Of
course they're too frightened now to say anything for themselves. It's
not fair for everybody to be set at them like this."

Michael looked despairingly at the masters assembled.

"And these other boys who've been brought in to tell what they know.
Why, they're frightened too. They'd say anything. Why don't you, why
don't you----"

Michael looked round in despair, stammered, broke down, and then to his
own eternal chagrin burst into tears. He moved hastily over to the
window, striving to pull himself together, seeing through an
overpowering blur the great green field in the garish sunlight. Yet his
tears, shameful to him, may have turned the scale, for one by one the
masters came forward with eager testimony of good; and with every word
of praise the tears rushed faster and faster to Michael's eyes. Then he
heard old Caryll's rasping cough and broken benignant sentences, which
with all their memories lulled his emotion to quietude again.

"Hope you'll bring it in non probatum, Headmaster"--cough--cough--"good
boys both "--cough--cough--"sure it's a mistake--Fane's a good boy
too--idle young rascal--but a good heart"--cough--cough--"had him under
me for a year--know him well----"

Dr. Brownjohn, with a most voluminous wave, dismissed the matter.
Everyone, even the Paul Pry of a Secretary, went out of the r