ill, under the direction of the matron, he
had placed it on a bed in the sick dormitory.

"A doctor must be fetched," said the matron, as Hibbert's eyes remained
closed, in spite of her efforts to bring him back to consciousness.

"Waterman's gone for Dr. Clack."

"That's right. The poor little fellow's in a bad way. Oh, you boys--you
boys!" came in a sigh from the matron's lips. "Always in mischief. Who
pushed him into the river?"

"Nobody pushed him. He fell in, so far as I could see."

Paul did not tell her that two more Gargoyles had fallen into the river
at the same time, for fear of alarming her still more.

"Why didn't you stop him from playing about on the river? You're old
enough to know better," said Mrs. Trounce wrathfully.

Paul stood silent under this rebuke. He had not explained all the
circumstances of the accident--so far, at least, as he knew them--for
fear of implicating the other boys. He had caught a glimpse of the
savage "get-up" of Baldry and his companions, and the black stains on
Hibbert's face, which had only been partially washed away by the water.
He guessed, therefore, that there was more in the accident than at first
met the eye.

"If he dies we shall have the police here a-makin' all sorts of
inquiries," continued the angry matron. "And I shouldn't wonder if they
took you off to the lock-up, and brought you up before a judge and jury.
And serve you right, ses I. You elder boys want a lesson. Instead of
stopping the little fellow from playing on the river, you encouraged
him, I expect. I know the way you big boys have. You use the paws of the
little ones to pull out the roast chestnuts. It's disgraceful, I call
it."

Thus the matron poured out the vials of her wrath on Paul's head, while
she busied herself at the same time in doing all she could to restore
the patient to consciousness. Her words fell unheeded on Paul's ears. He
was watching the face of Hibbert, and wondering whether the eyes would
ever open again, and look up to him as they had looked up to him on that
day when he had put his hand timidly on his shoulder and whispered:

"You look so wretched and miserable I could not help coming to you.
You're not angry with me, are you?"

CHAPTER XXVII

THE OLD FLAG

As the thought went through Paul's mind, the door opened, and Mr. Weevil
entered. To Paul's wonder the master fell on his knees beside the bed,
and, taking Hibbert's hand in his, murmured:

"Tim, Tim,