oom, and as
the door closed Michael heard Mr. Caryll addressing the victims.

"Now then, don't cry any more, you young boobies."

Michael's thoughts followed them upstairs to the jolly class-room, and
he almost smiled at the imagination of Mr. Caryll's entrance and the
multitudinous jokes that would demonstrate his relief at his pupils'
rescue. Michael recovered from his dream to find the Headmaster speaking
to him in his most rumbling bass.

"I don't know why I allowed you to interfere in this disgraceful affair,
boy. Um?"

"No, sir," Michael agreed.

"But since you are here, I will take the opportunity of warning you that
the company you keep is very vile."

Michael looked apprehensive.

"If you think nothing is known of your habits out of school, you are
much mistaken. I will not have any boy at my school frequenting the
house of that deboshed nincompoop Wilmot."

Dr. Brownjohn's voice was now so deep that it vibrated in the pit of
Michael's stomach like the diapason of the school organ.

"Give up that detestable association of mental impostors and be a boy
again. You have disappointed me during the whole of your career; but
you're a winning boy. Um? Go back to your work."

Michael left the august room with resolves swaying in his brain,
wondering what he could do to repay the Old Man. It was too late to take
a very high place in the summer examinations. Yet somehow, so passionate
was his gratitude, he managed to come out third.

Michael never told his mother about his adventure, but in the reaction
against Wilmot and all that partook of decadence, and in his pleasure at
having done something, however clumsily, he felt a great wish to include
his mother in his emotion of universal love.

"Where are we going these holidays?" he asked.

"I thought perhaps you'd like to stay at your monastery again," said
Mrs. Fane. "I was thinking of going abroad."

Michael's face fell, and his mother was solicitously penitent.

"My dearest boy, I never dreamed you would want to be with me. You've
always gone out on Sundays."

"I know, I'm sorry, I won't again," Michael assured her.

"And I've made my arrangements now. I wish I'd known. But why shouldn't
you go and see Stella? It seems a pity that you and she should grow up
so much apart."

"Well, I will, if you like," said Michael.

"Dearest boy, what has happened to you? You are so agreeable," exclaimed
Mrs. Fane.

In the end it was arranged that Michael sho