lways understood Dr Winter
was head master here, and not the boy Mansfield."

"You prefer to appeal to Winter, then?"

"Dear me, no! Dr Winter is so well drilled into what he has to say and
do here, that it would be a pity to put him to unnecessary trouble."

"You can do as you like," said the Captain, drily. "There's to be a
monitors' meeting at twelve. If you like to come and resign, do so; or
if you like to come and hear your name taken off the list, you can."

And Mansfield turned on his heel, and went Pledge did not often fly into
a passion; but as he locked his door, and heard the Captain's steps
retreating down the passage, he gave vent to a fit of uncontrolled fury.

He was a coward. He knew it. He knew he dared not meet the enemy face
to face, and fight for his good name in Templeton. He knew everyone
hated him--everyone except, perhaps, Heathcote. And Heathcote was
drifting from him, too. Should he appeal to Winter? He dared not.
Should he let himself be expelled from the monitorship? If he could
have counted on any one who would feel an atom of regret at the step, he
might have faced it. But there was no one. Should he resign? and so
relieve the monitors of their difficulty, and own himself beaten? There
was nothing else to do. Of the three alternatives it was the least
dangerous. So he sat down and wrote:--

"Dear Mansfield,--As you appear to have set your mind upon my resigning
my monitorship, and as I am always anxious to oblige the disinterested
wishes of those who beg as a favour for what they know would come
without asking, I take the opportunity to carry out what I have long
contemplated, and beg to resign a post of which I have never been proud.
At the same time I must ask you to accept my resignation from the
Football Club, and the Harriers.--Yours truly, P. Pledge."

It was a paltry letter, and Pledge knew it. But he could not help
writing it, and only wished the words would show half the venom in which
his thoughts were steeped. The sentence about the Football Club and the
Harriers was a sudden inspiration. Templeton should have something to
regret in the loss of him. He knew they would find it hard to fill his
place in the fields, however easily they might do without him in school.

Mansfield read the letter contemptuously, as did all the monitors who
had the real good of Templeton at heart. A few pulled long faces, and
wondered how the Fifteen was to get on without its