s finger on the paragraph. Tom
read it over and over again; there could be no mistake of identity,
though the account was short enough.

"Thank you," said he at last, dropping the paper; "I shall go for a
walk; don't you and Herbert wait supper for me." And away he strode,
up over the moor at the back of the house, to be alone, and master his
grief if possible.

His friend looked after him, sympathizing and wondering; and, knocking
the ashes out of his pipe, walked over to Herbert. After a short
parley,[12] they walked together up to the house.

[12] #Parley#: conversation.

"I'm afraid that confounded newspaper has spoiled Brown's fun for this
trip."

"How odd that he should be so fond of his old master," said Herbert.
Yet they, also, were both public-school men.

The two, however, notwithstanding Tom's prohibition, waited supper for
him, and had everything ready when he came back some half an hour
afterward. But he could not join in their cheerful talk, and the party
was soon silent, notwithstanding the efforts of all three. One thing
only had Tom resolved, and that was that he couldn't stay in Scotland
any longer; he felt an irresistible longing to get to Rugby, and then
home, and soon broke it to the others, who had too much tact to
oppose.

So by daylight the next morning he was marching through Ross-shire,
and in the evening hit the Caledonian canal, took the next steamer,
and travelled as fast as boat and railway could carry him to the Rugby
station.

As he walked up to the town, he felt shy and afraid of being seen, and
took the back streets; why, he didn't know; but he followed his
instinct. At the school-gates he made a dead pause; there was not a
soul in the quadrangle,--all was lonely, and silent, and sad. So with
another effort he strode through the quadrangle, and into the
School-house offices.[13]

[13] #Offices#: servants' apartments.

He found the little matron in her room in deep mourning, shook her
hand, tried to talk, and moved nervously about; she was evidently
thinking of the same subject as he, but he couldn't begin talking.

"Where shall I find Thomas?" said he at last, getting desperate.

"In the servants' hall, I think, sir. But won't you take anything?"
said the matron, looking rather disappointed.

"No, thank you," said he, and strode off again to find the old verger,
who was sitting in his little den as of old, puzzling over
hieroglyphics.[14]

[14] #Hieroglyp