No, indeed," answered Norman warmly.

"But you see yourself, that where the welfare of so many is at stake,
it would be wickedness--yes, wickedness--to be silent. Could I see
that little fellow prostrated, trembling in my arms, and think of those
scamps inflicting the same on other helpless children--away from their
homes!"

"I see, I see!" said Norman, carried along by the indignation and
tenderness that agitated his father's voice in his vehemence--"it is the
only thing to be done."

"It would be sharing the guilt to hide it," said Dr. May.

"Very well," said Norman, still reluctantly. "What do you wish me to do?
You see, as dux, I know nothing about it. It happened while I was away."

"True, true," said his father. "You have learned it as brother, not as
senior boy. Yes, we had better have you out of the matter. It is I who
complain of their usage of my son."

"Thank you," said Norman, with gratitude.

"You have not told me the names of these fellows! No, I had best not
know them."

"I think it might make a difference," hesitated Norman.

"No, no, I will not hear them. It ought to make none. The fact is the
same, be they who they may."

The doctor let himself out at the garden gate, and strode off at a rapid
pace, conscious perhaps, in secret, that if he did not at once yield
to the impulse of resentment, good nature would overpower the sense of
justice. His son returned to the house with a heavy sigh, yet honouring
the generosity that had respected his scruples, when merely his own
worldly loss was involved, but set them aside when the good of others
was concerned. By-and-by Dr. May reappeared. The head-master had been
thoroughly roused to anger, and had begged at once to examine May
junior, for whom his father was now come.

Tom was quite unprepared for such formidable consequences of his
confession, and began by piteous tears and sobs, and when these had,
with some difficulty, been pacified, he proved to be really so unwell
and exhausted, that his father could not take him to Minster Street, and
was obliged to leave him to his brother's keeping, while he returned to
the school.

Upon this, Dr. Hoxton came himself, and the sisters were extremely
excited and alarmed by the intelligence that he was in the study with
papa and Tom.

Then away went the gentlemen; and Mary was again called to comfort Tom,
who, broken down into the mere longing for sympathy, sobbed out all his
troubles to her, while her e