"Frank! I say: I know: tear up your handkerchiefs. I'll give you some
of mine to make up. Tie the bits together so as to make a long string,
and let it down. Frank!"
"Go away, you miserable, cowardly sneak!" I cried passionately; "and
never dare to speak to me again."
He was silent for a few minutes, as if stunned by my fierce words. Then
he began again.
"Oh, I say," he whispered, "don't turn on a chap like that when he was
going to stick to you. I couldn't help it."
I knew that the temptation had been too strong for him, but I was none
the less bitter against him, and my wrath reached its climax soon after,
when he said eagerly,--
"I say, Frank, I am indeed so sorry! and I'd have said it was I did it,
if it would have got you off; but they wouldn't have believed me."
_Bang_!
That was the window, which, in my passion at his coolness, I shut down
with all my might, and then went and threw myself on the bed, with my
head aching violently, and the sensation of misery increasing, so that
at times I felt as if I must try and break open the door, creep down in
the night, and run away somewhere--anywhere, so as to end the trouble I
was in.
I never knew when, but I suppose the throbbing in my head must have
lulled a little, and I once more dropped off to sleep, to wake up with a
start in the darkness, wondering where I was, and whether I had been
having a confused dream about a watch being stolen, and some one getting
into trouble. Who it was I could not quite tell, for my head ached, I
felt sick, and everything was confused and strange.
While I was trying hard to collect myself, I suppose I must have dropped
to sleep again, for when I next opened my eyes, the sun was shining
brightly, and, light-hearted and eager, I jumped off the bed to run and
open the window, but, as my feet touched the floor, memory began to come
back with its heavy load of misery.
Why was I dressed even to my boots? Why was I in a fresh room? Where
was Tom Mercer?
The answers to my questions came, and I stood there with a sinking
sensation of misery, increasing moment by moment, till with a sigh I
roused myself a little and went toward the window.
"Where is Tom Mercer?" I said to myself again, with a bitter laugh.
"Safe, and I am to take the blame for his miserable acts. Where's Tom
Mercer?"
I was opening the window as I spoke, and there he was hiding behind a
clump of Portugal laurel, where he had been watching, quite ready to
spring up eagerly now, and begin to make signs, as he showed me a school
bag with something heavy inside.
I knew what it meant, of course, but the bitter feeling against him was
too intense for me to accept aid in any form, and I drew back without
noticing him further; and, as I did so, my head felt clearer for my
night's rest, and I began to see the course that was open to me.
I could not turn upon Tom and become his accuser, for, if the crime was
brought home to him, it would be terrible, and I knew I should never
forgive myself for saving my own credit by denouncing my companion. No;
I had fully made up my mind, in those few minutes since rising, to deny
firmly and defiantly the charge of taking the watch. Even if they
expelled me, and I was sent away, they might call it in disgrace, but it
would not be. And even if Doctor Browne and the masters believed me
guilty, I knew there was some one at home who would take my word at
once, indignant at such a charge being brought against me.
Yes, that was my course, plain enough: to maintain my innocence firmly,
but to say no more. They might find out about Tom Mercer. I would not
betray him.
A stubborn feeling of determination came over me now, and all seemed to
be as plain as could be. I was actually beginning to wonder that I
should have taken it all so much to heart. "She will believe me," I
said; "and they will have to at last."
I had just arrived at this point in reasoning out my position, when I
was brought to a sudden check by a fresh thought--one which made me turn
cold. It was, "What will uncle say?"
I was thrown back into a state of the greatest misery again directly by
this. For my uncle was so stern a disciplinarian that in advance I saw
with horror the impression such a charge hanging over me would make upon
one who had so often impressed upon me the duties of him who would grow
up to be a gentleman, and who was to occupy the position of an officer
in a gallant service.
"Shall I dare to hold out?" I asked myself; "shall I be able to clear
myself without accusing Tom?"
I started, for there was a thud at my window, as if something moderately
soft had struck the frame.
But I could see nothing, and I was sinking back into my musing fit
again, when something struck me on the back, and then fell with a dull
sound upon the floor and rolled under the wash-stand.
I stooped and picked it up, to find that it was one of the solid
indiarubber balls we used for our games at rounders, and tightly
fastened around it was a piece of thin twine, the strong, light string
we used for kites. The twine hung out of the window, and I knew that
Mercer had thrown it up, and the second time sent it right in at the
open sash,--no difficult task for him, as he was one of the most skilful
throwers we had in the school, and he could generally hit a boy running
fast when we were engaged in a game, while at cricket, the way in which
he could field a ball, and send it up to the wicket-keeper, made him a
special acquisition in a game.
"I'm not going to be bribed into silence!" I cried; "I'd sooner
starve;" and, going quickly to the window, I hurled the ball down,
before drawing back, and then approaching the opening again to peer down
from behind one of the white dimity curtains, where, unseen myself, I
could watch Mercer slowly winding up the string till the indiarubber
ball reached his hands, when, after a doleful look up, he ducked down
behind the bushes with the school bag and walked cautiously away.