Digby very soon rose from his knees.
"I am much obliged to those who cried shame," he said, firmly. "It is a
shame. It is an insult, not to me, but to Him to whom I was trying to
pray. To morrow night I shall know most of the voices of our fellows,
and I am resolved not to be interrupted. Now, make as much row as you
like; I can sleep through it all; but you remember what I said."
Digby began undressing, and stowing his clothes away at the head of his
bed, so that they could not be removed, jumped into bed.
Just then an usher entered, to put out the light. It was the French
master, Digby concluded, for one or two of the boys exchanged
salutations with him, calling him Monsieur Guillaume. "Bon nuit, bon
nuit--va dormir, mes enfants." There was a great deal of chattering and
noise as he went out.
"Remember," said Digby, in a firm voice; and then put his head on the
pillow.
"Oh, he's a crowing little cock," cried some one. "A regular bantam,"
observed another. "I wonder if there are more like him at Bloxholme
Hall?" exclaimed a third.
But Digby made no answer. Similar remarks were made for some minutes,
but he kept silence, till his persecutors began to grow sleepy. One
after the other they dropped off, and so did he, at last; and never
slept more soundly in his life.
If all right-thinking boys would exercise the same firmness and
resolution as Digby did on this occasion, the better disposed would soon
gain the upper hand, and there would be much less bullying and general
bad conduct than is too often to be found even at the best-regulated
schools.