One day, greatly to my surprise, when the Henniker was away superintending the flogging of Flanagan for some offence or other, Hawkesbury came over and sat beside me.
"Oh," said he, softly, "Batchelor, I've been wanting to tell you how sorry I am I helped get you into your scrape. I didn't mean--I was only anxious for you to know the rule. I hope you'll forgive me?" and he held out his hand.
What could I do? Perhaps he was telling the truth after all, and we had thought too badly of him. And when a big boy comes and asks pardon of a small one, it is always embarrassing for the latter. So I gave him my hand, and told him I was sure he did not mean it, and that it did not matter at all.
"Thanks, Batchelor," he said, smiling quite gratefully. "It's a relief to me."
Then I watched him go on what I knew was a similar errand to Smith, but, as I expected, his reception in that quarter was not quite so flattering as it had been in my case. I could see my chum's eyes fire up as he saw the elder boy approach, and a flush come over his pale cheeks. I watched Hawkesbury blandly repeating his apology, and then suddenly, to my astonishment and consternation, I saw Smith rise in his seat and throw himself furiously upon his enemy. Hawkesbury was standing near a low form, and in the sudden surprise caused by this attack he tripped over it and fell prone on the floor, just as Miss Henniker re-entered.
There was a brief pause of universal astonishment, then the Henniker demanded, "What is this? Tell me. What is all this, Hawkesbury?"
Hawkesbury had risen to his feet, smiling as ever, and brushing the dust from his coat, replied softly, "Nothing, really nothing, ma'am. I fell down, that's all."
"I knocked you down!" shouted Smith, panting like a steam-engine, and trembling with excitement.
"Oh," said Hawkesbury, kindly, though not quite liking the downright way in which the adventure had been summed up. "It was only play, Miss Henniker. My fault as much as Smith's. He never meant to be so rough. Really."
"Silence, both!" said Miss Henniker. "Smith, follow me!"
"Oh, Miss Henniker, please don't punish him," said Hawkesbury.
"Silence," replied the Henniker, icily. "Come, Smith."
Miss Henniker had the wonderful art of knowing by instinct who was the culprit in cases like this. She was never troubled with a doubt as to her verdict being a right one; and really it saved her a great deal of trouble.