There
was no mistaking that they were eager to offer reparation. Tom Channing
innocent all this time! How should they make it up to him? He turned to
resume his seat, but Huntley slipped out of the place he occupied as
the head of the school, and would have pushed Tom into it. There was
some slight commotion, and the master lifted his spectacles.
"Silence, there! Huntley, what are you about? Keep your seat."
"No, sir," said Huntley, advancing a step forward. "I beg your pardon,
sir, but the place is no longer mine. I never have considered it mine
legally, and I will, with your permission, resign it to its rightful
owner. The place is Channing's; I have only occupied it for him."
He quietly pushed Tom into it as he spoke, and the school, finding
their voices, and ignoring the presence of the master and of Lady
Augusta, sprang from their desks at one bound and seized upon Tom,
wishing him luck, asking him to be a good old fellow and forgive them.
"Long live Tom Channing, the senior of Helstonleigh school!" shouted
bold Bywater; and the boys, thus encouraged, took up the shout, and the
old walls echoed it. "Long live Tom Channing, the senior of
Helstonleigh school!"
Before the noise had died away, Lady Augusta was gone, and another had
been added to the company, in the person of Mr. Huntley. "Oh," he said,
taking in a rapid glance of affairs: "I see it is all right. Knowing
how thoughtless Harry is, I feared he might not recollect to do an act
of justice.
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