Pemberton wavered—­he was drawn in different ways.  The severely correct thing would have been to tell the boy that such a matter was none of his business and bid him go on with his lines.  But they were really too intimate for that; it was not the way he was in the habit of treating him; there had been no reason it should be.  On the other hand Morgan had quite lighted on the truth—­he really shouldn’t be able to keep it up much longer; therefore why not let him know one’s real motive for forsaking him?  At the same time it wasn’t decent to abuse to one’s pupil the family of one’s pupil; it was better to misrepresent than to do that.  So in reply to his comrade’s last exclamation he just declared, to dismiss the subject, that he had received several payments.

“I say—­I say!” the boy ejaculated, laughing.

“That’s all right,” Pemberton insisted.  “Give me your written rendering.”

Morgan pushed a copybook across the table, and he began to read the page, but with something running in his head that made it no sense.  Looking up after a minute or two he found the child’s eyes fixed on him and felt in them something strange.  Then Morgan said:  “I’m not afraid of the stern reality.”

“I haven’t yet seen the thing you are afraid of—­I’ll do you that justice!”

This came out with a jump—­it was perfectly true—­and evidently gave Morgan pleasure.  “I’ve thought of it a long time,” he presently resumed.

“Well, don’t think of it any more.”

The boy appeared to comply, and they had a comfortable and even an amusing hour.  They had a theory that they were very thorough, and yet they seemed always to be in the amusing part of lessons, the intervals between the dull dark tunnels, where there were waysides and jolly views.  Yet the morning was brought to a violent as end by Morgan’s suddenly leaning his arms on the table, burying his head in them and bursting into tears:  at which Pemberton was the more startled that, as it then came over him, it was the first time he had ever seen the boy cry and that the impression was consequently quite awful.

The next day, after much thought, he took a decision and, believing it to be just, immediately acted on it.  He cornered Mr. and Mrs. Moreen again and let them know that if on the spot they didn’t pay him all they owed him he wouldn’t only leave their house but would tell Morgan exactly what had brought him to it.

“Oh you haven’t told him?” cried Mrs. Moreen with a pacifying hand on her well-dressed bosom.

“Without warning you?  For what do you take me?” the young man returned.