That sign of courage in real danger ennobled her among girls.  The name Browny was put aside for a respectful Aminta.  Big and bright events to come out in the world were hinted, from the love of such a couple.  The boys were not ashamed to speak the very word love.  How he does love that girl!  Well, and how she loves him!  She did, but the boys had to be seeing her look at Matey if they were to put the girl on some balanced equality with a fellow she was compelled to love.  It seemed to them that he gave, and that she was a creature carried to him, like driftwood along the current of the flood, given, in spite of herself.  When they saw those eyes of hers they were impressed with an idea of her as a voluntary giver too; pretty well the half to the bargain; and it confused their notion of feminine inferiority.  They resolved to think her an exceptional girl, which, in truth, they could easily do, for none but an exceptional girl could win Matey to love her.

Since nothing appeared likely to happen at the school, they speculated upon what would occur out in the world, and were assisted to conjecture, by a rumour, telling of Aminta Farrell’s aunt as a resident at Dover.  Those were days when the benevolently international M. de Porquet had begun to act as interpreter to English schools in the portico of the French language; and under his guidance it was asked, in contempt of the answer, Combien de postes d’ici a Douvres?  But, accepting the rumour as a piece of information, the answer became important.  Ici was twenty miles to the north-west of London.  How long would it take Matey to reach Donvres?  Or at which of the combien did he intend to waylay and away with Aminta?  The boys went about pounding at the interrogative French phrase in due sincerity, behind the burlesque of traveller bothering coachman.  Matey’s designs could be finessed only by a knowledge of his character:  that he was not the fellow to give up the girl he had taken to; and impediments might multiply, but he would bear them down.  Three days before the break-up of the school another rumour came tearing through it:  Aminta’s aunt had withdrawn her from Miss Vincent’s.  And now rose the question, two-dozen-mouthed, Did Matey know her address at Douvres?  His face grew stringy and his voice harder, and his eyes ready to burst from a smother of fire.  All the same, he did his work:  he was the good old fellow at games, considerate in school affairs, kind to the youngsters; he was heard to laugh.  He liked best the company of his little French friend from Orthez, over whose shoulder his hand was laid sometimes as they strolled and chatted in two languages.  He really went a long way to make French fellows popular, and the boys were sorry that little Emile was off to finish his foreign education in Germany.  His English was pretty good, thanks to Matey.  He went away, promising to remember Old England, saying he was French first, and a Briton next.  He had lots of plunk; which accounted for Matey’s choice of him as a friend among the juniors.