If you come to think of it

Exceedingly so. You are certain it was James?""Perfectly. It's like daylight out of doors."Mr. Wain drummed on the table with his fingers. 　　"What shall I do?"Mr. Appleby offered no suggestion. 　　"I ought to report it to the headmaster. That is certainly the courseI should pursue.""I don't see why. It isn't like an ordinary case. You're the parent. 　　You can deal with the thing directly. If you come to think of it, aheadmaster's only a sort of middleman between boys and parents. Heplays substitute for the parent in his absence. I don't see why youshould drag in the master at all here.""There is certainly something in what you say," said Mr. Wain onreflection. 　　"A good deal. Tackle the boy when he comes in, and have it out withhim. Remember that it must mean expulsion if you report him to theheadmaster. He would have no choice. Everybody who has ever broken outof his house here and been caught has been expelled. I should stronglyadvise you to deal with the thing yourself.""I will. Yes. You are quite right, Appleby. That is a very good ideaof yours. You are not going?""Must. Got a pile of examination papers to look over. Good-night.""Good-night."Mr. Appleby made his way out of the window and through the gate intohis own territory in a pensive frame of mind. He was wondering whatwould happen. He had taken the only possible course, and, if only Wainkept his head and did not let the matter get through officially to theheadmaster, things might not be so bad for Wyatt after all. He hopedthey would not. He liked Wyatt. It would be a thousand pities, hefelt, if he were to be expelled. What would Wain do? What would_he_ do in a similar case? It was difficult to say. Probably talkviolently for as long as he could keep it up, and then consider theepisode closed. He doubted whether Wain would have the common sense todo this. Altogether it was very painful and disturbing, and he wastaking a rather gloomy view of the assistant master's lot as he satdown to finish off the rest of his examination papers. It was not allroses, the life of an assistant master at a public school. He hadcontinually to be sinking his own individual sympathies in the claimsof his duty. Mr. Appleby was the last man who would willingly havereported a boy for enjoying a midnight ramble. But he was the last manto shirk the duty of reporting him, merely because it was onedecidedly not to his taste.