Consequences. Stella knew what that meant. Smacks on the hand with a ruler. Lashes on the bottom with a cane. “Consequences” were one of the reasons she’d been glad to leave school as early as she could.
Mr. Evans rose, returning a moment later with a hand planted firmly on each boy’s shoulder. He steered them beside his desk and then resumed his seat.
“Reynolds, why don’t you tell us what happened?” the headmaster prompted.
Bobby’s face screwed up in thought.
Robin jumped in with a bright, animated voice. “We were arguing over who could run faster.”
“Symonds,” the headmaster cut him off.
“It’s true,” said Bobby in a quiet voice. “We all ran to the edge of the schoolyard and back.”
“Robin, you ran?” Mrs. Symonds asked.
“I’ve been practicing, Mum! I’m really good and I didn’t need my inhaler once,” said Robin.
“Robin and I beat everyone,” said Bobby.
“And then it was only Bobby and me left,” Robin jumped in.
“Symonds,” Mr. Evans warned again.
“Let him speak,” said Mrs. Symonds in a quiet, firm tone Stella knew only too well.
“We bet a sixpence that we could run fastest,” said Robin.
Stella bit her lip. She knew for a fact that Bobby didn’t have a sixpence to bet because, although Joan had packed Bobby’s ration book in his little case, she hadn’t left a cent to help pay for things like his books. Those fees had come out of Stella’s savings.
“I was winning,” said Bobby, a hint of pride in his voice.
“Then I tripped him,” Robin finished, matter-of-fact.
“You tripped him? Why would you do that, Robin?” his mother asked.
Robin shrugged. “He was winning.”
“That is not a gentlemanly thing to do,” Mrs. Symonds scolded.
“He didn’t trip me, I fell down,” said Bobby quickly.
“No, you didn’t. I tripped you, and then you punched me,” said Robin, as though that explained everything.
“Two teachers had to pull the boys apart from one another,” said the headmaster.
“I’m very sorry, Mr. Evans. Bobby is usually such a well-behaved boy,” said Stella.
“And so is Robin,” said Mrs. Symonds.
“I’m afraid the boys will need to be punished,” said Mr. Evans.
“If you think that you will be responsible for doling out that punishment, you are sorely mistaken, Mr. Evans,” said Mrs. Symonds, her voice polished as steel.
Mr. Evans sighed. “Mrs. Symonds, there is nothing to be gained from leniency in these sorts of affairs. Boys must learn—”
“I will not tolerate you or anyone else striking my son.” Mrs. Symonds glanced at Stella. “And given that I believe what is fair is fair, neither will Bobby face that punishment.”
“Mrs. Symonds, both boys—”
“Will be punished, you have my reassurance. Now, if that will be all.”
Sputtering, Mr. Evans half rose from his desk, but by then Mrs. Symonds had already gripped her son’s hand and was leading him out. Stella bid the headmaster a hasty goodbye and grasped Bobby by the elbow.
“Are you truly okay?” she whispered as she helped Bobby ease on his coat and collect his satchel out in the reception.
“Yes,” said Bobby, more cheerful than she’d heard him since he’d arrived at Highbury House.
“Do you like Master Robin?”
“We’re friends. He lets me play with his toys, and I help him run. He doesn’t have to stop anymore. Nanny doesn’t know, but we’re going to show her.”
Outside, Stella found Mrs. Symonds waiting with Robin, who was crouched down, examining a bug crawling on the brick wall of the school.
A lump rose up in Stella’s throat again. It wasn’t fair, but she knew what was expected—even if Robin had been the one to start the fight. He was to the manor born, and Bobby was just a little boy with a cook for an aunt.
She put a hand on her nephew’s shoulder. “Bobby, you must apologize to Master Robin and Mrs. Symonds.”
“We’re friends,” said Robin. “I’m going to teach him how to throw a cricket ball.”
“It’s true, Aunt Stella,” said Bobby.
“Well, in that case, it will be even easier for you to both apologize to one another, won’t it?” asked Mrs. Symonds.
The boys muttered hurried, insincere apologies. They weren’t sorry for what they’d done. They were just being boys.