God bless the lad!" Dr.Blundell uttered an exclamation that did not sound like a blessing.
"Look here, Birch," he said, "this is no time to mince matters.

If the boy can't be stopped--and under the circumstances he's got us on toast--he can't cry off active service--_as_ the boy can't be stopped, you must just keep this news to yourself." "But I must tell Sir Timothy!" "You must _not_ tell Sir Timothy." "Though all my sympathies are with the boy--for I'm a patriot first, and a parson afterwards--God forgive me for saying so," said Birch, in a trembling voice, "yet I can't take the responsibility of keeping Peter's father in ignorance of his action.

I see exactly what you mean, of course.

Sir Timothy will make unpleasantness, and very likely telegraph to his commanding officer, and disgrace the poor boy before his comrades; and shout at me, a thing I can't bear; and you kindly think to spare me--and Peter.

But I can't take the responsibility of keeping it dark, for all that," said the canon, shaking his head regretfully.
"_I_ take the responsibility," said the doctor, shortly.