He threw open his door and let the teacher pass in ahead of him.
“Now, what is it?” said Mr. Alsop, when they were inside.
“It’s this,” responded Sam. “Fowle has been trying his best to keep his probation and live up to the faculty’s orders. This morning a fellow came into his room to stir up a rough-house, and Fowle, knowing that he couldn’t keep out of it if he stayed at home, cut out and left the fellow there. He’s over in the library now.”
“Who is, Fowle or the fellow who came to rough-house?” asked Mr. Alsop, sarcastically.
“Fowle! He stopped on his way down and told me about it; I went up and—”
“And what?”
“Threw the fellow out,” continued Sam. “I had to, or he’d have smashed everything in the room.”
Mr. Alsop smiled with an air of incredulity. Sam drew himself up to his full six feet. The look of wounded self-respect that he flashed into the teacher’s face was unmistakably real.
“I suppose you don’t believe me,” he said proudly. “If you will go to the library, you’ll find Fowle there. He’ll let you into the room, and you’ll see my coat just as I dropped it.”
“I have not said that I don’t believe you. I do believe you,” interposed Mr. Alsop, hastily. “You probably would not care to tell me who this intruder was?”