“He advised me to tell you about it,” returned Teddy simply.
Involuntarily, Mr. Marsh’s glance traveled down the line until it rested upon Harry Harding. A deep flush rose to Harry’s face, but he met the quizzical glance with steady eyes.
“Well, Burke, I’m glad to know you are a manly boy, at least,” asserted Mr. Marsh, “but I must know who the other boy is. Someone else in this room is more at fault than you. Still, if he won’t own up to his part of this affair, and you won’t give me his name, then you will have to bear your punishment and his too.” Mr. Marsh spoke with a decision that made Teddy’s heart sink.
“I’m—sorry—I can’t tell you, sir,” he stammered.
“I’m sorry, too,” returned Mr. Marsh, gravely, “because I shall——”
There was a sudden movement at one end of the line. A tall boy came awkwardly forward.
“I’m the ki—boy that threw that ball. I’m not going to let him be blamed. It was my fault.” The speaker’s face was lit with a gleam of positive admiration as he jerked his head in Teddy’s direction with the word “him.”
A murmur of astonishment went up and down the line.
“It was just the way he says it happened. I wasn’t goin’ to really throw the ball. It went before I could stop it. I’m sorry.” The tall boy gulped and looked miserably at Mr. Marsh.