A little later several hundred boys and girls were gathered in the auditorium of the school for the usual morning exercises. When they were over the principal, Professor McCloud, came to the edge of the platform.
“I have a very unpleasant duty to perform,” he began.
Most of the boys and girls knew what was coming. The principal never prefaced his remarks that way unless he had to expel a pupil. Ned and Bart looked over toward where Fenn sat. They wanted to see if there was any reason for Stumpy’s seeming apprehension.
“John Newton!” called Professor McCloud, and a tall youth, with eyes that squinted slightly, left his seat and shambled forward.
“It’s coming now,” whispered Fenn, and Frank Roscoe, who was sitting beside him, looked at his chum and wondered.
“Any one would think it was you who had to face the music,” declared Frank.
By this time John Newton was standing in front of the raised platform on which the principal and teachers sat during the morning exercises. He did not seem to mind the humility or disgrace of his position. He turned half around and looked toward Fenn.
“If he says anything—” began Stumpy, whispering to himself, but he did not finish the sentence for Professor McCloud was speaking.
“John Newton,” the principal said, “I am deeply grieved that I have to do this. It is very painful.” It was the same speech the pupils had heard before. The principal always used it, with such slight variations as might be necessary. “You have been dilatory in your studies. You have been insubordinate. You have played mean tricks. You have refused to mend your ways.”
The principal took a long breath. He always did at this particular point in his painful duty. But this time there was a variation from the usual scene. John Newton stepped forward and addressed the principal. It was a thing unheard of in the Darewell school.