“Surely not,” came in a chorus.
“The strike ends when he stops imposing double lessons on us for no reason at all, but because he is ugly,” went on Tom. “How about that?”
“We’re with you!”
“And if he doesn’t give in,” proceeded our hero, “we’ll——”
“Burn Skeel in effigy, after we hang him!” came the cry from some one.
“That’s it,” assented Tom, glad to see that his chums were with him.
They filed into the gymnasium, and the buzz of talk continued until some one announced that Doctor Meredith and Professor Skeel were approaching.
“Ah, young gentlemen, good afternoon!” greeted the head master, as he walked in and took his stand on the platform, where the secretaries and officers of the various athletic committees presided, when there was a class or school session. Professor Skeel, with a grim look in his face, followed, and sat down.
“I am informed that you are on a strike,” began Doctor Meredith. “Very interesting, I’m sure—I mean of course it is altogether wrong,” he added hastily. “You should have tried arbitration first. However, since you have decided to strike, I am glad to be able to speak to you—to reason with you.