“Hurray! That’s what we want to know!” yelled Tom. “Come on, boys!” he added. “Back to bed. The strike is over!”
“I don’t see how,” said Jack. “He hasn’t said that Skeel will be any different.”
“Aw, can’t you see through a hole in a millstone?” asked Tom. “Can’t you see that Skeel isn’t going to be our teacher any more?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that there’s going to be a shift. No more of Skeel’s Latin for us. The doctor has seen that it won’t do, and he’s put his foot down. Skeel can’t dictate to him any more. The strike is over—we’ve won, and it will be admitted to-morrow. Come on to bed.”
“But about the eats?” suggested Bert. “I’m half starved. What about the eats?”
“Young gentlemen!” spoke Doctor Meredith again.
Instantly there was silence.
“Young gentlemen, you will return to your dormitory. But you may first stop in the dining hall.”