“Don’t you be too sure, Hal,” said Jack. “Bony looks as if he’d be ready for anything when his blood is up. He’s just made up his mind that he is not to be interfered with.”
“But Dr. Flemming doesn’t allow whipping,” said Alex. “Bony’s much more likely to report him. It’s mean to come down on Max, though, for such a little thing, when we’ve all been as bad as he.”
“Or would have been, if we’d been bright enough and had dared,” added Harry, unconsciously striking the two main causes of Max’s being singled out to be the one in disgrace.
“The truth of it is,” said Louis; “Bony has been holding off, this long time, and now at last, after we’ve walked all over him, the worm has turned, so I shouldn’t much wonder if he was pretty severe. I only wish it hadn’t been Max. A little discipline wouldn’t hurt Smythe or some of those fellows, they’re such sneaks; but Max—”
“Here he comes!” interrupted Paul excitedly. “Now we shall hear all about it.”
“Well,” remarked Max coolly, as he came into the room; “this is quite an unexpected pleasure; but I am delighted to see you, gentlemen, I am sure.” And with a low bow of mock ceremony, he crossed the room and sat down on the bed.
The boys waited eagerly to hear him speak, for they felt sure that he would have an interesting story to tell; but Max held his peace. His cheeks were flushed, and his eyes looked a deeper, clearer blue than ever; but otherwise there was nothing to show that anything unusual had occurred. At length Louis’s impatience could be restrained no longer.
“Say, Max, what did he do to you?” he asked anxiously.
“Who?” inquired Max, with a preoccupied air.
“Oh come, Max, that’s no go,” interrupted Jack. “Bony, of course. Is he going to report you?”