"Take your seat," commanded the teacher. "Next boy forward!" One by one the boys walked up to receive their punishment. All took it bravely.
When, at last, the boys had all been attended to, Mr. Johnston paused for rest. "I shall now begin on the girls," he said, "but before administering punishment I am going to give the guilty boy, or girl, one more chance to confess. Will the one who put the sulphur in the stove stand up?"
As before, nobody moved.
Mr. Johnston smiled. "Very well. The girl with the handkerchief to her eyes, the one dressed in white and blue, five seats down, will come forward for punishment."
Billy felt his blood run cold. He could not believe his ears. The girl dressed in white and blue! Why, that was she—his angel—his light—his everything. And she was crying now. She was standing up, moving forward.
Like a flash Billy was on his feet. "Stop!" he cried, his voice ringing out like a challenge. "You don't whip her if I know it."
For the second time that morning Mr. Johnston received a violent shock to his dignity. Such rank insubordination he had never experienced before. The black eyes turned on Billy fairly darting sparks. "Take your seat, you impudent boy!" he thundered, "I see I have been too lenient with you. When I am through with the girls I shall flog you until you cry for mercy, and with you the boy who threw that bottle."
Billy was running up the aisle.
"Please sir, don't whip her," he said, pleadingly. "I'll own up. It was me that put the sulphur in the stove."
"You?" gasped Mr. Johnston. "You coward! to let your companions be punished for your despicable act. Oh," he exulted, removing his coat and rolling up his sleeves, "won't I make you pay for playing the sneak?"