“Westby,” he said, “do you think that considering the circumstances three sheets is excessive?”
Westby looked surprised; then he shrugged his shoulders.
“I’m not asking any favors,” he replied.
Irving laughed. “No,” he said, “I see you’re not. But I’m afraid I must deny you the pleasure of martyrdom. I’ll ask you to take a note to Mr. Elwood—he’s in charge of the Study, isn’t he? I’ll tell him that you’re to write a sheet and a half instead of three sheets.”
He drew a note-book from his pocket and tore out one of the pages. Westby looked at him curiously—as if in an effort to determine just how poor-spirited this sudden surrender was. Irving spoke again before writing.
“By the way, will you please ask Collingwood to come here?”
When Westby returned with Collingwood, Irving had the note written and handed it to him; there was no excuse for Westby to linger. He went over and waited by the door, while Irving said,—
“Collingwood, why didn’t you come up and ask me to reduce your report? Didn’t you think it was unfair?”
“Yes,” Collingwood answered promptly.
“Well, then—why didn’t you come to me and say so?”