“Well,” he said, “you had such fun in soaking me that I wasn’t going to give you the additional satisfaction of seeing me cry baby.”
“I’ll learn something about boys sometime—if you fellows will keep on educating me,” observed Irving. “I think your performance of yesterday deserves about a sheet; we’ll make it that.”
He scribbled a note and handed it to the boy.
“Thank you, Mr. Upton.” Collingwood tucked the note into his pocket with a friendly smile, and then joined Westby.
“Knock you down to half a sheet?” asked Westby, as they departed in the direction of the Study, where they were to perform their tasks.
“No; a sheet.”
“Mine’s one and a half now. What got into him?”
“He’s not without sense,” said Collingwood.
“Ho!” Westby was derisive. “He’s soft. He got scared. He knew he’d gone too far—and he was afraid to stand by his guns.”