Jack went forward, took the copy of the poem, looked it over carefully a few moments, and suddenly said:
"The opening lines are not in my handwriting, Doctor. It is similar, but not the same. These lines have been inserted by some one else. I never put them in. You may see that they are at the top of the page, which had a wide margin. All the other pages had, but this one now has not. The title has been erased and written in at the top. Some one has tampered with the manuscript. You can see for yourself, Doctor."
"Yes, but who would do this, Sheldon? You certainly do not accuse me of doing it? Or any of the professors?"
"Hardly, Doctor," with a smile, "but some one has done it."
"But why should they, Sheldon, especially as both poems are your own? What reason would any one have to do this? If the inserted lines belonged to another poem so that you might be accused of plagiarism, then there would be some color to this argument, but the whole thing is yours."
"It is strange," said Jack, going back to his seat, all the boys seeming to be greatly puzzled, and talking to each other about the matter in low and earnest tones.
"I will now read the poem which took second prize," said the doctor, and proceeded to read Percival's poem, very much to the latter's surprise and delight.
"Well, I came somewhere near you, at any rate, Jack," he said, "but
I never expected to come in second."
There were other poems read, one receiving a prize and the best honorable mention, the boys being thoroughly satisfied with the awards, and cheering the winners loudly.
Jack was still puzzled about his poem, but he said nothing, having certain ideas about the matter, but not caring to make them known at the time, preferring to wait till he had more information.