"The kite did it," answered one boy, who stood behind some others.
"Whose kite was it?"
At this there was a silence, no one caring to tell upon Nat Poole, who stood with the kite string still in his hand and his mouth wide open in amazement and terror.
"I say, whose kite was it?" bawled the irate teacher, and then, as he rubbed the water from his eyes, he caught sight of the kite and the string. "Ha! so it was yours, Master Poole!"
"I—er—I didn't mean to do it," stammered Nat Poole. "The—the kite came down all of a sudden."
"Infamous! Look at me! Look at my hat!" Job Haskers caught up the battered tile. "This is an outrage!"
"Really, I didn't mean to do it, Mr. Haskers," pleaded Poole. He was fairly shaking in his shoes. "The—the kite got the best of me!"
"A likely story! You boys are forever trying to play your tricks on me! I know you! You'll pay for this silk hat!"
"Yes, sir, I'll do that," answered Nat, eagerly.
"And you'll pay for having this suit of clothes cleaned."