“I am one of the fellows, old boy. I wasn’t a college man for nothing; and though it’s twenty-one years since I graduated, I haven’t forgotten college-feeling.”
“And yet,—I did hate to have you think I’d disgraced you,” said Donald, lifting honest eyes to his father’s. “I haven’t done wonders, I know, but still I haven’t done so very badly. And I suppose this will spoil my chances of getting on the team. Hang it all!”
“I’d like to see Professor Croft casually in a day or two, and find out the attitude of the Faculty in the matter. This morning was the sentence read?” And here the door shut again.
The girls looked at each other in horror. What dreadful thing had happened to this big, handsome Donald of theirs, of whom they were so proud? They did not understand all that had passed; and that their father plainly sympathised with Donald did not remove the stubborn fact that he was in some dreadful disgrace.
Eunice and Cricket looked at each other with bated breath. Marjorie flew to her mother.
“Did he say he was going to be—suspended?” faltered Eunice.
“Yes,—or rusty-coated,” said Cricket, her eyes getting large and dark. “Eunice, do you suppose it hurts?”
“I don’t know. Oh, Cricket, isn’t it too dreadful! What can he have done? But papa doesn’t seem to think he’s to blame, anyway,” added Eunice, hopefully. “He said he’d stand by him.”
“But—suspended, Eunice!” repeated Cricket, with a direful vision of a dangling rope. “It—it wouldn’t be by the neck, would it? How long would they keep him there? Oh, Eunice! my heart is all jumpy.”
“It couldn’t be by the neck,” said Eunice, positively. “Because then he’d be regularly—hung, and they only hang people for murder and those things. I’m sure of that.”