“And what is it all about? and will it hurt? Oh, Don, tell us!” and Eunice threw a pair of imploring arms around his neck, while Cricket, with a gush of defensive affection, hugged one of his legs.
“We’ll stand by you, too, Don, whatever it is, and papa will, for he said so. Don, don’t go back to that nasty old college, ever. Go to Princeton. It has such pretty colors. I always loved that black and orange,” urged Eunice, tightening her clasp.
Donald, much touched, swept both his loyal little sisters into his muscular arms, and sat down on the window-seat.
“See here, you monkeys, I didn’t mean to tell you, but I must now. There was a jolly row on Wednesday night, and one of the professors caught on, and about twenty of us were hauled up. We’re suspended for the rest of the year,—that is, can’t go back till college opens in the fall. We’re not going to be hung, as you evidently think, if that’s what you’re fussing about.”
“Oh, is that all?”
“But Don, you didn’t do anything?”
“And if you’re rusty-coated, will that hurt you?”
“We thought maybe you’d be tarred and feathered.”
“And suspended! I did think it was some kind of hanging up.”
“Why don’t you tell the President you didn’t do anything?”