"Well, you'll join the game now, won't you? Come on, we'll make room for you."
"No, I don't care about it to-day," I said, for I began to feel a kind of dizziness in my head. I had felt sick for the last hour, but this pain in my head was something quite new, and I began to fear I should be ill. Certainly I had no inclination to join in the mêlée over the ball, and only wanted to be left alone.
The miserable day came to an end at last, and I was glad enough to go home and go to bed, and I fancy Tom and one or two of the others felt as bad as I did, although nobody complained or even owned to having a headache, for fear Swain should suspect us when he heard of the robbery. Robbery! what an ugly word that is! But of course it isn't as though we really stole things; we only took the pies for fun, which is different from common stealing, only we missed the fun altogether this time.
We expected to hear all about the affair when we came home—that the cook had gone into hysterics and the governor fainted, or something like that; but we did not hear a single word, and of course we couldn't ask.
Yesterday we did hear a little bit from the housemaid; but she didn't know who the governor suspected. She thought it was burglars, and of course we said it must be, and sent the whisper through the school that burglars had broken into the pantry.
One of the juniors was so frightened at the word "robbers," that he went and asked Swain if he thought they would come any more, or whether he had better write and ask his mamma to send for him.
"Who has been telling you this tale about burglars and robbers? It is nothing to be afraid of. Burglars such as you are thinking of don't come to steal pies and custards. We shall find out the thief or thieves very soon, I have no doubt."
I have been wondering ever since I heard this whether Swain suspects us after all, or whether he just said it to pacify the youngster. Not a word has been said about it by the governor, and so I am inclined to think we shall get off without any further punishment. It will only be fair after all, for if the governor knew how his precious pies spoiled all our holiday, and how miserable and sick they made us feel, he wouldn't want to serve us out any more by way of making us remember it. I'm not likely to forget or repeat it again, for a day like that is worse than the hardest grind at Euclid.