There was silence for a moment. Then Gould, in a husky voice, said:
“Come in.”
The boy was pale of face and visibly overwrought when Wade stepped in and closed the door after him.
“I know what you’ve come for,” he said, in a voice that trembled. “But I swear to you, Wade, I do not know a single thing about it. I may be a ‘mucker,’ as Birdie has called me to-night, but honestly, Wade, I’m not as low down as all that.” Gould was so sincere and so overwrought that Wade could see tears in his eyes and his voice choked.
Jeff’s chum felt dreadfully sorry for him and almost half inclined to believe that he was telling the truth.
“Look here, Gould, I’m not the only fellow who believes that you had a hand in this. They are all downstairs. Can you go down and tell them what you have told me. If you can I believe you are honest. If you can’t, why, it will—”
Gould swallowed hard, seemed to grow a shade paler, and made a valiant effort to pull himself together.
“I’ll go down. I want to tell them all that they are mistaken. I must be a mucker to have them all believe me capable of such a low-down trick.” Gould got his cap, and followed Wade out into the hall and down the stairs, and Birdie, evidently feeling very unhappy for his chum, trailed after them.
Rabbit Warren and Honey Wiggins were still sitting on the steps while Mickey Daily and the others stood under an elm tree near by. As the three boys came out of the door they all gathered in a little group at the foot of the steps expectantly. Wade stepped aside to give Gould the opportunity to face them, and the former third baseman stepped forward and stood in front of them for a moment.