“Blake,” he said, clearing his throat, “come up here.”
Bobby went up and stood in front of the desk.
“Blake,” went on Mr. Leith, “I did a great injustice to you a few weeks ago, and I want to apologize to you before the whole class. I have found out the real culprit. I know the name of the boy who threw the egg into the electric fan.”
There was a buzz of wild excitement in the class, and Hicksley, together with his two cronies, flushed red and grew pale in turn.
“That will do, Blake,” Mr. Leith went on. “You may go to your seat.”
Bobby retired, murmuring something, he did not know what.
“Hicksley, come here,” commanded the teacher. “And you, Bronson, and Jinks, come along.”
The three of them, with shuffling steps and hang-dog looks, walked slowly up the aisle.
“Hicksley,” said Mr. Leith severely, “you said at the time this thing happened that you actually saw Blake throw the egg. I do not want to condemn you without your being heard, and I am going to give you this chance to tell the truth. Are you willing to stand by your statement, or do you wish to take it back?”
Hicksley hesitated for a moment and then decided to bluff it out.