Divining their thoughts, Bronson hastened to say:
"I hope the fact that I live with Mr. Vining will make no difference in our relations. It was arranged between mother and him that I should not be quizzed, no matter what happens at school."
"My eye! I wish I could live with the Head," lamented Shorty. "I was quizzed by either him or Gumshoe regularly once a week—if not oftener—all last year."
"We'll petition him to adopt you," cried Soda. "Who'll sign?"
But before the suggestion could be carried out, the blowing of a noon whistle sent the boys to their respective homes for dinner.
The fun with the cheese, and the escape from the Firsts, had distracted Fred's mind from the unpleasant events attendant upon his arrival at school, but as he approached his unpretentious but comfortable home, his rival's remarks recurred to him. Consequently it was a very sober boy who entered the dining room of the Markham homestead.
Instantly realizing that her son's quietness—in striking contrast to his usual good spirits—betokened something serious, Mrs. Markham was about to ask the cause when Fred forestalled her by inquiring:
"Where's father?"
"He's gone to Manchester."
"Why?"