Butts. That’s it, doctor,—assault with intent to drown. It’s a diabolical conspiracy against the law.
Doctor. Harry, Master Hastings, Master Winders, I am waiting for an explanation.
Harry. Father, that man charged three of your pupils with falsehood: we couldn’t stand that. He was hot and angry.
Bob. And so we thought we’d just cool him off, that’s all.
Butts. But they’re a pack of jackanapes, violating the law, and then denying it.
Doctor. Gently, Mr. Butts. My boys, however mischievous they may be, are ready to own their faults without resorting to falsehood. What is your complaint?
Butts. They broke into my office, insulted me by placing a stuffed figure in my window, with my name upon it, and this confounded ridiculous thing on its head (pulls foolscap from his pocket, and places it on his head). Behold the insulted majesty of the law!
Doctor. Allow me to look at that cap, Mr. Butts. This is made of one of my papers; and, as it bears my name upon it, it certainly came from this place. Now, who is the culprit? Harry, I have heard of your pranks in town, though you fancied I was ignorant of them. You will answer me truly. Is this your work?
Harry. No, sir. I have not been near Mr. Butts’s office for three days.