“I don’t know,” he said hoarsely, and with a furtive glance at the boys around him, he walked out of the wash room.
Hal was late at supper that evening. In fact, there were only a few left at the tables when he entered the dining room. He took a seat at a table alone and ate in moody silence. He felt bitter and wished he could leave the school never to return, although no experience in his life had ever been more pleasant than his three years at Lakefarm.
This was the second time that suspicion had been directed toward him regarding the disappearance of the aviator’s nuggets, and now he could see no possible way of proving his innocence. Unluckily, he had had no idea of the real nature of his find until Walter Hurst pronounced it gold and the owner appeared on the scene and claimed it.
After supper he went gloomily to his room and sat down and waited to be summoned to the doctor’s office. Of course, Mr. Miles had gone straight to Dr. Byrd and informed him of the scene in the wash room, and the owner of Lakefarm would soon call Hal to account.
But no call came, and Hal soon found himself imagining all sorts of direful explanations of the seeming inactivity. Probably the doctor had sent for the town marshal to come and take the nugget-thief to jail. Or possibly the owner of the school had decided to have nothing more to do with this bad boy and was even now writing to his father to come and take him away.
In a short time Hal had worked himself up to a very nervous and unhappy state. Then he began to plan wildly how he might escape the undeserved punishment that he saw ahead.
“If I could run Mr. Miles’ airship I’d fly away in it,” he said bitterly. “And it’d serve him right, too. He didn’t have any business to condemn me without a hearing. He might have given me the benefit of the doubt until I’d had a chance to prove I was innocent. But I couldn’t prove anything with him looking at me that way.”
“Hello, Hal, what’s the matter?”
Pickles, his roommate, interrupted his unhappy reverie with this cheery interrogation as he entered the room. Pickles was a quiet little fellow who seldom took anything very seriously and had a habit of stealing on one and surprising him with an unexpected “boo!” Hal started visibly on this occasion, much to the glee of Pickles.
“What’s the matter?” repeated the smaller boy as he observed the glum look on Hal’s face.