"Wait a moment," he answered Darrin. "I've got something to do."
With that Dick marched back into the schoolroom. Old Dut, looking up from the books that he was placing in a tidy pile on the platform desk, smiled.
"I came back to ask, sir, if your nose pains?"
Old Dut shot a keen glance at young Prescott, for long experience had taught the school-teacher that malice sometimes lurks behind the most innocent question from a boy. Then he answered:
"I'm glad to be able to report, Master Prescott, that my nose is causing me no trouble whatever."
"I'm very glad of that, sir. I've been a bit uncomfortable, since recess, thinking that perhaps my—that my act had broken your nose, and that you were just too game to let any one know. I'm glad no real harm was done, sir."
Then Dick turned, anxious to get out into the open as quickly as possible.
"One moment, Master Prescott!"
Dick wheeled about again.
"Are you sure that the book-throwing was an accident?"