"Read this letter, please."
She handed the colonel's letter to him and he began to read it. His face grew red and his eyes snapped. He had been outwitted. He knew in a moment when, where and how it had been done. He handed the paper back to Miss Grey.
"All right!" he said. "But I think it was a mean, underhanded, contemptible trick."
Then Aleck, slow to wrath, woke up.
"There was nothing mean nor underhanded about it," he retorted. "I had a perfect right to ask Colonel Butler for a subscription. And if he chose to give the whole flag, that was his lookout. And," turning to Pen, "if you'd been half way decent last night, you'd have known all about this thing then, and maybe saved yourself some trouble."
Before Pen could flash back a reply, Miss Grey intervened.
"That will do, boys. I'm not sure who is in the wrong here, if any one is. I propose to find out about that, later. It's an unfortunate situation; but, in justice to Colonel Butler, we must accept it." She handed Pen's paper back to him, and added: "I think you had better take this back to your subscribers, and ask them to cancel their subscriptions. I will consult with my associates at noon, and we will decide upon our future course. In the meantime I charge you both, strictly, to say nothing about this matter until after I have made my announcement at the afternoon session. You may take your seats."
The school bell had already ceased ringing, and the pupils had filed in and had taken their proper places. So Aleck and Pen went down the aisle, the one with stubborn resolution marking his countenance, the other with keen resentment flashing from his eyes.
And poor Miss Grey, mild and peace-loving, but now troubled and despondent, who had thought to restore harmony among her pupils, foresaw, instead, only a continued and more bitter rivalry.
Notwithstanding her admonition, rumors of serious trouble between Aleck and Pen filtered through the school-room during the morning session, and were openly discussed at the noon recess. But both boys kept silent.