"I suppose so," Donald admitted. "I'm not sure. Why don't you ask in class tomorrow?"
"It occurs to me that a clever hypnotist could be responsible for what happened at school today."
"Some of it; isn't that rather obvious? We'd like to go on talking, Mr. Elvin, honest. But we have a lot of work to finish. It'll be bedtime soon enough."
"But you know about hypnotism, don't you?"
"We know how it's done, yes, and its limitations so far as genuine telepathy—"
"Who created that ridiculous scene in the auditorium?" Elvin's voice rose as he tried to put on pressure.
"I wouldn't worry about the principal, Mr. Elvin, if I were you. He's always been a neurotic."
"Mighty big words you're using these days, Donald. Where'd you hear them?"
"The principal is a little man—mentally, I mean. He's afraid of people because he isn't sure of himself. So he makes himself a tin god, a dictator, just to show the rest of us—"
"I want to know where you picked all this up!"