“Some whose names are not worth mentioning, and whose reputations are still worse.”
“Dear me, dear me! The rascals, to suspect my son,” fumed the old man. He walked excitedly up and down the room. By some occult process he connected these suspicions with his son's stringency of cash, and blamed himself in proportion to his indignation.
“My boy, my boy! this is all too bad, too bad! If I had allowed you your regular amount all this would not have happened. Such a thing could not then have happened.”
“I do not see that, father, unless by having plenty of money as usual I should not have undertaken the treasurership. I do not see how this consequence flows from the premises. Indeed I think it more than likely had matters been normal with me I should have been treasurer just the same.”
“Well, we must rectify all this. You want to go back to St. Cuthbert's, or do you wish to stay away?”
“I want to go back, sir, of course, and graduate. And please, father,” said Roy right loyally, “please do not think these few boys represent St. Cuthbert's. There are not a finer set of fellows in the world. These I spoke of are the exceptions.”
This remark thoroughly pleased the father who was himself an alumnus of old St. Cuthbert's.
“And besides,” continued the young man, “I want to go back and live down the ugly rumor—for that is all it is—and make somebody eat his words. I know, I feel certain it will come out all right. Matters always do. I want to be there. If I were to stay away now, would it not be, at least for some, a sort of tacit acknowledgment, or at least it might be so construed by some unfriendly to me, who might
say I knew more than I chose to tell and so kept away as soon as I had a chance to do so?”