"Aha, you young scoundrel! I have you now. Take that!"
And he hurled his stout oak cane at the ascending boy. The result greatly exceeded his expectations, for the stick, going straight to its mark, gave Charlie such a stinging blow that he involuntarily let go of the weighty pillow-slip, and down it dropped full upon the squire's pate, crushing his tall gray beaver over his eyes and sending him headlong to the ground.
It was some moments before he could pick himself up again, and by that time Charlie was safe inside the window. Beside himself with wrath, the squire assailed the front door with furious blows, bringing both the tutors out in startled haste.
To them, as well as his breathless, disordered condition permitted, he explained himself, and was at once invited to enter, while Mr. Butler went for Professor Rodwell.
On the professor's arrival all the boys were summoned to appear in the school-room, and presently in they flocked, all but the members of the A. & H. O. A. S. (who, by the way, had managed to get into their night-gowns with marvellous celerity), manifesting their innocence by their unmistakably startled, sleepy faces.
"Are all the boys here?" asked the squire suspiciously, on finding every one arrayed in his night-gown.
Professor Rodwell counted heads carefully.
"Yes, squire, all the boys are present," he replied.
"Humph!" snapped the squire. "A clever trick; but they can't pull the wool over my eyes in that way."
An anxious, expectant hush following, Professor Rodwell addressed the boys in grave yet not unkindly tones:—