“Be honest, now,” said Mr. Morton. “I have been a boy myself; I have taken part in just such tricks. I know how bad you feel, and how hard it is to confess; but I give you my word that you will feel a great deal better after telling the truth. I will give you one minute more before I try another plan.”
Mr. Morton took out his watch, and looked at it; the boys who had not been engaged in the mischief looked virtuously around them, and the guilty boys looked at their desks.
“Now,” exclaimed Mr. Morton, replacing his watch in his pocket. “Stand up like men. Will none of you do it?”
Benny Mallow whispered, “Yes, sir,” but the teacher did not hear him; besides, Benny made no effort to keep his word, so his whispering amounted to nothing.
“Grayson,” said Mr. Morton, “come here.”
Bert Sharp, who sat near the front of the room, where the teacher could watch him, edged to the end of his seat, so as to be ready to jump up and run away the moment Grayson told—if he dared to tell. Most of the other boys found their hearts so high in their throats that they could not swallow them again, as Grayson, looking very white and uncomfortable, stepped to the front.
“Grayson,” said the teacher, “I have known you for many months: have I ever been unkind to you?”
“No, sir,” replied Grayson; then he wiped his eyes; seeing which, Bert Sharp thought he might as well run now as later, for boys who began by crying always ended by telling.
“You saw the attack made on the Italian; Justice Stott says you admitted as much to him. Now I want you to tell me who were of the party.”
“May I speak first, sir?” asked Grayson.