“Yes, sir.”
“It isn’t so, Uncle Socrates,” said Jim, excited. “I’ll lick you, Ben Platt, when we get out of school.”
“You forget yourself, James,” said Socrates, with a mildness he would not have employed with any other pupil.
“I beg your pardon, Uncle Socrates,” said Jim, with contrition, “but I can’t be silent when I am accused of things I don’t do.”
“To be sure, you have some excuse, but you should remember the respect you owe to me. Then you did not do it?”
“Certainly not, sir.”
“So it appears, Platt, that you have brought a false charge against your fellow-pupil,” said Mr. Smith, severely. “I can conceive of nothing meaner.”
“Mr. Smith,” said Hector, “what right have you to say that the charge is false? Is it the denial of your nephew? If he took the wallet he would, of course, deny it.”
“So would you!” retorted Socrates.
“No one saw me conceal it,” said Hector, significantly.