Now, although he had been at the school three terms, no boy had ever ventured to call upon Mr. Neatby before. Other masters might occasionally ask boys to tea or permit an occasional call out of school hours to arrange about house matches, etc. But he had ever discouraged any familiarity whatsoever, and that Tod and Peter should dare to intrude upon him at such a moment seemed to him, as indeed it was, a piece of unparalleled impertinence.
“What do you want here?” he asked angrily. “It’s after lock-up.”
“Mr. Ord gave us leave to come,” Peter said eagerly. “We don’t understand this question, sir. Could you explain? What a noise those kittens do make, don’t they?”
Now if Tod could only have refrained from looking at Peter, Mr. Neatby might have remained forever in the dark as to the mystery of the kittens. But, even as Peter spoke, Tod, unaware that the light from the master’s lamp shone full on his face, winked delightedly at his brother, and in a flash Mr. Neatby connected their unexpected and unnecessary visit with those equally unwelcome visitants whose advent during the past week had entailed so much annoyance upon him.
Taking no notice of the paper Peter held out toward him, he laid the little cage on the table, and said very quietly:
“Now that you are here, you will perhaps kindly explain what you mean by sending all these animals to me.”
“Us, sir!” the twins exclaimed breathlessly, and as usual in chorus—“Us!”
“Did you or did you not cause these five kittens to be sent to me?” Mr. Neatby asked again.
Dead silence.
As Tod said afterward, “It was one of those beastly yes or no questions that there’s no getting out of.”