“Me?” inquired Sid.
“Yep,” was the sententious answer.
Saying nothing further, the second baseman got up, and, as the messenger went down the hall, he followed slowly.
“He’s in for it, I’m afraid,” remarked Tom dubiously.
“Looks so,” agreed Phil. “It’s about that item in the paper, of course. Too bad it leaked out.”
But what took place at the interview with the proctor, Sid’s chums did not learn until long afterward. All that became known was that Dr. Churchill was summoned, and that Sid was in the proctor’s study a long time. He returned to his room a trifle pale, and with unnaturally bright eyes. Throwing himself on the creaking sofa he stared at the ceiling moodily, while Phil and Tom maintained a discrete silence.
“Why don’t some of you fellows say something?” burst out Sid finally. “Think this is a funeral?”
“We didn’t think you wanted to have a talk-fest,” observed Tom.
“What in blazes am I to do?” asked Sid desperately.