Poor Frank was in torture. He was hoping that Father Boone would go upstairs so that he could follow him and explain matters.
And Father Boone was hurt because no one volunteered an explanation. Surely Frank would say a word. But no, no one at all made any reference to the wreckage of the night before.
"Why don't they speak up? They're all concerned in it. It isn't a case of being an informer. They know I don't want tattlers around. But this is different. This is a serious matter. Damage was done. It is a question of justice. And they know my mind on that. And that secretary owes me a report. He is an official. I've told them often enough that when an official reports matters pertaining to his office, it is not 'squealing,' but duty. They all understand that; Frank especially. Well, I'll wait here fifteen minutes longer, and if they don't explain, I'll take action."
Father Boone went upstairs and after fifteen minutes left, in a very sober mood.
It was some minutes later that Frank, thinking the director was upstairs, went up to open his heart to him. But Father Boone was not in his office. Frank descended to the "gym," stayed awhile and then went home. He had a bad headache. The night before he had not slept. He could not eat. When he got home, however, he decided to get the thing off his mind before going to bed, and tired as he was, he started back to the Club, hoping to find Father Boone. But the priest had not returned. Hesitating a moment, he finally decided to go to the rectory and have it all over with. But at the rectory they told him that Father Boone was out on a sick call and might not be back for a couple of hours.
"Well, I've done my part," said Frank, and back home he went, somewhat relieved.
(IV)
Next night, Father Boone came into the Club not looking as pleasant as usual. He came late, too; not his wont. He greeted few, and his face showed firm. The boys whispered one to another, "He's on."
Frank now felt that he was a culprit. Something told him that Father Boone knew the whole matter and that he was cut up because Daly was concerned. It was too late now to go to him and make a clean breast of it. What must Father Boone think of him for driving Daly out of the Club. Forgetting all his efforts to do the right thing, Frank saw only that Father Boone was offended. He blamed himself as the cause of it and gloomily admitted that he had not been man enough to inform the director. That hurt him. Once more, when the priest went up to his office after a few minutes stay with the boys, Frank was determined to go to him and take the consequence.
Meanwhile, Father Boone had come to a decision. There had been some rowdyism in the Club. Furniture was broken, serious damage was done. It certainly was the work of more than one or two. By their very attitude, the boys showed their guilt. Yet no one, not even the secretary, had explained. Taking down a large sheet of paper, the director wrote on it in big letters,