Here Dick spoke up. "Father, the whole thing has us puzzled. We do not know yet just what you refer to. You speak of damage and rowdyism. We have not seen any. It was only by report that we heard about it and we've got into lots of trouble denying and resenting it. Until your notice was put up today, we treated the entire matter as a calumny. The only row we know of was that scrap between Frank and Bill Daly. That was nothing. Frank himself went up to tell you about that. We were all at sea when we saw you so indignant. We formed a committee to wait on you. As things are it looks bad for Frank. But we all know him and I—I—want to go on record now as standing by him, if he says he can't tell, in honor."
Frank seized his hand. "Dick, you're true blue."
"That's all right, Richard," said Father Boone slowly, and then, taking Frank by the hand, he added, "Frank, I trust you absolutely."
"Then I am ready for anything, Father."
Gibney now came up rather sheepishly, saying "Mulvy, I hope you'll pardon me."
"Nothing to pardon, old man, you did what any fellow would do," answered Frank. Then he swung around to the crowd quickly. "Fellows, I feel I'm 'in bad.' Everything is against me as things go ordinarily. You have nothing but my word for my defence. I hardly deserve such trust. But I hope you won't regret it."
"Frank, take that notice off the bulletin board and put it on my desk upstairs." As Frank left the room, Father Boone turned to the crowd.
"Boys, a good character is the best thing in life. Frank Mulvy's character alone stands between him and your condemnation. If this matter has no other issue than the present, it is worth while. I could talk on uprightness a month, and it would not impress you as much as what has happened before us."
At this point Frank returned and Tommy spoke up: "Will you tell us, Father, what it is that you are so much worked up over? We don't know what has happened, you know, about breakage and wanton destruction."
"I hope," said the priest, "that every boy here is as you are, Tommy, wholly ignorant of the matter. That only adds to the mystery, for you may as well expect a man to walk without legs as to have a lot of things broken and smashed without arms. Whose were the arms, if not yours of the Club, I'd like to know? I shall describe to you what occurred, and leave the mystery to you."