"Out with it," said Butsey militantly.
But at that moment the voice of Mr. Jenkins summoned Stover below, and left the great question unanswered.
III
The interview with the house master was not trying. Mr. Jenkins was a short, fuzzy little man, who looked him over with nervous concern, calculating what new strain on his temper had arrived; introduced him to Mrs. Jenkins, and seized the occasion of the luncheon-bell to cut short the conversation.
At lunch Stover committed an unpardonable error which only those who have suffered can understand—he sent his plate up for a second helping of prunes.
"What in the name of peanuts did you do that for?" said Butsey in a whisper, while the Coffee-colored Angel jabbed him with his elbow and trod on his toes. "Now you have put your foot in it!"
Stover looked up to behold every countenance grim and outraged.
"What's wrong?" he said in a whisper.
"Wrong? Didn't you ever have prunes and skimmed milk before, thousands and thousands of times?"
"Yes, but——"