“And he didn’t commit any crime because it says on the shack visitors welcome,” Hervey went on. “So now if you want to ask him any questions you can do it, and if you care to apologize for calling me a liar you can do it, only hurry up because I’m through with this place—I’m washing my hands of it.”
“He knows one scout law—cleanliness,” a fellow whispered.
Mr. Arnoldson was awful nice, I’ll say that. He came down and said, “Willetts, I’m always ready to apologize when I’m wrong. Who is this young man?”
“Willetts ought to apologize for waking everybody up,” a scoutmaster said.
“Not at all,” Mr. Arnoldson said; “I couldn’t sleep with the stigma of lying upon me.”
“He never sleeps anyway,” somebody said about Hervey.
Cracky, I have no use for sharpies, but I have to admit that this one was all right. And he could use dandy words too. He told Mr. Arnoldson just how it was, the whole thing. Hervey just stood there trying to balance that crazy stick on his nose—he didn’t look very much insulted.
Mr. Arnoldson said, “Well, scouts, I’m glad you arose so you can all hear my apology.”
“Stop balancing that stick and listen, will you!” I whispered to Hervey. Honest, he had me nervous.
Mr. Arnoldson said, “Willetts, I never denied you were brave and venturesome—too venturesome.” That’s just the way he said it. “I never concealed the fact that you are unruly and disobedient and reckless. You would rather do a stunt and be spectacular than be a good scout. Your doubtful reputation caused me to misjudge you. You can’t be any happier than I am at this public apology.