“I couldn’t tell,” replied Harry. “It was dark on the stairs and I only saw the chap for a second.”
“Adams is a pig-headed old codger, anyway,” said Tracey disgustedly. “You couldn’t convince him that you didn’t do it unless you had the fellow who did do it and go and make an affidavit before a notary! You’re up against it, chum, I guess. Perhaps, though, Dobs”—the Principal was called Dobs for short—“will believe you. He isn’t a bad sort, Dobs. Neither is Adams, for that matter, except that he’s as stubborn as a mule and as full of dignity as a—a camel!” At any other time Harry might have protested at the simile, but this morning he was too down in the mouth to care. “I suppose,” went on Tracey, “that Adams didn’t mind being hit with the apple much, but the fact that it was rotten offended his blessed dignity. If you’d only chucked a green apple——”
“I tell you I didn’t!” cried Harry exasperatedly. “I don’t know anything about it! I——”
“I know! I meant to say it was a pity the fellow who did it didn’t throw a green one,” answered Tracey soothingly. Harry grunted. After a moment’s thought: “I suppose that even if you found out who the fellow was,” continued Tracey, “it wouldn’t do you much good. I don’t suppose he’d ’fess up to it.”
“He’d have to if I knew him,” replied the other grimly. “Why, confound it, Tracey, if Dobs thinks I’m lying he will—will——” Harry choked. Tracey nodded sympathetically.
“Pro,” he answered. “I know. Off goes your head! No more football. It’s—it’s a shame, old man!”
“And Adams will tell his story and I won’t have a show at all,” mourned Harry. “If—if he says I can’t play any more I won’t stay here, Tracey! I—I’ll leave!”
“Oh, I wouldn’t do that, chum. After all, you know, things like this are likely to happen to a fellow occasionally. And as for football, why, there’s another year coming, and——”
“You make me tired! Another year coming! Just when I’ve beaten Dyker out for my position, and the St. Matthew’s game comes to-morrow! No, sir, if he says I can’t play to-morrow I’ll quit, Tracey! It isn’t fair! I didn’t do anything and they’ve no right to punish me for something I didn’t do! You—you just wait and see!”
“You’ll think differently later, I guess,” said Tracey sympathetically. He put an arm through Harry’s. “Come on and have some breakfast. You’ll feel better after that.”