“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. This is the way it all came about, sir. You see——”
“Really, my boy, I’m afraid I haven’t time to hear any family histories. Suppose you come and see me this evening after supper.”
“But that will be too late, sir! I want to get to the field and——”
“That’s just what I want,” replied the Principal with a smile. “So——”
“There isn’t much to tell, sir,” interrupted Perry doggedly. “I threw that rotten apple at Old—at Mr. Adams, and he thought Danforth did it, and you put him on pro and he lost his place on the team——”
“Succinct, indeed, Vose!” said the Principal approvingly. “And now you come to tell me so I’ll let Danforth get into the game, I presume? But what about this—this slight misunderstanding? I presume that you are both of you aware that fighting is not countenanced here?”
“Yes, sir,” replied Harry eagerly, “but there wasn’t anything else to do! And we thought you’d understand it if we came to you and told you all about it, sir. He—he didn’t want to own up to it, and so I—we decided we’d have a—just a small, harmless sort of a scrap, sir, and if I won it he was to come with me and put me right, sir.”
“Hm; and I presume, although your appearances might leave me in doubt, that you—er—won, Danforth?”
“Why—why, yes, sir. But he put up a dandy—I mean it was very close.”