“Well, well, maybe ’twill not be so bad. If you’re sorry, now, likely—”
“What I meant was,” said Dan with a smile, “that I was sorry for you, sir.”
“Eh? Sorry for me?” Mr. McIntyre’s thick, grizzled eyebrows snapped together.
“Why, yes, sir. I know you don’t like to have to report fellows,” answered Dan.
“Hum! Well, no more I do, Vinton.” Kilts frowned, glanced at Gerald and glanced away again. “Maybe there were circumstances, Vinton, that extenuate your action,” he said finally with a hopeful note in his voice. “Maybe, now, ’twas illness in the family; maybe ’twas necessary for you to leave school suddenly—”
“It was, sir, very necessary,” replied Dan, “but it had nothing to do with my family.”
“Well, well, maybe if you’d be telling me about it, now—”
“I’m afraid I can’t, sir,” said Dan regretfully. “I wish I could. But it concerns someone else.”
“Then you’re afraid you might get him into trouble?”