“Y-yes, sir.” He paused. Then he said frankly; “The fact, sir, is that it was necessary for me to go to New York on the noon train; I can’t tell you why it was necessary; and I only learned that I had to go just a few minutes before the train left. The train was moving when I got on it. So there was no time to get permission and sign off. I knew it was against the rules, sir, but I couldn’t very well do anything else.”
“Well, well, it’s too bad,” said Kilts, “too bad! But I’ll speak a good word for you. I would not be surprised if we were lenient, Vinton. As for the other boy, now—” Kilts very carefully refrained from even a glance toward Gerald—“why, I don’t know who he may be, and so I don’t feel called on to mention him. But he must promise not to do anything of the kind again. Do you think he will promise that?”
“I’m sure of it,” replied Dan earnestly and gratefully.
Kilts nodded.
“Good! Then I’ll say good-night. I fear I’ve kept you from study too long already.” Mr. McIntyre took up his stick and hat and prepared to rise, but Dan interrupted.
“Mr. McIntyre, sir, just a moment, please,” he begged. “I—I—there’s something else, sir.”
Kilts laid his stick back across his knees and threw aside his ulster again.
“Well?” he asked. Dan was silent a moment, formulating his thoughts. Then:
“This other boy, sir,” he said, “it’s about him.” Kilts nodded and Gerald stirred uneasily at the table. “You don’t know who he is, sir, as you say, and so he—he isn’t likely to come into the affair. But I’d like to tell you a little about him, as it can’t do him any harm.”