“Well, I guess not! You’d go and tell the fellows over there, and then your principal would get hold of it and write to Toby about it. You run away and play!”
“What do you think I am?” asked Cotton, evidently pained and grieved by Harry’s suspicions. “Of course I wouldn’t tell. I just want to know myself, that’s all. I’ve had my suspicions all along, and I’d like to know whether they are right or not.”
“Huh,” grunted Harry. “All right; you tell me who you think did it, and I’ll tell you whether you’re right or wrong.”
But Cotton shook his head. “No,” he answered, virtuously, “I wouldn’t want to name any fellow who was really innocent, you see.”
Harry viewed him puzzledly. That was rather beyond him. Finally——
“Oh, well, I’m not going to tell you,” he said.
“But I’ll promise not to tell a soul!”
“Then what do you want to know for?”
“Just what I said. I’ll bet I’ve got three of them at least.”