“‘The handsome photograph of the Colosseum at Rome, recently hung in the main corridor of Oxford Hall, is the gift of Mrs. R. C. Hadlock, Mr. Tracy Hadlock’s mother. The gift is greatly appreciated by the student body.’”
“Gee, we’re an appreciative lot, according to The Scholiast,” grunted Arthur. “Is there anything there about the Wissining River being very wet this year and much appreciated by canoers?”
“No,” Gerald laughed. “Has somebody gone in?”
“Rather! Lowd and a chap named Peeble. Lowd was showing Peeble a few fancy racing strokes and over went Mister Canoe. I didn’t see it, but Norcross was telling about it. He says the canoe capsized square in the middle of the river and that when the fellows came up, Lowd struck out for one bank and Peeble for the other, and the canoe floated downstream. Then they stood on the bank and called each other names for not rescuing it.”
“Did they get it again?”
“Oh, yes, some one went after it for them. But Lowd had to swim across from the other side, because no one would fetch him over. Norcross said he was jumping mad about it. Well, I guess I’ll go home and do a line or two of studying, if Harry will let me. I suppose, though, he will want to talk it all over again. See you to-morrow, Gerald.”
To Arthur’s surprise it was an extremely silent roommate that he found on his return to Whitson. Arthur, who had recovered his temper long since and could afford to let by-gones be by-gones, greeted Harry casually on entering. Harry looked up for just an instant from the book he was reading, muttered a reply, and became at once apparently absorbed again. When bedtime came his manner rather puzzled Arthur. He seemed to have forgotten his grievance and yet had nothing to say, and appeared anxious to avoid even looking at his roommate. Arthur, however, didn’t trouble about it. He concluded that Harry was ashamed of the way he had behaved, and had made up his mind to take his punishment like a man. Once, when the lights were out, and Arthur was just on the verge of slumber, he thought he heard sobs from across the room, but when he called over softly to ask what the trouble was, there was no reply, and he concluded that he had imagined them. Then he went to sleep and slept like a log until morning, something he would not have done, I fancy, had he known what the morrow was to bring forth.
For at chapel Mr. Collins announced, among other things, that the presence of Thompson was requested at the Office after breakfast, and the erstwhile members of the S. P. M. sought each other out with apprehensive glances. There was no especial reason for associating Arthur’s summons with the occurrences of the thirty-first of March, but conscience makes cowards of us all, and Dan and Alf and the others waited anxiously until mid-morning to learn what was up. Then Arthur went over to 7 Dudley, where Dan and Alf were awaiting him, tossed his Latin book despondently on to the table, and threw himself into a chair.
“Well?” asked Alf after a moment.
“Probation,” replied Arthur.