“No, sir, ’twan’t him; ’twas another of them, a bigger fellow entirely. An’ as for me, sure, ’tis no harm I’m wishing any of them, failin’ him I’m tellin’ you of. Boys will be boys, sir. I know that. I’ve been with them for goin’ on seven years now; but the fellow that tripped me up was no gentleman, Mr. Collins. Take it from me, sir!”
“I will, Mr. Grogan,” replied the Assistant Principal, hiding a smile. “Good morning.”
“Good morning to you, sir.” Mr. Grogan passed out, and the door closed softly behind him. Mr. Forisher, busy with his files, seemed quite oblivious to anything that was going on about him.
“Bring your chair over here, Pennimore,” said Mr. Collins, briskly, “and let’s talk this over. Now, tell me, what was the—ah—the idea?”
“Just a joke on Broadwood, sir,” answered Gerald, eagerly. “We—I mean——”
“Don’t be concerned. I know already that there were several others in the affair. You say it was merely a joke?”
“Yes, sir. We didn’t want to have any trouble with that man, but he came along just as we were getting away and tried to stop us. And I ran and he chased me, and—and—some one tripped him up. It didn’t hurt him a bit, sir, because he got right up again and ran after us.”
“Possibly it was his dignity that was damaged,” returned Mr. Collins, dryly. “However, we needn’t concern ourselves with Grogan. I have received, though, a letter from the Principal of Broadwood, giving the facts and requesting that I look into the matter. Frankly, Pennimore, viewed strictly as a practical joke, the thing amuses me. It was well thought out and cleverly executed. Not your idea, I suppose?”
“N-no, sir.”