“Yes, sir.”
“Hum, yes; I’d forgotten for a minute that you had had a trifling experience in that last year. Keep on school grounds, Pennimore, remain in your room after supper, stand high in your studies—nothing under a C plus will satisfy me, Pennimore—and take no part in athletics.”
“Oh, please, sir!” cried Gerald.
“Well?”
“Please, Mr. Collins, I’m trying for the Track Team. Couldn’t I go on with that, sir? Not if I promised to be awfully good and get A’s and B’s in everything, sir?”
“I’m afraid not,” replied Mr. Collins, gravely. “You ought to have thought of that before you went in for practical joking. No, you must leave out the athletics, Pennimore. And now, what’s that you have in your hands there?”
“My cap,” answered Gerald, trying hard to keep his voice steady.
“May I see it? Thank you. Ah, I see you have your Y, Pennimore.”
“Y-yes, sir.”