Mr. Daley shook his head doubtfully. "You may be right," he said, "but it seems to me that teaching a boy how to fight is going to make him want to. That's the way it goes with other things, Jim. Give a boy lessons in swimming and he wants to swim; teach him--er--how to jump--"
"Teach him how to box and he wants to box. Certainly, but that doesn't mean that he wants to go around picking quarrels and fighting with bare fists. You might as well say that learning to fence makes you want to go out and stab folks with a rapier! And look at the evidence presented awhile ago. Beaufort undoubtedly picked that quarrel. There can't be any doubt of that. We know his record. Beaufort, I'll wager, never took a boxing lesson in his life. He showed it. The chap who knew how to box, Durkin, had to be forced to fight."
"You'll convince me in a minute," laughed Mr. Daley, "that if I want to keep out of trouble I'll have to learn to use my fists!"
"It would be a good thing if you did," responded the other. "Come over to the gym some afternoon and have a go at it!"
"That would be setting a fine example, wouldn't it?"
"As a matter of fact, it would," replied Mr. Conklin earnestly. "I wish I could convince Fernald of it!"
Meanwhile, Clint and Penny, both chastened and uneasy, were reviewing the episode in Penny's room.
"I suppose he will report it," said Penny. "If he does, and Mr. Fernald believes Dreer's story, it'll cost me that scholarship."
"I don't see why he should believe Dreer any more than you and me," Clint objected.
"I'm afraid he will want to. He hates to have fellows fight. I'm glad you kept out of it, anyway."