“Yes, it is,” was the answer from Twining, who had a thin, piping voice and sounded as though he might be only about thirteen. “Don’t you think they’ll come back pretty soon and let us out?”
“I fancy so. They’ll wait until things quiet down, I dare say. All we can do is wait.” Hugh felt his way to a chair and seated himself and the others followed his example. There was silence for a minute or two during which Hugh felt admiringly of the lump over his left eye. Then Twining spoke with something like a sniffle.
“I don’t think it’s fair for them to do this,” he complained. “We juniors have to be in by nine o’clock and I guess it must be more than that now, isn’t it?”
“Must be,” agreed Hugh. “Can’t you get in without being seen?”
“No,” replied the other junior disgustedly. “They lock the door about a quarter past and you have to ring. We’ll get the dickens!”
“Well, it’s all in a lifetime,” returned Hugh philosophically. “Anyway, you chaps held your meeting. That ought to comfort you, eh?”
“I dare say, but it isn’t very nice to have to spend the night up here.”
“That’s the idea,” exclaimed Hugh. “Stay up here and they won’t know you weren’t in, will they?”
They seemed doubtful about that. Twining was of the opinion that Mr. Gring, who was master on his floor, would somehow learn of his absence. “He finds out everything, Cupid does,” he sniffled. “Besides, I can’t sleep here in this hard seat all night.”
“Try the floor then, old chap. That’s what I shall do if they don’t come back and let us out.”