“Ah, Fairchild, Doctor Merton would like to see you in the office, please.”
Mr. Crane looked at Kid so peculiarly as he gave the message that had the latter entertained any doubt as to the reason for the summons such a doubt would have been instantly dispelled. Kid experienced a sinking of the heart as he muttered “Yes, sir,” and turned toward the Doctor’s sanctum. Well, it had to be faced! Probably the Doctor had had a reply to that letter and the worst had come. It was all well enough to tell Nan that he hadn’t said a word about his people losing their money, but the story wouldn’t serve with the Doctor, who drew a very fine line between truth and falsehood, and who maintained that an untruth could be implied as well as spoken. Kid’s feet dragged all the way to the office, and when he was outside the door, which happened to be closed, he stood there for several moments listening to the loud and irregular thumping of his heart and wishing ever so hard for the deck of that merchantman! Then he summoned his courage and knocked. And then, in response to a cheerful “Come in!” he opened the door and entered.
The Doctor was seated at his broad-topped desk, a shiny mahogany desk it was, piled high with books and papers and all sorts of business-like objects; in short, a desk to dispel the last particle of assurance in the culprit. But Kid, with a supreme effort, summoned the cherub-look to his countenance and faced his fate.
The Doctor, who was reading the Whittier Standard, laid aside the paper and looked across the desk at Kid. There was nothing formidable in that look. Rather it was friendly and smiling, and Kid would have taken courage had he not known that the Doctor possessed a disconcerting habit of smiling before he smote. Kid’s round blue eyes gazed innocently at the Doctor.
“You—you sent for me, sir?” he asked in a wee small voice.
“Yes, James.” The Doctor’s smile vanished and he frowned portentously across the litter of books and papers. “Sit down, please.” He nodded at a chair, and Kid, wondering, seated himself on the edge of it. Never before had he been invited to seat himself in the Doctor’s office. Plainly the interview was to be both protracted and painful! “Well, sir,” continued the Principal, “and what’s this you’ve been doing?”
Kid tried to retain his look of cherubic innocence, but it faded away and he lowered his head.
“I—I—nothing, sir, if you please.”
“Nothing! So you call it nothing, do you? I should say it was a good deal. Do you perform these brilliant feats very often, James?”
“No, sir,” murmured Kid miserably. “And I won’t ever do it again, sir.”