“What made you fess up now, Kid?” asked George Waters.
“I told the Doctor and he said I ought to tell you fellows and ask your pardons.”
“Oh, so you told the Doctor, eh? What did he do to you?”
“In bounds two weeks,” replied Kid gloomily.
“And mighty soft,” said Ben. “He ought to have put you on probation for a month. After you’d got us pitying your people and buying your nasty old tablets to help you you went down to the village and spent all the money and made yourself sick. That’s a fine game, isn’t it?”
Kid was silent. Someone chuckled.
“What’s the joke, young Bryant?” demanded Ben coldly.
Bert turned his chuckling into a cough.
“Better take a Tinkham’s Throat-Ease for that,” advised Sewall Crandall sotto voce. A smile went around the circle. Even Ben’s face relaxed from its frown.