Still the pile grew apace. And with it grew the fun, the jollity, the excitement, the cries and the spirit of the school.
Dr. Morrison, the head master, and his teachers, had wisely retired to their rooms. On such an occasion as this it is not wise on the part of discerning professors to see too much. There are matters to which one must shut one’s eyes. And Dr. Morrison, from contact with many boys, was wise in his day and generation.
For he knew it would be only honest, clean fun; and what matter if there was much noise and shouting? What matter if the fire blazed high? The boys never so far forgot themselves as to endanger the school buildings by their beacon, which was kindled well out on the big campus.
What if numerous rules were cracked or broken? It only happened once a year. And what if ginger pop and sandwiches were surreptitiously introduced into the dormitories? That, too, need not be seen by the authorities.
“Wood! More wood!”
“Where’s Tom Hatfield?”
“Yes, and Chet Anderson?”
“Over here boys!”
“Heads up!”
“Slap on Swipes’s piano box!”