“I don’t know, sir.” He was in for it now—caught. Mr. Fielding opened the magazine and pointed out a marked page to Junior.
“Junior, I know you won’t accuse an honourable gentleman like your father of stealing another man’s writings, passing them off as his own. There’s an ugly name for that. It’s called plagiarism.”
He had tried to defend his father, and look at the result!
“I wrote those letters, Mr. Fielding.”
“I knew that,” said Mr. Fielding gently. “You won’t do it again, though, will you, Junior?”
“Hardly.”
“That’s all. You may go now.”
Junior turned at the door. He knew that this was not all. He was being let down too easily.
“Mr. Fielding——” he began, and hesitated. “It won’t be necessary for you to tell my father, will it?”
“I won’t tell him, but you will.”