“Well, sir,” said he, with a polite bow of the head, dropping his paper and looking up at us.
“Mr. Snug, we have come to report,” said I, fearlessly. “We have been to Moody Barn.”
Instantly Mr. Snug straightened himself up in his chair, pushed back the gray locks from his high forehead, and, with an expression that I never shall forget, glared at me from under the frowning eyebrows.
“You lie, sir!” he exclaimed, in thundering tones that fairly made my hair stand on end, while Cuthbert trembled from head to foot; then followed a brief moment of consternation that seemed an age. “Now go!” continued he, as with an emphatic nod of the head he motioned toward the door. Sheepish and crest-fallen, we slunk away from the room. It is needless to say that we went this time. Through the darkness, by the aid of a lantern, we picked our way, as with theories numerous and ingenious we strove to account for that vociferous reception.
Late that night we held an experience meeting with Mr. and Mrs. Snug in the Tower, and if I remember right there were a few tears that fell, and many apologies and good resolves, and as the true state of the case dawned on Mr. Snug there was an evident twinge of regret on his kind face.
On the following morning (Saturday) there was a jolly party of youths leaving the Snuggery for a day’s boating at the lake. Dick Shin was among them; and just as he was passing out the gate, a youngster approaches him and taps him on the shoulder. “You are hereby arrested, sir, on the orders of Mr. Snug.”
With an anxious and innocent expression Dick follows his juvenile constable into the Tower, and his companions stroll along after to ascertain the cause of the detention. We pass over the brief but amusing trial, in which the prisoner, with the innocence of a little lamb, pleaded his cause.
“You stumbled, did you?” said Mr. Snug. “Well, you ought to know, sir, by this time that I don’t allow young men to stumble in that way in my house. These two boys have suffered through your admitted clumsiness.” Here Mr. Snug paused in a moment’s thought. “Dick Shin,” he continued, “I sent these innocent young gentlemen on two trips to Moody Barn—that makes four miles for Bigson and four miles for Harding, together making eight that they walked on your account. Now you may put down your fishing-pole, and ‘stumble’ along on the road to Judd’s Bridge, which will give you two extra miles in which to think over your sins. And to make sure”—here Mr. Snug arose and went to the closet—“you may take this hatchet along with you, and bring me back a good big chip from the end of the long bridge beam. I shall ride over that way to-morrow and see whether it fits. You understand?”
“Yes, sir,” replied the injured voice of Dick Shin. “But, Mr. Snug, can’t I put off that penance until Monday?”
“No, sir,” replied Mr. Snug, with a beaming smile and a bow of the head. “This is a lovely morning for contrite meditation. Go—instantly.”