CHAPTER XII

GERALD PAYS THE PENALTY

“Now, Pennimore,” began the Assistant Principal, kindly, “you and I have been pretty good friends so far, haven’t we?”

“Yes, sir,” replied Gerald.

“Exactly. And I’m going to make this as easy for you as I can. Suppose you tell me how it happened.”

“Er――what, sir?”

“This――ah――this Broadwood escapade. Mr. Grogan here is quite certain that he chased you around the Broadwood grounds on the night of――let me see――the night of March thirty-first. Have you ever seen Mr. Grogan before, Pennimore?” Gerald hesitated. Finally:

“I think so, sir.”

“On that occasion?”

“Yes, sir.”

“So. Then I won’t detain you any longer, Mr. Grogan. Thanks for your assistance, and you may rest assured that the culprits will be appropriately punished. Good morning.”

Mr. Grogan arose and made for the door. But after he had opened it, he paused and turned to Mr. Collins again. “You understand, sir, I’m not saying as ’twas this young gentleman as tripped me up?”

“Quite.”

“No, sir, ’twan’t him; ’twas another of them, a bigger fellow entirely. An’ as for me, sure, ’tis no harm I’m wishing any of them, failin’ him I’m tellin’ you of. Boys will be boys, sir. I know that. I’ve been with them for goin’ on seven years now; but the fellow that tripped me up was no gentleman, Mr. Collins. Take it from me, sir!”

“I will, Mr. Grogan,” replied the Assistant Principal, hiding a smile. “Good morning.”

“Good morning to you, sir.” Mr. Grogan passed out, and the door closed softly behind him. Mr. Forisher, busy with his files, seemed quite oblivious to anything that was going on about him.

“Bring your chair over here, Pennimore,” said Mr. Collins, briskly, “and let’s talk this over. Now, tell me, what was the――ah――the idea?”

“Just a joke on Broadwood, sir,” answered Gerald, eagerly. “We――I mean――――”

“Don’t be concerned. I know already that there were several others in the affair. You say it was merely a joke?”

“Yes, sir. We didn’t want to have any trouble with that man, but he came along just as we were getting away and tried to stop us. And I ran and he chased me, and――and――some one tripped him up. It didn’t hurt him a bit, sir, because he got right up again and ran after us.”

“Possibly it was his dignity that was damaged,” returned Mr. Collins, dryly. “However, we needn’t concern ourselves with Grogan. I have received, though, a letter from the Principal of Broadwood, giving the facts and requesting that I look into the matter. Frankly, Pennimore, viewed strictly as a practical joke, the thing amuses me. It was well thought out and cleverly executed. Not your idea, I suppose?”

“N-no, sir.”

“No, it suggests older brains. I dare say your roommate, Vinton, might do as clever a thing as that?”

Gerald made no reply; only studied the cap he was twisting about in his hands. Mr. Collins, unseen, smiled and darted a look across at the busy secretary.

“Not Vinton, eh? Then let me see. Ah, I have it, I’m sure! Loring?”

Continued silence. Mr. Collins sighed.

“You won’t tell, Pennimore?”

“No, sir.”

“Um. Perhaps you don’t realize that you have broken at least two rules?”

“Yes, sir, I know.”

“We’ve expelled students here for less, Pennimore,” continued the Assistant Principal, suggestively. Gerald said nothing.

“I was thinking, however, that if we knew the other members of the――ah――band, Pennimore, the punishment could be spread over a larger surface, and your share would be less. You get my meaning?”

Gerald looked up squarely.

“Yes, sir; I know what you want me to do, but――but I’m not going to tell!” Mr. Collins sighed again, but somehow the sigh suggested relief rather than disappointment.

“Well, that’s for you to decide,” he said, gravely. “I don’t propose to go into the ethics of it with you, or to try further to persuade you. I gather that you are willing to take the punishment for all. Is that it?”

“If――if I have to, sir,” replied Gerald, rather weakly.

“I fear you will have to, my boy. You knew, doubtless, that you were transgressing the rules when you left your room that night?”

“Yes, sir, I guess so.”

“Well, did you, or didn’t you?”

“Yes, sir, I did.”

“That’s better. By the way, what time did you leave?”

“About half-past ten.”

“As early as that? And how did you get away without Vinton knowing it? For, of course, he didn’t know it. Otherwise he would have prevented you from going.”

“I――I went to bed with my underclothes on, sir.”

“And you managed to leave the room without awakening Vinton? Is that it?”

Gerald considered an instant. Then he nodded.

“Yes, sir. Dan didn’t know that I was going.”

“Hum.” Mr. Collins observed him sharply, but Gerald met his eyes without faltering. “Well, I have talked with Doctor Hewitt, and we have already determined the punishment appropriate. First, you will compose a letter to the Principal of Broadwood, apologizing for the act of trespass you committed. Draw it up and bring it to me.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then you will go on probation until further notice. You know what that means?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Hum, yes; I’d forgotten for a minute that you had had a trifling experience in that last year. Keep on school grounds, Pennimore, remain in your room after supper, stand high in your studies――nothing under a C plus will satisfy me, Pennimore――and take no part in athletics.”

“Oh, please, sir!” cried Gerald.

“Well?”

“Please, Mr. Collins, I’m trying for the Track Team. Couldn’t I go on with that, sir? Not if I promised to be awfully good and get A’s and B’s in everything, sir?”

“I’m afraid not,” replied Mr. Collins, gravely. “You ought to have thought of that before you went in for practical joking. No, you must leave out the athletics, Pennimore. And now, what’s that you have in your hands there?”

“My cap,” answered Gerald, trying hard to keep his voice steady.

“May I see it? Thank you. Ah, I see you have your Y, Pennimore.”

“Y-yes, sir.”

“For hockey, wasn’t it? I thought so. Proud of it, I suppose?”

“Yes, sir,” replied Gerald, uneasily.

“Of course you would be.” Mr. Collins picked up an ink-eraser and bent over the cap. _Snip_ went a stitch and off came the white letter. He replaced the knife, dropped the letter into a drawer, and returned the cap to Gerald.

“You see, my boy,” he said, gently, “we’re proud of that Y, too, and we don’t like to see it worn where it isn’t deserved. That’s all, Pennimore.”

Gerald groped for the arm of his chair, and pulled himself up with averted face, hoping that Mr. Collins couldn’t see the tears that were leaking down his nose. Mr. Collins arose, too, and walked to the door ahead of him and opened it. As Gerald went through, the Assistant Principal laid a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Pennimore,” he said, kindly. “Good morning.”

Then the door closed behind him, and Gerald found himself in the darkened corridor. For a moment he stood there struggling with the tears that would come, it seemed, in spite of everything. Then, mechanically, he put his cap on his head, but only to pull it off the next instant and stuff it into his pocket. He hated it now.