CHAPTER VIII
A MIDNIGHT LARK
That winter proved to be a hard one, with frequent snows and violentwinds, which put an end to the skating within a few weeks afterChristmas, and left the majority of the boys with no very satisfactorypastime in the free afternoons. There was sliding down Deal Hill a goodpart of the time, and to Tony, who never before had experienced thepleasures of a northern winter, this was great fun; but after a time itpalled upon his two cronies, Jimmie and Kit, and at their suggestionsurreptitious visits to the cave in Lovel’s Woods became more frequent.Perhaps that this was a forbidden pleasure added a keener zest thanthey otherwise would have taken in it, and that several boys hadrecently been caught in the Woods and punished severely gave an elementof danger to their visits that made them even more fascinating. Asidefrom the disobedience that these visits involved, they were innocentenough. The boys, having reported at call-over for a walk, would skirtthe beaches and enter the Woods from the east, completely out of rangeof the school and comparatively safe from detection unless they chancedto encounter prefects or masters walking in the Woods themselves. Theindefatigable Mr. Gray often bent his steps in that direction, but tothe school’s intense delight, without noticeable result. The snows wereso heavy and the walking consequently so difficult that the vigilanceof masters and prefects at last completely relaxed. From that timeon the boys who cared for the trouble had a fairly clear field. Ourfriends were fortunate in having a cave on the extreme eastern edgeof the woods, so that the approach from the beach was easy. Once thiswas gained, they made a fire, cooked sausages, fried pan-cakes of anextremely leathery quality, and made coffee that certainly they wouldnot have drunk in any other place.
Tony had told Carroll of their exploits, and had even invited him topay them a visit and partake of their “feed,” an invitation that wasdecisively declined. “It is certainly not worth while,” he replied,with a smile, “to run the risk of getting the Doctor quite sour on mefor the pleasure of partaking of the results of your culinary skill.”
“A great deal better for you,” Tony retorted, “than moping in doorshalf the time over sickly French novels.”
“Possibly; but French novels are not the only alternative to theWoods,” Reggie answered, “and as a matter of fact I have begun to go infor tremendous tramps.”
“You must take ‘em mostly at night, then.”
“I do frequently,” was the somewhat tart reply, “the night air hasalways had a fascination for me.”
In truth Tony was aware that Reggie had resumed his old custom ofdisappearing from their rooms after lights, paying visits, heincuriously supposed, upon some of his friends. The fact gave himlittle thought.
One afternoon the three boys were in their cave. Tony was turningpan-cakes in a skillet, while Jimmie was laboring with a dark mixturethat they euphemistically called coffee. Kit sat on the branch of atree, with his head over the ledge, on the look-out for any wanderingprefects.
“Hurry up, you frabjous duffers,” he called down, midst a stream ofamiable chaffing; “it’s close upon four, and we’ll have to bolt thegrub in order to get back to Gumshoe’s five o’clock.”
“Why don’t you get down and work a bit, then? Nobody’s coming alongthis late. Get the plates out, and pour some syrup out of the jug. Nowork: no eat.”
“Too many cooks spoil the broth,” he laughed.... “Shish!” he exclaimedsuddenly, and ducked his head below the ledge.
The three kept a tense silence for a moment. They heard footstepscrunching in the snow above and passing on. Kit cautiously peeped overthe ledge. “By Jove,” he whispered, “it’s Reggie Carroll and ArtyChapin. I thought it was a couple of prefects.”
He slid down from the tree, and began to gobble up one of Tony’span-cakes. “By the by, Tony, I thought the elegant Reginald CarterWestover Carroll had severed his friendship with that specimen ofcommon Chapin clay.”
“So he had,” answered Tony, musingly. “I didn’t know they had taken upwith each other again.”
“What a queer duck Reggie is,” said Jimmie, as he poured out three cupsof coffee. “Have you ever made him out, Tony?”
“Not I. We hit it off well enough after the first few days—for a time.But this term I have hardly seen anything of him. I am sorry he is inwith Chapin again.”
“And I. I’ve always liked Reggie despite his supercilious disdain, butArty’s a beast, and always was,” said Kit, drinking his coffee at agulp. “Here, let’s stow these things, and cut around to the north andtake a peep as to what that precious pair are up to. Evidently no fiveo’clock for them.”
“What’s the difference where they are going?” said Tony. “I have nomind to spy on them.”
“Well, I have a consuming curiosity,” Kit rejoined. “They’re up tomischief, I’ll be bound.”
“Light out then,” said Tony, “for Jim and I are going back over theridges.”
“And leave your precious footprints in the snow,” protested Kit. “La!la! stow the stuff, will you then? I’ll report if there’s anythingdoing.”
And despite his companions’ adjurations Kit clambered off over therocks and started out in the direction indicated by Carroll’s andChapin’s footsteps in the snow.
The boys got safely back without being detected, but Kit was a quarterof an hour late, and created a sad disturbance when he entered in themidst of Mr. Roylston’s Third Latin recitation.
“The incorrigible Wilson,” remarked Mr. Roylston, without turning hisbeady black eyes in his direction, “will kindly take a pensum of onehundred lines for being late and disturbing the class.”
“Very well, sir,” said Kit.
“Spare me your comments, pray. Continue your recitation, Turner; BookFour, Chapter Fourteen, line twenty. Proceed. Cæsar—”
“Oh, yes, sir.... Qui omnibus rebus subito perterriti—” Tack spelledit out painfully, and fell mercilessly upon it, “Who to all quicklyhaving been thoroughly terrified. Et celeritati nostri et discessusuorum.... And with quickness to us both a descent....”
Mr. Roylston transfixed the floundering youth with a withering glance,and there was a moment of awful silence. “With quickness to you, I maysuggest, Turner,” he said at last in scathing tones, “descent into yourseat and a zero in my mark-book.”
He turned to Kit. “Wilson, let us see if you can cast light upon thedarkness into which Turner has led us.”
“I am afraid I can’t, sir.”
“No?” murmured the master. “Well, I was not hopeful,” and he quietlyrecorded a zero in his mark-book. “Now, Deering—”
Tony took up the passage, and got through it correctly enough, but notwithout being harassed by Mr. Roylston’s interruptions and glancesof incredulity at his rendering of the Latin. The Latin recitationsat Deal under the famous Ebenezer Roylston—he was the editor of anedition of Cicero that was classic in its day—were periods of agonyand boredom. But at last this particular recitation came to an end,and immediately afterward, Kit threw his arms about the necks of histwo friends, and drew them into a vacant classroom.
“Well?”
“What’s up?”
“Oh, you frabjous kiddos! I tracked ‘em for a mile—’twas a muckertrick, I’ll admit, but I’ve got it in for Chapin. And what do youthink, those two blooming jays are playing poker with their crowd in ashanty back of the Third Ridge. If it weren’t for Reggie, I swear I’dpeach on Chapin.”
“I swear you’d do nothing of the sort,” said Tony.
“Well, perhaps not,” assented Kit, temporarily crestfallen. “But I mustsay that’s a crummy thing of them to do. Fine school spirit, eh!”
“Well, we have been skipping bounds pretty regularly this fall, if Iremember correctly.”
“My dear child,” remarked Kit paternally, “when will you learn wisdom?The Doctor carefully distinguishes between moral offenses and offensesagainst school discipline. Now, bounds are obviously disciplinary andnot moral; hence we are mere wandering angels, while those poker fiendsare
equally hence of the lower regions.”
“Rot!” was the courteous rejoinder. “It is obvious to any but abonehead like yourself that the Doctor imposed bounds this year formoral reasons, because he had wind that just that sort of thing wasgoing on.”
“Ah!” resumed Kit sarcastically. “I perceive the glimmerings of aconscience. You are getting the remorse for your own sins?”
“Not particularly. I am only objecting to the complacent way in whichyou shove Carroll and Chapin outside the pale of decency.”
“Well, I’m easy, old boy; I certainly won’t be damned for makingpan-cakes in Lovel’s Woods; but I can readily see that Reggie might forplaying poker there. But it isn’t so much the poker I object to, as hisbeastly taste in companions.”
“Thunder and blazes, Kit, what’s it to you who Reggie goes with?”
“Nothing much. But of a kindness warn your room-mate against Arty; heis an awful bounder and always was.”
“Well,” answered Tony, “Reggie knows him better than we do; and it iscertainly not my business to give him advice. Come on; let’s quit thisjaw, and go in to supper.”
Disposed as Tony had been openly to defend Carroll against thiscriticism, he condemned him yet the more severely in his heart. He knewthat Reggie realized the defects of Chapin’s character; that he wasspoiling his chances of a prefectship the next year by his associationwith him, and that he was running the risk of public expulsion if itshould be discovered that he was playing poker. After a good deal ofhesitation he made up his mind to speak to Reggie on the subject.Accordingly he waited that night until after lights, and then slippedover to Reggie’s room, hoping to please him by this suggestion ofrenewing their nightly talks. But to his disappointment Carroll was notthere. Tony turned back into the study, and stood for a moment at thewindow looking out upon the white campus, flooded now with the light ofa full moon.
Suddenly he heard the latch of his door turn and some one slip into theroom.
“Hello, Reggie,” he whispered, “is that you?”
“Shish! no—it’s me—Kit,” came the soft reply. “Jimmie isoutside—we’re going to the Woods. Get into your clothes and comealong.”
“Oh, hang the Woods!” exclaimed Tony. “I am sleepy and want to go tobed.”
“Don’t be a quitter. Jim’s got a box from home; we’ll have a bullygood time, and we can get back by midnight. Where’s your preciousroom-mate—gone to the shanty?”
“I don’t know—I suppose so.”
“Well, perhaps we’ll meet him; come on.”
The lark proved too strong a temptation, and after a little morepersuasion, Tony yielded. He slipped on his trousers and a sweater,his stockings and boots, and a coat, and was ready. The two boys creptsilently down the corridor, past the door of Mr. Morris’s room, overthe transom of which a bright light was shining, and down the stairs.Once Kit tripped, and they sank down below the head of the stairs, justas Mr. Morris opened his door and stood at it for a moment listening.Then the master closed his door again, and the boys went out into thecold frosty moonlight night, and joined Jimmie, who was waiting forthem at the fives-court.
Morris, however, was an old hand at his business, and not a clumsyone. He stepped into his bedroom, which was darkened, and going to thewindow stood there watching. Presently he saw the three dark figures,unrecognizable at the distance, creep along the fives-court, dashacross to the cloister that led from Standerland to the Schoolhouse,and then disappear behind the clump of trees at the corner. Confidentthat he had heard some one leaving his own dormitory, the master thenmade his rounds, and surely enough found that Deering, Lawrence andWilson were missing. Curiously enough Tony’s happened to be the lastroom that he entered, and when he found his bedroom empty, thus beingsure that the three he had seen were accounted for, he neglected tolook into Carroll’s room, and returned to his study to wait for theirreturn.
About ten o’clock as he sat before his fire, meditating the courseof his action, a rap sounded on the door, and in response to hisinvitation, Doctor Forester came in.
“Ah, Morris,” said the Head Master, coming forward and standing withhis back to the fire, “I am sorry to disturb you at this time of night;but there is mischief afoot, and perhaps you can help me catch theoffenders.”
Morris looked at the Doctor attentively, but for the moment did notvolunteer his information.
“This afternoon,” continued the Head, “Maclaren found an old shantyback of the Third Ridge, rigged out with the paraphernalia of a pokergame. It has evidently been in use, and from the character of thedébris, he thinks, by some of our boys. Maclaren supposes that some ofyour boys have been getting out at nights, and may be the culprits. Isthat possible?”
“Yes,” answered Morris, “quite possible. I should not have said so anhour ago, for I keep a close watch upon that sort of thing, or at leastI try to; but as a matter of fact three of my boys are missing at thismoment.”
“Who are they?” asked the Doctor sharply.
“Lawrence, Deering and Wilson.”
“What! they are the last boys in the School that I should be inclinedto suspect of that sort of thing, though I regret to say, Maclaren hassome evidence that I fear implicates Deering. Have you any idea thatthey are gone to the Woods?”
“I fear they have, sir. I heard a noise in the hallway a half-hour ago,and slipped out to see what it was. For the moment I supposed I hadbeen mistaken, but a little later from my bedroom window I saw threeboys disappear back of the Schoolhouse. I did not know who they wereuntil I had made my rounds, which was just a few minutes ago.”
“Well, they must be found. If they are implicated in this affair at theThird Ridge shanty I shall deal with them severely. Fine boys, too!it’s a great shame.... Maclaren and Cummings are waiting in my study; Iwill go and give them this clue.”
“If you like, sir, I will go for you, and go with them.”
“I would be obliged if you would. In that case, I will remain hereuntil your return.”
Morris put on his great coat and boots and started out, while theDoctor settled himself before the fire with a book. A little later themaster with the two prefects whom he had found at the Rectory, set outfor Lovel’s Woods.
Early in the evening Thorndyke, who was a member of the crowd thatfrequented the shanty, had got wind of Maclaren’s discovery throughLawrence Cumming’s indiscreet confidences, and had hastened to therendezvous—the stone bridge by the Red Farm below Deal Hill—and hadwarned his companions. They had quietly returned to their dormitories;indeed, while the Head Master and Morris had been talking in thelatter’s study, Carroll had softly stolen upstairs, slipped into hisroom, and quietly got into bed.
Our other friends, following Kit’s ardent but injudicious leadership,were making a detour to the north on their way to their cave with anintention of taking a peep at the nefarious doings at the shanty.
It was a long walk, and a cold one. Tony and Jimmie had little heartfor it, but the irrepressible Kit led them gaily on. They skirtedBeaver Pond, threaded their way along the ridges over familiarpaths, and at last debouched upon the little clearing in which theabandoned shanty was situated. On every side stretched the thick woods,traversable only by those who knew their devious paths. To the east ofthe shanty the ridge ended abruptly, there was a sheer descent, andover the tops of the trees on the hillside one could get a splendidview of the distant ocean, the Neck, and Deigr Island beyond the point,with its light faithfully blinking red and white.
“No one about,” exclaimed Kit, peering in at a dark window; “what alark!”
“Now that we’re here,” said Jimmie. “I’m for investigating.”
“By Jove! the window’s unfastened!” cried Kit, already tugging at thesash. In a moment he had it up, and disappeared over the window-sill.He struck a match inside and his companions could see him moving about.Presently he found a candle, lighted it, and set it on the table. “Comeon in,” he called. “Here’s a rummy old pack of cards.” And he kickedthe dec
k of cards across the room.
Deering and Lawrence climbed in and joined him in an interestedexamination of the room. The structure, which contained only this oneroom, it may be said, had been built some years before by a gentlemanof the neighborhood, who had literary tastes, and sought the quietand seclusion of this spot for their development. Of late it had beendisused, however, for a period of six or seven years. There was anold table, a few rickety chairs, and a strong-box, such as the boysused in their caves; aside from these no furniture of any description.The embers of a wood fire glowed on a great hearth at one side of theroom. In a cupboard the boys found several soiled packs of cards, apile of poker chips, and some empty cigarette boxes. “The real dope,I suppose,” Kit commented “is in the strong box, or hid some placeoutside. I reckon we can’t bust into it. What a silly lot of asses; ifthe prefects don’t get on to this, I’m a loser. But what a jolly oldjoint it is, eh?”
“Rather,” said Jimmie. “There’s a pile of dishes in the sinkyonder—they’ve evidently had a feed here this afternoon. There’s livecoals on the hearth. Hmmm—smell the tobacco!”
“Makes my mouth water,” was Kit’s prompt reply. “Let’s fire up,and have our feed here, and leave a note thankin’ ‘em for theirhospitality. It isn’t likely that anybody will turn up this time o’night. Get the bundle, Tony; and you, Jim, lend a hand while we startthe fire.”
The two began industriously to lay a fresh fire on the great andirons,while Tony made for the window. As he reached it there rose before himwhat seemed a monstrous head and body. He gave a cry of alarm. “Greatheavens! who is it?” he screamed.
“Don’t have a fit, Deering; it’s only Maclaren.”
Tony immediately recovered his equilibrium. “Only Maclaren!” herepeated, in a voice of despair. “It’s all up, kiddos.” And he turned awhite face to his amazed companions in the shanty.
“Only Maclaren!” wailed Kit, as he threw his bundle of faggots on thehearth. “You poor fool, there’s Mr. Morris too.”
It was a sorry procession that wound its way back to Standerland thatcold January night. The Doctor was waiting for them in Mr. Morris’sstudy, grown a little impatient at the long delay. The clock had struckeleven before he heard the footsteps on the stairs.
Mr. Morris had rather deprecated explanations on the way back,preferring to let the Head deal with the case himself; nor were theboys much inclined to talk. Upon their arrival at Standerland, Mr.Morris gave a succinct account of their capture, while the Doctorlistened, a cloud gathering upon his brow.
“Well,” he said sternly, as Morris finished, “what were you doing inLovel’s Woods at this time of night? Lawrence, you may answer for thethree.”
“We skipped out just for the lark, sir.”
“You have been in the habit of paying these visits to the Woods?”
“Yes, sir—once in a while, sir,” Jimmie answered, in rather a dolefultone.
“What have you done there?”
“Simply fooled about in our cave, sir.”
“Do you call that shanty your cave?”
“No, sir—our cave is on the east side on the Third Ridge.”
“Well, what were you doing at the shanty?”
“We were investigating it, sir; we had never been there before.”
“None of you?”
“None, sir.”
“Is that true of you, Wilson?”
“I?” exclaimed Kit. “No, sir; that is, sir, I have been there oncebefore, but only on the outside and looked in at the windows.”
“And you, Deering?”
“No, sir, I have never been there before.”
Dr. Forester had turned on Tony like a flash. “How then do you accountfor the fact that a letter addressed to you was found there thisafternoon?”
“A letter addressed to me found there!” exclaimed Tony, in surprise. “Ican’t account for it. I do not know how it got there.”
“Do you know of other boys being there?”
“I believe other boys have been there; yes, sir.”
“Do you know what boys have been there?”
“I really can’t say, sir.”
Tony was growing restless and ill at ease under this severecross-examination. It suddenly dawned upon him, that the Doctor didnot appear to accept his replies as he gave them.... In his quickpassionate southern way he fired with resentment. His face flushed,he stammered in giving his replies, and once or twice inadvertentlycontradicted himself. Jimmie and Kit looked at him in amazement; for amoment the suspicion crossed their minds that Tony had perhaps afterall been going to the shanty with Carroll. Even Morris, who had beenserenely confident that the boys would clear themselves of the chargeof gambling, showed a troubled countenance as the cross-examinationwent on.
“Come, come,” said the Doctor, “I would like you to suggest someexplanation as to how a letter addressed to you was found in thatshanty this afternoon.”
“I don’t account for it,” Tony replied. “I know nothing about it. Iknow nothing about the shanty; I never saw it until to-night.”
“That statement,” commented the Doctor mercilessly, “conflicts withwhat you implied a few moments ago. You allowed me to infer that you doknow what boys go there.”
“Suppose I do,” exclaimed Tony passionately. “Suppose I do—I shan’ttell anything about it. I have never been there, and I have nothing todo with it.”
“Well, sir, there is still another bit of evidence that inevitablysuggests to me the suspicion that you must know more than you admit.The strong-box in that shanty was rifled this afternoon by the HeadPrefect under my direction. In it were found several packs of playingcards, a quantity of poker chips, and a memorandum-book.”
“Well, sir?”
“Do you know anything about that memorandum-book?”
“I do not.”
The Doctor drew it from his pocket as he spoke, and opened it. “I findhere various entries, evidently sums of money owing to certain persons.I find here the entry ‘A. D. to R. C.—$5.’ Between these pages is acheck on the First National Bank of New Orleans drawn by you in yourown favor and endorsed on the back. Do you recollect such a check?”
Tony racked his memory, and recalled at last that a week or so beforehe had given Reggie such a check in payment of a small loan. “I madeout such a check; yes, sir.”
“To whom did you pay it?”
“I decline to tell you, sir.”
“What did you pay it for?”
“In payment of the sum of five dollars which I had borrowed.”
“The boy to whom you paid this will corroborate your statement?”
“Possibly, sir—I don’t know. I certainly shan’t ask him to. I amaccustomed to tell the truth.”
“You decline then to explain to me how this check came to be found inthis memorandum-book in the strong-box of that shanty?”
“I know nothing about it to explain. I paid the check to a friend. Idon’t know how it came to be in the shanty.”
“Have you ever played poker in this school?”
“No, sir; I have not.”
“Could this check have had anything to do with a poker game?”
“I don’t know—not so far as I am concerned.”
“What do you mean by ‘so far as I am concerned’?”
“I mean that I have never played cards for money, or given that checkin payment for a gambling debt. As to whether other boys have gambledin the shanty or elsewhere, I do not know. I have nothing to say.”
“You have broken bounds repeatedly this term?”
“Yes, sir.”
“That will do for to-night. You three boys may go to bed now. Report tome to-morrow morning at the Rectory after Chapel. You will not attendrecitations or take any part in the school activities until this matteris settled.”
The three culprits silently took up their caps and went off to theirrooms; Jimmie and Kit, distressed and alarmed for themselves, but evenmore for Tony; Deering was sullen and angry.
“I would stake my life on his honor,” exclaimed Morris generously.“For a moment I doubted him when he was confronted with your evidence;but there is an explanation for it, I am sure. Perhaps we will findit out; perhaps not. But whether we do or not, I would take Deering’sword.”
“Doubtless you are right. His grandfather was the same sort ofhot-headed chivalrous youth, always in trouble, always refusing toclear himself if there were a shadow of doubt as to involving some oneelse. Nevertheless, this business is to be probed to the bottom, and Ishall be inclined to expel the offenders without mercy. Come, boys, getto bed now; come to see me in the morning. You too, Morris. Good-night.I don’t know when a case of discipline has given me so much distress.”
When they were gone, Morris crossed over to Deering’s room, and tappedon the door. Receiving no reply, he opened it and walked in. As hefound no one in the study, he went into the bedroom, and there hediscovered Tony lying on the bed, shaken by a storm of sobs. Carrollwas sitting by his side, with his arms around him, trying to get someexplanation of his distress.
Reggie looked up at the master. “What is the trouble, Mr. Morris? Ican’t get a word from Tony.”
Morris explained in a few sentences what had happened.
“But, sir—he gave his word?”
“I know, I know,” exclaimed the master. “I believe him absolutely, butI am afraid there is a strong evidence against him that he will have toexplain to the Head.”
“But the Doctor must know that he is telling the truth. I never knewhim to misjudge a boy.”
“Even so—but whether he believes him or not, the Head is forced toprobe the matter. He cannot accept Tony’s refusal to speak, and youmust admit, Reggie, the letter, the check and the memorandum are prettystrong evidence.”
Carroll paled, but he met the master’s gaze firmly. “I can explainthat, sir. The memorandum was made out to a boy who has the sameinitials as Tony. I left the check which Tony had paid me in thememorandum-book by mistake.”
“You—Reginald!”
“Yes, yes—I have been playing poker there all this term, or at leastfor a good part of it. Is it too late to go and tell the Doctor?”
“No, I think not; I believe he would like to know to-night.”
Without a word Carroll rose up and left them.
Morris sat down then on the edge of the bed by Deering’s side, andtried to calm him, making him understand at last what Reggie had done.Then he persuaded him to undress; and waited until he had got into bed;then, with a quiet good-night, he turned out the lights and left himalone.
The Doctor’s study contained a door which gave directly upon thecampus, so that the boys had easy access to him without the formalityof going to the front door of the Rectory and sending their names in bya servant. When the Doctor was busy and did not wish to be disturbed,he placed a little sign in the window to that effect. There was nosuch sign as Reggie stood in the snow outside, at the foot of the fewsteps that led to the study door. The window-shades were up and Carrollcould see the Doctor standing before the fire—a characteristicattitude—his brows knit in perplexity. The boy’s heart went to histhroat, for like every Deal boy the Doctor’s good opinion was whatsecretly he coveted intensely. But there was only a moment’s hesitationbefore he went up boldly and tapped at the door.
The Head Master was surprised to see him at that hour of the night, andwaited a little gravely for his explanation.
Carroll made his confession in a few words, stating the case againsthimself baldly and without a word of palliation. “I have to say, sir,”he concluded, “that I have only come to you to save Deering, who hashad absolutely nothing to do with the affair, and who told you theentire truth. I could not sleep, sir, if I thought you doubted hishonor. Why, sir——”
“Yes, Reginald, I agree with all that you can say about Deering. I havepersistently believed in the boy despite the seemingly strong evidenceagainst him. I am glad you have set me right there. As for yourself,you know that you have behaved badly, and I feel your conduct deeply.But I think you are atoning for it now in the sacrifice you are makingfor your friend. I do not want to know the names of your companions inthis gambling episode, but I want to feel that I may count on you fromthis moment to make an effort to have it stopped.... Make no promises,but give me reason to keep my trust in you from now on.”
He extended his hand. “Good-night now; tell Deering to come to me afterChapel to-morrow morning.”
“Good-night, sir,” said Carroll with a thick voice, as he grasped theDoctor’s hand.
Deering of Deal; Or, The Spirit of the School Page 11