Mr. Roylston perceptibly sniffed at the word _caricature_. “Gratuitous insult, it were better termed,” he ejaculated. “Well, sir, I can’t undo it ... I only wish I could. I apologize to you, sir, ... unreservedly.” Mr. Roylston appeared to choose his words with even more than his usual care. “I accept the apology, of course, technically. But naturally it does not atone for the offense.” “No,” said Tony, “I know it does not.” For a moment there was silence. “You are curious to know what I propose to do?” asked Mr. Roylston, with a note of sarcasm. “No—no, sir,” replied Tony ingenuously. “I don’t think that matters, sir. I only hope you believe what I say, that I am truly sorry for what has occurred.” He had worded his sentence unfortunately, for the master took it as a quibble. “Yes,” he replied tartly, “I can well believe that you are sorry for what has _occurred_.” “I don’t mean——” began Tony. “That will do,” said Mr. Roylston dryly. “I have gathered enough of your meaning for the once. No—I do not mean to punish you.” A bitter smile flickered over his face. “As I sought to explain in my note, which I had every intention should put a period to the incident, our punishments in this school are not adapted to the case. One has but two alternatives in such affairs,—to expel or to ignore persons capable of such conduct. I have concluded to ignore. I bid you good evening.” Tony opened his mouth to speak again, but closed it quickly, and with a slight inclination of his head, turned and left the room. “He means to rub it in by slow degrees, by his peculiar and unspeakable methods of torture,” was Jimmie’s comment when Tony had told him of the interview later. “You were an ass not to let me share the responsibility. The Gumshoe accept an apology! why, he hasn’t the charity of a mosquito. As Kit would say,” he added thoughtfully, “he is ‘a gloomy ass.’ Well, I reckon, Tonio, old sport, we’ll have to chuck _The Spectacle_.” “Hang it, of course, we will. It was a poor fool sheet, Jim; rather a sad business for two good little schoolboys like us to be taken up with.” “And like most wicked things, amusing,” remarked Reggie from the depths of an armchair where he had been an interested hearer of the conversation. “Like most forbidden things, diverting.” “What a crude philosopher you sometimes are, Reggie,” said Lawrence. “One looks to you for illuminating comment—not for the obvious platitude.” “True, my poet,” drawled Carroll, “but there are moments when one inadvertently sinks below one’s normal level. But adieu to some diverting moments!” “Thanks! Adieu, too, to my Addisonian English! I wish we could as easily bid adieu to the consequences.” “I fancy it will be a long time before you say farewell to those, my young friends.” “Hm, he evidently doesn’t mean to take it to the Head,” said Tony.