He caught only a brief glimpse of Arnold that forenoon and when dinner time came he awaited his chum’s arrival anxiously. He knew Arnold too well to expect him to fall on his neck, so to speak, but it wouldn’t be hard to discover whether he was willing to make up. Arnold would probably say “Hello, T. Tucker,” and grin a little, and that’s all there’d be to it, and Toby would know that it was all right! But it didn’t happen that way at all. Arnold came in late, seated himself without so much as a glance across the table at Toby and entered into conversation with Kendall. Toby’s heart fell. Arn wasn’t going to forgive him! Then the comforting thought came to him that perhaps Arnold hadn’t been to his room yet and so hadn’t read the note. That was undoubtedly the explanation, and Toby recovered his spirits and ate a very satisfactory dinner. It was almost as though they were friends again, for, although Arnold didn’t know it, there was that note awaiting him upstairs, and when he had read it everything would be fine once more! So Toby got up from the table quite contentedly and rattled up two flights of stairs to his room in order to put in a quarter of an hour at history before a two o’clock recitation. And he whistled merrily until he threw the door open and saw a square blue-gray envelope lying there. It was one of Arnold’s envelopes. He had written instead of――of――Toby picked up the note sadly and went to the window with it. “Just being sorry (he read) doesn’t make up for what you said. You made accusations that you knew were false. When you acknowledge that they are false I will accept an appology and not before. “Respectfully, “ARNOLD DEERING.” Toby sighed. “And he spelled ‘apology’ with two P’s,” he muttered, as though that was the last straw. “And he’s still angry. Gee, I can’t go and tell him that I know Frank didn’t swipe that money, because I know he _did_. I suppose I might tell a lie about it, though. I wish――I wish Frank would choke!” He slipped the note back into the envelope, thrust it impatiently into the drawer and closed the drawer with a vindictive _bang_. “All right, then, he can stay mad. I’m not going to say what isn’t so for him or any one else. ‘Just being sorry doesn’t make up for it!’ I’d like to know what else you can be but sorry. If he thinks it’s so easy to――to be sorry――I mean say you’re sorry and apologize, then why doesn’t he do a little of it? He makes me tired! I don’t care a fig whether――” Toby paused right there in his muttering, swallowed hard and looked sheepish. “Gee,” he thought, “I nearly did it again! I’m glad Doctor Collins didn’t hear me! I guess the hard thing about controlling your temper is to know when you’re not!” With which cryptic reflection Toby made his way sadly downstairs just as the two o’clock bell began to ring. CHAPTER XIX A PAIR OF GLOVES