So after luncheon he followed Westby and spoke to him outside of the dining-room. “Westby,” he said, “do you think that considering the circumstances three sheets is excessive?” Westby looked surprised; then he shrugged his shoulders. “I’m not asking any favors,” he replied. Irving laughed. “No,” he said, “I see you’re not. But I’m afraid I must deny you the pleasure of martyrdom. I’ll ask you to take a note to Mr. Elwood—he’s in charge of the Study, isn’t he? I’ll tell him that you’re to write a sheet and a half instead of three sheets.” He drew a note-book from his pocket and tore out one of the pages. Westby looked at him curiously—as if in an effort to determine just how poor-spirited this sudden surrender was. Irving spoke again before writing. “By the way, will you please ask Collingwood to come here?” When Westby returned with Collingwood, Irving had the note written and handed it to him; there was no excuse for Westby to linger. He went over and waited by the door, while Irving said,— “Collingwood, why didn’t you come up and ask me to reduce your report? Didn’t you think it was unfair?” “Yes,” Collingwood answered promptly. “Well, then—why didn’t you come to me and say so?” Collingwood thought a moment. “Well,” he said, “you had such fun in soaking me that I wasn’t going to give you the additional satisfaction of seeing me cry baby.” “I’ll learn something about boys sometime—if you fellows will keep on educating me,” observed Irving. “I think your performance of yesterday deserves about a sheet; we’ll make it that.” He scribbled a note and handed it to the boy. “Thank you, Mr. Upton.” Collingwood tucked the note into his pocket with a friendly smile, and then joined Westby. “Knock you down to half a sheet?” asked Westby, as they departed in the direction of the Study, where they were to perform their tasks. “No; a sheet.” “Mine’s one and a half now. What got into him?” “He’s not without sense,” said Collingwood. “Ho!” Westby was derisive. “He’s soft. He got scared. He knew he’d gone too far—and he was afraid to stand by his guns.” “I don’t think so. I think he’s just trying to do the right thing.” It was unfortunate for Irving that later in the afternoon Carter of the Fifth Form—who played in the banjo club with Westby—was passing the Study building just as Westby was coming out from his confinement. “Hello, Wes!” said Carter. “Thought you were in for three sheets; how do you happen to be at large so soon?” “Kiddy made it one and a half—without my asking him,” said Westby. “And Collingwood the same?” “He made his only a sheet.” “That’s it,” said Carter shrewdly. “I was waiting to see the rector this morning; the door was open, and he had Kiddy in there with him. I guess he was lecturing him on those reports; I guess he told him he’d have to take off a couple of sheets.”