flung against walls reached his ears; he emerged then and saw the
confusion at the end of the corridor. Allison was suspended two or three
feet above the floor, by a rope knotted under his arms; it was the rope
that was used for raising trunks up to the loft above. In lowering it
from the loft some one had trespassed on forbidden ground. Westby,
Collingwood, Dennison, Scarborough, and half a dozen others were
gathered, enjoying Allison’s ludicrous struggles. His plight was not
painful, only absurd; and Irving himself could not at first keep back a
smile. But he came forward and said,—

“Oh, look here, fellows, whoever is responsible for this will have to
climb up and release Allison.”

Westby turned with his engaging smile.

“Yes, but, Mr. Upton, who do you suppose is responsible? I don’t see how
we can fix the responsibility, do you?”

“I will undertake to fix it,” said Irving. “Westby, suppose you climb
that ladder and let Allison down.”

“I don’t think you’re approaching this matter in quite a judicial
spirit, Mr. Upton,” said Westby. “Of course no man wants to be
arbitrary; he wants to be just. It really seems to me, Mr. Upton, that
no action should be taken until the matter has been more thoroughly
sifted.”

The other boys, with the exception of Allison, were chuckling at this
glib persuasiveness. Westby stood there, in a calmly respectful, even
deferential attitude, as if animated only by a desire to serve the