“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.