“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.”