Читать книгу Danforth Plays the Game: Stories for Boys Little and Big онлайн

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“You, Danforth?”

The resident instructor’s voice held both surprise and wrath and Harry, equally surprised and a trifle disconcerted, replied a bit uncertainly:

“Yes, sir?”

Mr. Adams held out a thin arm, from which the sleeve of his sleeping garment fell away, and opened his outstretched hand. In it lay a squashy brown mass. Harry viewed it doubtfully.

“What—what is it, sir?” he asked.

“You know perfectly what it is,” replied the instructor, his voice shaking with anger. “It is an apple, a rotten apple! Your aim was so good, sir, that it landed against my face! A rotten apple! Outrageous, Danforth, outrageous, I say!”

“But—but, Mr. Adams——”

“If that is your idea of a joke, Danforth, I fear we shall have to tame your humor, sir. It’s insulting, sir, insulting!”

“But I didn’t, sir!”

“You didn’t! Oh, certainly not!”

“I was just coming in when you opened your door and——”

“But I asked you and you confessed!” replied Mr. Adams triumphantly. He was growing calmer, but the crimson spots on his thin cheeks told plainly that his anger still held. “Don’t make matters worse by lying, Danforth.”