indignation, why did they not expostulate? But no,
they said not a word. He would have been glad to hear their side, but at
his first harsh words, they simply stood there. Yet this attempt at
reaching him by note was a good sign. But why did they not give some
evidence of regret? Their manner was not at all that of boys who felt
they had seriously offended. And Frank, why _had he_ not come like a man
to talk it over? "I had thought," he reflected, "that Frank Mulvy had
more consideration and more heart."

His eye fell just then on a half-torn sheet of paper on the floor. He
picked it up from under the chair and found on it these lines:

"Dear Father: We are all terribly cut up and Frank most of all. We don't
mind what's done nor what may happen to us, but we feel awfully sorry
for. . . . . . ."

That was all. That scrawl of Ned's fairly upset the priest. It was so
candid, so genuine, so earnest. And it was not intended for anyone's
eyes. It was an unsuccessful attempt to utter what was in the heart.
Under the stress of the situation it was the most natural thing for the
boys to leave the table littered with scraps to be swept up by the
janitor next morning. His own coming in was an accident.

He got some relief in considering that these boys had stayed after the
others, and filled eight or ten pages in an effort to explain. It meant
that they were all right. He had known it all along! He had had to do
violence to himself to believe that they would be guilty of anything
inconsiderate. He knew how they felt towards him. These notes were a
proof. Boys who were not grateful and considerate would not go to such
pains to rectify matters. And here he had been for three days, firmly
set against them. Perhaps it was their very regard for him that had kept
back the explanations. He felt happy in thinking so, for his boys meant
a great deal to him. Tomorrow he would waive all formalities and
precedents and settle things. He would hit the nail right on the head,
state his feelings and his amazement at what had occurred and take
whatever explanation they gave. These notes showed him that at heart the
boys were the right kind. And that was the main thing.

He had got so far, when back again came the scene that had met his eyes
when he entered the Club rooms with the janitor. Broken chairs, pictures
down, ink on the floor, overturned tables.

"No . . ." thought he, "that is too much; for such vandalism there should
have been an