Left End Edwards Part 22

"Oh, come, Steve!" expostulated Tom patiently. "You know very well you shoved him first. What's the use of being sore about that?"

"He b.u.mped into me," denied Steve. "I didn't shove."

"Well, you gave a mighty good imitation of it," replied Tom drily.

"Seems to me it was about an even thing, and I'd forget it, Steve."

"Maybe you would," muttered Steve, "but I don't intend to."

CHAPTER XVII

THE BLUE-BOOK

It was almost half-past nine when they got back to the room. An hour in the society of Roy and Harry had done wonders for Steve's spirits, and on the way upstairs he cheerfully announced that he intended to tackle that geometry before he went to bed. As Tom switched the light on, Steve's glance encountered a piece of paper on the floor. It had evidently been slipped in under the door.

"Who's this from?" he muttered as he bore it to the table. "Someone was too lazy to open the door and come in."

"What is it?" asked Tom, bending over Steve's shoulder.

"It's from that idiot Durkin," chuckled the latter. "'Got just what you fellows need. Shoe-blacking stand, two brushes, all complete. Cheap.

Come and see it. P. Durkin.'"

"A shoe-blacking stand!" laughed Tom. "Say, he must have seen your shoes, Steve."

"Must have seen yours, you mean!" Steve crumpled the note up and dropped it in the basket under the table. "I guess we don't want any more of Mr. Durkin's bargains."

"Still, this 'Morris' chair turned out pretty well," said Tom, settling himself in it with a book. "And perhaps if we had that thing you'd keep your shoes looking better."

"Well, there's one thing about my shoes," returned Steve good-naturedly, "and that is the heels are blacked. Which is more than you can say of yours, my smart young friend."

Tom was about to deny the imputation when footsteps sounded in the corridor and there came a knock on the door.

"Come in," said Tom very politely. That step could only be Mr. Daley's, he thought. And when the door opened he found his surmise correct. Mr.

Daley looked more nervous and embarra.s.sed than usual as he entered.

"Good-evening, boys," he said. "I--er--I wonder if I might speak to you just a moment, Edwards."

"Certainly, sir."

"I'll get out, Mr. Daley," said Tom, rising.

"Er--well, if you don't mind, Hall; just for a minute. Thank you so much."

Tom went out, closing the door behind him, and Mr. Daley cleared his throat.

"Will you sit down, sir?" asked Steve.

"Er--thanks, yes, just for a minute. I--er--I believe you called this evening when I was out, Edwards."

"Yes, sir, about eight."

"Yes, yes. Sorry I was not in. I wonder if--if you happened to see a blue-book on my table when you were there, Edwards."

"Yes, sir, there was one there," replied Steve after an instant's hesitation.

"Ah, then Upton was not mistaken. He says he left one. Unfortunately, I am not able to find it, Edwards. You--er--you don't happen to know where it is, Edwards?"

"I, sir!" Steve's tone was incredulous. "Why, no, Mr. Daley. It was on the table when I left, and----"

"Er--just a moment!" Mr. Daley held up a hand, smiling nervously. "I don't mean to suggest that you carried the book off intentionally, Edwards, but it occurred to me that possibly you might have--er--taken it up by mistake, absentmindedly, so to say, and--er--brought it up here with you."

"No, sir, I didn't." Steve looked at the instructor questioningly. "I don't see why you'd imagine that, sir, either."

"Er--well, I knew--that is, someone told me that you were in my room, Edwards, and I thought--that possibly--quite by accident--you had--er----"

"I was in your room, Mr. Daley, and I waited two or three minutes for you; maybe longer; and the blue-book was on the table when I went in and it was there when I came out."

"You--you had a blue-book in your hand, however, did you not, when you--er--left?"

"A blue-book? No, sir."

"Oh! That is strange, Edwards. You are certain you didn't take down a blue-book of your own and bring it back again?"

"Absolutely sure, sir."

"But--er--someone saw you leave my room, Edwards, with a blue-book in your hand."

Steve flushed and his voice held an angry tremor as he answered: "Someone was mistaken, Mr. Daley, whoever he was. Seems to me, sir, if the book is missing, you'd better ask that 'someone' about it."

"Um; yes; maybe." Mr. Daley blinked embarra.s.sedly. "I--er--I thought that perhaps you had brought down your French composition and had possibly, in leaving, taken up Upton's book with your own by mistake.

You--er--you're quite sure that didn't happen, Edwards?"

"I'm positive, because I haven't done my composition, sir."

"Haven't done it?"

"No, sir," replied Steve a trifle defiantly.

"But--er--it's pretty late, and you know they are to be handed in to-morrow, Edwards. You are having trouble with it?"

"I--I haven't started it yet. I--I just can't do it, Mr. Daley. I never could do original things like that. That's why I went down to see you. I wanted to ask if you'd let me have a couple more days for it. You see, sir, I've been having a pretty hard time with Latin, and--and there hasn't been any time for the composition, sir."

"I see." Mr. Daley viewed Steve dubiously. "I'm sorry, Edwards. I'm afraid you are not--er--trying very hard to accomplish your work these days."

"I am trying, sir, but--but the Latin--" Steve hesitated. "Mr. Simkins is awfully hard on me, Mr. Daley, and----"