Fairview," said Phil, doggedly, "and we saw the blaze."
"Oh," exclaimed the proctor, illuminatingly, and then, unconsciously perhaps, he looked at his watch, and noted the lateness of the hour. "You four young gentlemen will call at my office tomorrow—this morning," he hastily corrected himself.
"Yes, sir," answered Tom, with a grim setting of his jaw.
An examination showed that there were no sparks left, and the students were ordered to return to their rooms. The janitors were sent for, to remain on guard and place boards over the hole in the floor.
"Don't you think he has nerve, to tell us to report to him, after what we did?" asked Tom, when, following a rather restless night, he and his chums were on their way to services the next morning. The chapel was not so badly burned, but that it could be used.
"Zane? Oh, he's all nerve!" declared Sid. "I almost wish we'd let it burn!"
"Shut up, you anarchist!" cried Phil. "We'll take our medicine."
But there was none to take. The proctor met them on their way to chapel, and smiled as genially as was possible for him.
"Young gentlemen," he said, "you need not
