"I broke the other bottle," he said. "I'd like permission to clean up the mess I made."
He came back to Room 13 with the ink; nor did he know that, as he passed up the stairs with the bottle in his hands, Littlefield saw him through an open door of the gym and cried a hurried word over his shoulder to others within the place.
From the home room Perry went down to the manual training department in a basement wing. From the janitor's storeroom he got water in a pail, a brush and some sand. In the wood shop he got varnish stain.
Room 13 was deserted when he came back to it. On his knees, he wet the brush, spread sand over the red splash, and began to rub. It was hard work. The sweat ran down his face, and he took off his collar and opened his shirt at the throat. By and by he mopped up the water and sand and surveyed his labors. The red was fading out.
An hour passed, and then the sand had rubbed off the varnish down to the white boards. His hands and wrists and arms ached. Slowly, carefully, he dried the floor, and then began to fan it with a book. Thirty minutes passed. The floor was dry to his touch. He took the varnish stain and painted over the spot where the ink had been spilled. When he was finished, the floor, save
