One of the boys rose oratorically. "Gentlemen, this is a question of veracity which, I may say, affects us all. Either the accused did or did not kiss the lady. If he did not, then he is guilty of slander, false witness, breach of truth and attempted oscular embezzlement, and he owes us and the photograph an apology." (In vain Conroy tried to stop him.) "His present manner is the demeanour of guilt. I move that if he did not kiss said maiden lady, he be compelled to go down on his knees before the counterfeit presentment thereof and sing the Doxology."
Conroy attempted to escape, but those nearest caught him before he was free of his chair and forced him down in it and held him there. "Oh, say, fellows," he pleaded, "don't be a lot of d"
The others closed in on him, laughing like a circle of savages about a torture. It was evident from their manner that while they accepted Conroy's hospitality, they were accustomed to make him the butt of their sport. "Guilty or not guilty?"
"None of your business," he gasped.
The orator raised his voice. "The prisoner refuses to plead. This is a case for the thirty-third degree as it is administered to Freshmen. Will someone kindly bring a hair-brush. Remove the prisoner's"
Conroy screamed, "Not guilty!"
Then to an accompaniment of uproarious laughter and in a confusion of voices and above a continual scuffling and crowding for place, the examination continued:
"Did you, or did you not, kiss the same and aforesaid maiden lady?"
