“It’s Teddy Burke,” muttered a boy to his nearest classmate. “Wonder what he’s done.”
Miss Alton had now brought up between two seats at the rear of the room. In one of them sat a little girl, her head buried in her arms. Directly opposite her sat a red-haired boy. His thin face wore an expression of deep disgust, but his big black eyes were dancing with mischief. As the teacher approached, he made an ineffectual dive toward a grayish object on the floor. Miss Alton was too quick for him. She stooped, uttered a half-horrified exclamation, then gathered the object in. It was a most terrifying imitation of a snake, made of rubber, and coiled realistically.
“Theodore Burke, what does this mean?” she demanded, holding out the snake and glaring at the offender.
The little girl raised her head from her arms and eyed the culprit with reproachful horror. “He put it on my seat,” she accused. “I thought it was alive, and it scared me awful.” Her voice rose to a wail on the last word.
“This is too much. You’ve gone just a little too far, young man. Come with me.” Miss Alton stood over the red-haired lad, looking like a grim figure of Justice.
The boy shot a glance of withering scorn at his tearful victim, then rose from his seat.
Grasping him none too gently by the arm, Miss Alton piloted him down the aisle and out of the door. It closed with a resounding bang.
A buzz of conversation began in the big schoolroom. Two or three little girls left their seats and gathered about the heroine of the disquieting adventure, while half a dozen boys of the eighth grade of the West Park Grammar School put their heads together to discuss this latest bit of mischief on the part of their leader and idol, Teddy Burke.
Meanwhile, Teddy, of the black eyes and Titian hair, was being marched rapidly toward the principal’s office.
Miss Alton flung open the door and ushered him into the august presence of Mr. Waldron, the principal, with, “Here is an incorrigible boy, Mr. Waldron.”