"Tell 'im he's wanted at Bert Shepperd's farm jus' fast as he can get there! There's been a awful accident! A man fell into a thrashin' machine and was all chewed up—"
"Who is this?" demanded the barber.
"Tell 'im to hurry up or he'll be too late!" shouted Sube as he slammed on the receiver and slipped quickly out of the door.
He proceeded to a point where he could command a view of the barber shop, and crouching behind an ash-barrel, watched for developments.
And as he watched he gave way to mutterings of a vengeful nature. "He'll pump Joe McInness dry, will he!—He will, hey!—An' then he'll tell my dad all about it, will he!—Well, I'll show 'im!—He can't come that on me—"
At this moment he saw Dr. Richards come hurrying out of the barber shop, struggling into his overcoat as he came; and as he stood, buttoning it, beside his runabout which stood at the curb, Sube heard him call to some one who had not yet come within his range of vision.
"Want to go for a little ride?"
An instant later the person thus addressed came into view. It was Sube's father. Sube saw him cast an inquiring glance at the sky from which the rain was no longer falling, and then clamber into the runabout. He could distinctly hear them laughing as they lighted cigars and drove rapidly away.
Sube stood up and brushed the moist ashes from his clothes. It was no use; everything was against him. He was both late and wet when he reached school, and his brow was more clouded than the sky; but it cleared wonderfully when a terrific downpour began shortly after he took his seat. As the deluge continued his spirits rose in spite of the fact that Miss Wheeler had notified him of her intention to detain him after school in retaliation for his unexcused tardiness.
As is often the case his mental exaltation took literary form, and, a forward pass having been fumbled, he was required to pick up from the floor and read aloud a cryptic epistle intended for the private consideration of Mr. Gizzard Tobin.