Rather sheepishly Ned, Bob and Jerry filed into the library, and took seats. Mrs. Hopkins was seated at a table with her two guests, and on this there appeared to be a pile of books, over which a newspaper was thrown, as though to conceal them from view, temporarily at least.
“Seems to me you young men might be a little more quiet in approaching a lady’s house,” remarked Mr. Slade, looking at his son; and his voice was not as good-natured as usual.
“Oh, well, Dad,” came the response, “you see we just had a little race, to decide who’d buy the ice cream sodas, and we did make rather a strenuous finish of it, I guess.”
“I should say so!” exclaimed Mr. Baker, looking at his son. “I thought it was a mad-dog chase at least, banging up on the steps that way. But it only goes to show that it’s high time we took some action in your cases.”
“That’s right,” put in Mr. Slade, with a vigorous nod.
The three chums looked wonderingly at one another.
“Surely they can’t be going to punish us just for a little prank like that,” thought Jerry. His mother looked at him and smiled.
“Well, I don’t mind a little noise,” she said. “But I really think it is time something was done to subdue the lads a little. They are getting a bit too much out of hand.”
“We haven’t acted a bit too soon,” murmured Mr. Slade.