Tom was detected in the act of attempting to communicate with Harry, the note was confiscated by Miss Clinton, and Tom himself straightway sent to the platform, where he whiled away the dreary, lagging moments by driving an imaginary automobile over the hills at a terrific speed, much to the envy of his schoolmates.
“I’ll ask everyone of ’em to ride, except Miss Clinton,” he pondered, planning revenge for his present predicament. “And then I guess she’ll wish she hadn’t punished me.”
Noon came at last, as all noons do, and then the note was presented to Miss Clinton by little Dick, though by this time it was very much the worse for frequent fingering. The little fellow had not been able to keep his hands off the precious thing for longer than five minutes at a time. First he had to make sure that it really was in his pocket. Then again he took just one peep inside to reassure himself that it asked that he and his brothers be excused from the afternoon session. Each time he took it out, he patted it lovingly, and therefore it now bore many a print of chubby and very smudgy finger tips.
Miss Clinton’s consent was readily given, for rules in the country districts are not so iron-clad as in the more crowded city schools, and away hastened the boys for the noonday meal at home.
It proved to be rather a tempestuous one, and Mrs. Treat was glad indeed when chairs were pushed back from the board and the restive group betook themselves to the wide, shady veranda. It commanded a splendid view of the road toward Springfield, for it mounted a gradual ascent of a mile or more before it scurried over and down again in its eagerness to reach the city.
“I wonder what Billy will do when he sees the machine,” piped up little Dick, as they settled themselves comfortably in hammock and in spacious, comfortable porch chairs.
“Well, he has seen plenty of autos go by here, and after all his experiences with the Circus this summer, he ought to behave, I’m sure,” said Mrs. Treat uneasily, for she was never quite sure that she understood Billy and all his varying moods.
Now Billy overheard this remark, for he was just around the corner of the house, on the outside cellar door, this being his favorite spot on warm afternoons.
In fact, he was very fond of luxury, and always took a siesta after a hearty meal and during the heated portion of the day.
“Don’t be too sure of that, Mrs. Treat,” soliloquized mischievous Billy. “I am not so old yet that I shall rest content without occasional adventures. I really believe I am beginning to be a trifle bored, now that I think of it. Nothing interesting has happened in this countryside for a whole month, and it is high time that I stir up the community a bit. It really seems too ba—”