I met the boys in the hall, however, and we all three proceeded to the basement to find out what progress the laundresses were making. The hot weather had played havoc with our things, and they had kindly undertaken them. We were vastly amused at the results of their labors, a few pairs of socks and a badly scorched shirt of my own apparently representing the work of something over an hour. They pleaded the interruption of the accident, a defective electric iron, the stained condition of the socks which they had had to rewash, and lastly that they had dealt with several garments of the feminine gender which their maidenly modesty did not allow them either to mention or produce.
Ethel retaliated by asking for details of Kenneth’s and Ralph’s movements since supper-time and refused to be satisfied with the reply that they had been for a stroll to get cool. She asked them to state specifically where they had been, and they looked, I thought, not a little confused. Kenneth definitely reddened, and she was unkind enough to call our general attention to the fact, and to say that his efforts to get cool must have sent a rush of blood to the head. We stood chafing one another pleasantly in this way for some little time, and I dare say it was after half past ten when I left them at it and went to bed.
I switched on the landing light from the bottom of the stairs, and when I got to the top I found that The Tundish had written out a notice and had stuck it up above the landing switch, so that we should all see it on our way to bed. It read:
Please let a fellow get some sleep to-night and don’t wake him up by telling one another to be quiet.
Sgd., The Tundish.
I took it down and going into my room I found that the ink in my fountain pen was identical in color—as I half expected it would be, having filled it only the previous day from the ink-well in the consulting-room—and that by writing with the back of the nib I could imitate the thin strokes with which the doctor had written, I quickly added the words:
dark deeds are done at night
and stuck it up again in its old position. I made what I thought a very creditable copy of the doctor’s print, having imitated to a nicety his flat-topped a’s and sloping d’s. My forgery completed, I got into bed.
The others came up before I got to sleep and I heard them discussing it in whispers and then a little later calling out to one another to “Just come and look here,” with a great deal of laughing and running about from room to room. Next I heard Kenneth say: “Shall we go and pull him out of bed?” and Ethel reply that she believed it was I and not The Tundish at all. This was followed by a declaration that, whoever it was, they would deal with him to-morrow, and the household gradually settled down into silence and sleep.
Next morning, Wednesday, I was up betimes and out in the garden before breakfast. The Tundish joined me there. We were just going in in answer to the gong when he said: “By the way, your addition to my little effort of last night was remarkably apt, for I played Old Harry with all their bedrooms before I went to bed.” He went on to tell me that he had made a realistic skeleton with the aid of a bag of golf clubs in Kenneth’s bed, sticking the clubs down the legs and arms of his pajamas and utilizing a pair of shoe trees for the ears. Ethel’s bed he had peppered with tennis and golf balls carefully placed beneath the under blanket, and Margaret’s and Ralph’s had also received treatment.
In spite of the merry twinkle in his eyes, such a practical joke seemed to be entirely out of keeping with his character, and although I am sure I gave no visible signs of my surprise, he might almost have read my thoughts, for he said at once, “Yes, I surprised myself too, but I fancy that I must have been a trifle fey last night. I shall have to look out to-night though, for they are sure to attempt revenge.”