"Not if she pauses to think what you did to help another mother out," hinted Dave.
"Well, good night, fellows," called Dick as he reached his corner. "We've had a bully time, but that won't get us up early in the morning."
The bookstore was due to close at nine o'clock, but it was twenty-five minutes after that hour when Dick swung in through the front door.
"Mother, here's the boy," called Mr. Prescott, being the first to espy the returning son. "Young man, you'll have to give your mother a good account of yourself. She's been worrying about you."
"Oh, I knew Dick was in no great danger," laughed Mrs. Prescott, coming forward to kiss her son, now that her worry had ended pleasantly. "But, Richard, you're still a bit young to stay out so late."
"I suppose, mother, that depends a bit upon what I've been doing, doesn't it?"
"Why, has anything happened out of the usual?"
"I'll tell you about it," agreed the lad.
"Wait until I put up the shutters and lock the door," directed his father. "Then we'll all go upstairs."
Gathered on the floor above, the Prescotts listened in amazement to what their son narrated.