“Well; how about it?” asked Bill.
“It was all right—even the interruption,” replied Cap.
There came a sudden knock on the door. The brothers, who were not the only occupants of their adjoining rooms looked at each other with fear in their eyes.
“Gentlemen, are you in bed?” demanded the unmistakable voice of the proctor.
“Ye—yes!” exclaimed Bill, making an appealing motion to his brothers. With a single motion they threw themselves, dressed as they were, upon the covers, while Bill extinguished the single candle. “We’re in bed, Mr. McNibb.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” was the grim retort. “I thought I saw a light through the key hole.”
“No—no, sir,” declared Pete. The room was in darkness but the smell of a recently extinguished candle was only too evident.
“Very well,” and the proctor passed on, leaving the Smith boys to recover of near-heart-failure as best they might.
The banquet given by our heroes was the talk of the school for several days—wireless talk, of course, for it would never do to have it come to the ears of those in authority. Those who had not been favored with an invitation were wondering how they could cultivate the good graces of our friends, and the lucky ones who had attended were wondering when there would be another spread.
There was hard baseball practice the day following the little affair, and, for some reason Bill was a little off in his pitching.