The professor, with a low bow, turned away, and hastened off.
“Queer chap,” commented Graydon.
“But as good as gold,” added Bill, and his brothers agreed with him. “To think of him finding my glasses. I wonder how they got there?”
No one answered him, and Mersfeld and North did not hear the question. Perhaps they would not have replied had they listened to it.
A little later the members of the nine were seated in the shade of the two queer wagons, on the long, green grass, beside the road, partaking of the hospitality of Professor Clatter and Tithonus Somnus, who gravely announced that he had changed his name, as well as his trade and that thenceforth he would be known as Cornelius Cutaby.
Proudly he showed the new implement for which he was traveling agent.
“It will do anything from cutting glass to taking an automobile apart,” he declared.
“Well, if it will open some more of that ginger ale, I’ll be glad of it,” remarked Bill. “These olives and ham sandwiches make me thirsty.”
“What ho! Mercurio!” called Professor Clatter. “Pass the ginger ale,” and, having executed his own command he opened the bottles with the combined glass cutter and screw driver, and served to his friends the frothing beverage.
“Now fellows, for the baseball song—‘Strike ’em Out and Run ’em Down!’ and then we’ll go back to school and get ready for the celebration to-night!” suggested Cap, after a pause.