“Yes. It’s the only means by which I can have any peace. I know you don’t mean any harm, but I never know what is going to happen next. I have arranged for you to go away to boarding school—the Westfield Academy, as you know. The term does not open in two weeks, but I can’t stand this any longer. Mrs. Murdock, help the boys to pack up. I’m going to send them to school at once, and have them out of the way. I have been thinking of this, and I wrote to Dr. Burton, president of Westfield, asking if they could come. He said they might, so get ready to go, boys.”
Mr. Smith tried to speak severely, but there was a half smile on his lips. The boys said nothing for a few seconds. Then Cap softly cried:
“Hurrah for Westfield!”
“I’m afraid I haven’t quite made the punishment fit the crime,” said Mr. Smith softly, as he turned away. “But off you go, boys. You’ll start to-morrow, and I hope you will like it. You may be a bit lonesome at first, but it will give you a chance to get acquainted with the school and grounds before the other students arrive. Now I’ll have a little quietness,” and Mr. Smith went to his library, while the boys executed a noiseless war dance.
“Oh, those boys! Those boys!” exclaimed the housekeeper throwing up her hands hopelessly.
How they managed to get ready on such short notice the brothers hardly knew, but they accomplished it, and the next afternoon, having bidden their friends good-bye, they took the train for Westfield Academy, an institution of learning about one hundred miles away.
“Now remember,” called Mr. Smith after them, “no more practical jokes.”
“That’s right,” promised Cap. “We’re going to play baseball as soon as the spring season opens.”