“Probably, but what then?” questioned Crawford.
“Why—a spread for the Antis now and then, or an excursion down the bay—we footing the bills—will buy over all our crowd, I reckon. As to Green and Coyle, they’ve got to do as we say, till they can pay the money we’ve lent ’em.”
“Well, that is a scheme,” said Crawford, thoughtfully; “I wonder if we can carry it out.”
“Don’t see why not,” replied the other; “and by the way there’s another thing,—we must start in on it to-morrow.”
“Studying, you mean?” queried Crawford.
“We must do that, but that was not what I was thinking of. We must stir up a rumpus in the class-room to-morrow.”
“How can we? and why not wait till we go back?”
“Why, don’t you see that if there is no disorder while we’re away, and plenty of it after we come back, Bobby’ll lay it all at our door. As to how—let’s call a meeting of the Antis here this evening. We can plan enough to make things lively in the school-room for a week to come, and if we promise the fellows a spread next week, they’ll be ready enough to carry out our plans.”
So it was that a message reached every one of the Antis before six o’clock that evening, and almost every one responded to the call. Some of them were really bad boys, more were neither good nor bad, but ready to follow any leader who promised them “fun.”
The session that day had been the most quiet and orderly one of the year, and Mr. Horton had thought to himself that he might hope for a continuance of this state of things for two weeks, at least. He found out his mistake before an hour of the second day was over. There was no act of open disorder or disobedience, but the Antis were restless and noisy, ready to laugh at the slightest excuse, and to keep on laughing as long as they dared.