Never had Mr. Horton been so perplexed and so worried and tormented in his class-room, as in the weeks that followed the return of Crawford and Henderson. Having no clue to the real state of the case, he was completely deceived, and took the greatest satisfaction in the change in these two, while at the same time he was at his wit’s end to understand what caused the increasing disorder and disturbance in the room, and who was at the bottom of it all.
The L. A. O.’s, after much persuasion, had induced three of the Antis to change sides, so that now there were twenty-three L. A. O.’s and thirteen Antis besides Crawford and Henderson. One boy had left the class, and Clark belonged to neither side, so the L. A. O.’s had a large majority; but all the same, thirteen bad boys, especially with two such leaders as Crawford and Henderson, can accomplish a deal of mischief, and this thirteen certainly did.
Could Mr. Horton have been an unseen listener at a spread given to the Antis by Crawford and Henderson at the rooms of the former, he would have understood the matter, for the boys, as they disposed of the feast, laughed and rejoiced over the success of their schemes, and planned yet more and more exasperating trials for their long-suffering instructor.
Among those present at Crawford’s “spread” was Charlie Reed. Thus far Reed had looked upon life as a huge joke, and his one purpose was to get as much fun as possible out of every hour in the day. He had refused to join the L. A. O.’s, because he declared that there was “no fun” in keeping the rules and working for honors. So he was always ready to carry out any mischievous suggestion of the Antis, and not a little of the class disorder might justly have been laid at his door. And after all, he meant no harm. With him it was pure thoughtlessness and love of mischief. One of his favorite amusements was to adorn the blackboard, out of school hours, with absurd sketches of the boys or of the teachers.
One morning before school he had drawn a sketch of a very dudish young man and a lady arrayed in bridal costume; and, lest anybody should fail to recognize the intended likenesses, he had written above this artistic production the legend, “Bobby leading Miss Carr to the altar.”
The boys shouted, as Reed finished his sketch, for Miss Carr was the oldest teacher in the school, certainly twice Mr. Horton’s age, and not at all prepossessing in appearance.
Suddenly a boy at the window called out, “Hi, fellows—look over there. There she comes now, and isn’t she a daisy!”
The boys rushed to the window. It was a rainy morning, and Miss Carr, in waterproof and overshoes, was picking her way through the puddles, and, as it happened, Mr. Horton, who had overtaken her a moment before, was holding his umbrella over her head as they crossed the street.
In watching these two, the boys forgot all about the sketch on the board, even Reed himself never giving it a thought, and there it was when Clark, a moment later, entered the room, Mr. Horton being only a few steps behind him. At that instant somebody cried out in smothered tones, “You’re in for it, Reedy. Look at the board.”
Reed started up with a cry of dismay, but dropped into his seat again as he heard Mr. Horton’s voice in the hall.