“There’s something wrong,” went on Sid, “but we can’t get to the bottom of it now. If there was someone in our room we want to know it.”
“Well, there was,” declared Tom, positively. “I know it!”
“Anyhow, I saw you going out,” resumed Phil. “I wondered what was up, but I thought maybe you felt sick, and was going to the medicine cabinet at the end of the corridor. So I went back to bed, and when you didn’t return in ten minutes I roused Sid and Frank.”
“And you found Sid in bed?” demanded Tom.
“Sleeping like a babe—the result of an innocent conscience. Was it not?” asked Sid, with an air of virtue.
“Yes, little one,” came from Phil, with a bow.
“Then we all speculated on what could be the matter with you,” added Frank.
“And we were about to organize a relief expedition, with six months’ supply of rations, and start out,” was Sid’s contribution.
“When in you came prancing as though you had been out for a constitutional,” concluded Phil.
“Telling us that you had been exercising,” commented Sid, sarcastically. “Talk about following me in a suspicious manner, I rather think the dancing slipper is on the other foot, my friend.”