"She can play with it," murmured Bobby, closing the lid softly and running downstairs again so that he might come in with the others when the bell rang.
It had stopped snowing, and the sun was shining warm and bright, dazzling to the eyes. Bobby felt better already, for some mysterious reason, and he plunged into a hilarious game of tag that lasted until the signal rang.
When he went into his classroom he glanced quickly at Miss Mason's desk. It looked as usual, and when the reading lesson was given out, he quickly forgot the hidden snowballs. Palmer Davis was standing up to read a paragraph when the class first heard something.
"Drip! drip! drip!" went a soft little tapping noise.
Miss Mason heard it, too. She thought the pipes in the cloak room had sprung a leak perhaps.
"Teacher!" Tim Roon's hand waved wildly. "Teacher, your desk's leaking!"
Tim, for once, did not have a guilty conscience in connection with a piece of mischief, and he was delighted to have an opportunity to call attention to the fact.
"It's leaking all over!" he volunteered.
"That will do, Tim," said Miss Mason calmly.
She raised her desk lid and peered in. Then she closed it and surveyed her class. Bobby could feel his face getting red. He looked down at his book.