“I didn’t think anybody’d find out,” said Tom doggedly.
“No, I don’t suppose you did,” laughed Mr. Ellsworth.
“John Temple spoiled it for you,” said Doc.
“You can’t get the best of that man!” shouted Pee-wee. “There’s no use trying!”
“Tom,” said Garry, simply, “I was always glad I turned Stanton over to you, but now I’m gladder than ever. You can see yourself what you’ve done for Raymond.”
“Yes, and we can all see what kind of a pal Raymond has, too,” Roy shot back. “You’ll be leader of a swell patrol some day, Garry, or I miss my guess.”
Garry only smiled. “All things come round to him who waits,” said he.
“Come here, Tom,” said Mr. Ellsworth. “If there was a merit badge for this sort of thing you’d be a star scout tomorrow. Come over here, my boy.”
There was the faintest reminder of the old hoodlum shuffle in Tom’s clumsy gait as he went sheepishly across the deck and leaned against the boat’s rail near his scoutmaster, speechless, almost expressionless. The book-strap was drawn absurdly tight around his waist. The old, worn, faded gray flannel shirt that he wore was a sight. But upon the back of it, such as it was, Mr. Ellsworth administered a resounding slap.
“That’s what you meant by an invisible badge, hey?” said Westy, suddenly; “a good turn kept secret.”