Gerald motioned to the further bed. “Slide under there,” he said quietly. [The boy] flew around the table, [dropped to the floor and squirmed quickly from sight]. Gerald stepped to the door to close it, but the pursuit was already at the bottom of the stairs, laughing and calling. Gerald left the door ajar, scurried back to his chair and, thrusting his hands into his pockets, leaned carelessly back.
[“The boy dropped to the floor and squirmed quickly from sight.”]
“Yes, when it came to doing it, Burtis, I just couldn’t give up the old place. You get terribly fond of a room after——”
There was a hurried knock and the door was pushed open, revealing a half-dozen laughing faces beyond.
“Hello, Pennimore! Is he in here?” The spokesman was a big fellow named Johnson, a Second Class boy, who roomed on the floor above.
“Hello,” returned Gerald with a display of mild curiosity. “Is who here?”
“The Rabbit! Cotton-Tail! Didn’t he slide in here?” Johnson looked suspiciously around.
“Of course he did,” cried another of the crowd. “He didn’t go downstairs and this is the only door that’s open! Where is he, Pennimore? We’ve got to have him! We need him in our business!”