“Fu-fu-fun!” yelled Tom. “I wish you had it!”
“Had what?”
“Wha-wha-whatever it is, you bu-bu-bu-blamed idiot!” answered Tom wrathfully. Then, with a sudden shriek, he leaped a foot into the air, grabbed his pajamas above his left knee, and danced nimbly about the floor, at last becoming entangled in the blankets and tumbling headlong at the feet of Mr. Verder, who came hurrying up. Every fellow was on hand by that time, and Tom was pulled sputtering to his feet. Mr. Verder took the nearest lantern and investigated. The cause of Tom’s unhappiness wasn’t far to seek. Over the bed and blankets swarmed a veritable army of big black ants!
“Ants!” said Mr. Verder, laughing. “What are you doing, Ferris, studying entomology?”
“Probably antomology,” hazarded Nelson.
“Ants?” exclaimed Tom, still rubbing himself busily. “Ants! Gee, I thought they were bu-bu-bu-bees at least! They haven’t done a th-th-th-thing tu-tu-tu-to me, sir!”
“Well, I’m sorry, Ferris,” said the councilor. “The Doctor will get you something to put on the bites. But what are they doing on your bed?”
“I gu-gu-guess it’s the cu-cu-cu-candy, sir,” said Tom sheepishly.
“Candy? What candy?”
For answer Tom raised the mattress, revealing a box about which the ants were crawling excitedly to and fro.