“Yes,” was the reply. “I’ll leave this one goin’ and the one around the corner.” The janitor, a sturdy young Irishman, came to the door and peered out. “Who’s that with you, Mr. Brent?” he asked.
“Gordon Merrick. My sister and Miss Sawin are coming in a few minutes. I guess it will take all of us to move the desk in, eh?”
“A couple of us can manage it, sir. I’ve got my broom and dustpan here to clear up afterwards. There’s some one coming now, ain’t there?”
“Those are the girls,” said Gordon. “What time is it?”
“Nearly half-past,” answered Morris, holding the face of his watch to the dim light from the hall. “He may be a few minutes late, I suppose.”
“I think I hear a wagon now,” said Gordon, as the girls joined them. But it proved to be a milkman’s cart when it came into sight.
“Did you get it?” asked Morris.
“Yes.” In proof, Louise held up the key. “I feel just like a conspirator,” she added, “don’t you? Have they all gone?”
“Yes, and it’s a good thing we didn’t tell that we were going to put the things in here to-night. If we had we’d have had half the school messing around.”