Nothing illuminating came to him. A suspicion instead filled him with indignation: Who could write such a paragraph unless he knew something to warrant it? Whoever knew that was the one who had tampered with the drawer, the lock.
Hardly able to concentrate his mind, Billy wrote out his report of the scout for filing, brushed and cleaned the flag as well as he could, and tried to settle down to study; but the lessons dragged. The words meant nothing; his mind was held by the disquieting slip, that had neither signature, nor slightest mark to show who wrote it or who printed it. That was evidence of evil intent; and if the school authorities could find out its source, they would expel the student responsible for it.
He went to the dining-room, impatient for breakfast, and while waiting his sister Edith came down with the baby. “Good-morning Billy. Baby is glad you’re at home again.”
Billy touched the pink cheek, and put his finger in the tiny hand that closed softly around it. He thought his sister very lovely in her sweet dignity of motherhood.
“William Bennett! Your grandfather made your name worth while, my baby, and now Uncle Billy is adding honor to it.” She caressed the soft cheek.
“Don’t count on me; I may not add lustre even if I do the best I can.” The future loomed rather dark to him just then.
“Billy, that is all any one can do,” his mother said, coming in with Mr. Wright at the moment.
Breakfast followed, and while they ate, Billy recounted the happenings of the scout.
He went early to school, and barely greeting the first comers, hastened to the library. The drawer was locked, and no trace of meddling appeared.
Puzzled and worried he went to the west entrance to wait for Erminie. Instead of seeing her he was surrounded by friends with voluble congratulations; for the morning paper, in large type and pictures, featured the adventure of little Signa and the part the Scouts had played in her rescue.