"My, I was mad! She doesn't believe a word I say. I wish I had spoiled her old book!"

"Hasn't it been the meanest day!" sighed Meg. "I hate school!"

Mother Blossom folded the note she had been reading.

"Dot and Twaddles, Sam is just backing out the car to go after Daddy,"

she said to the twins. "Run along, and you may go with him."

The twins scampered off, and then she turned to Meg and Bobby.

"Miss Mason evidently thinks you destroyed the book, Bobby," sighed Mother Blossom, "but as it can not be positively proved, you are to go to school as usual. I am sorrier than words can tell you that this has happened. But, dearie, I'm afraid you are a bit to blame."

"Me?" cried the astonished Bobby. "Why, Mother!"

"Well, think how you acted over the arithmetic lesson," Mother Blossom reminded him. "You know Daddy and I have talked to you about this before, Bobby. You are not a very good loser, and the boy who can't lose and keep his temper will never be a good sportsman. Suppose Daddy got mad and 'talked back' whenever things didn't go to suit him at the foundry!"

Mother Blossom put an arm around Bobby and drew him closer to her.

"And if you had spoken to Daddy or to me as you did to Miss Mason,"

she went on, smoothing back his hair, "I think you know what you would be asked to do--what you would want to do, in fact. Don't you?"

"'Pologize," muttered Bobby shamefacedly.

"Yes," said Mother Blossom. "And I want you to apologize to Miss Mason for being discourteous. Never mind if she does think you spoiled the book. As long as you know and we know you didn't, that really doesn't matter very much; and you'll feel so much better if you do what is right. The boy who did ruin the book will be found out some day. Such things always come to light."

CHAPTER X

SENT TO THE OFFICE

The next morning Bobby trudged off to school with Meg feeling, for the first time in his life, that he would rather do anything except go to school.

"You stay out and play," he directed Meg when they reached the yard.

"I'll go up and see Miss Mason."

He found the teacher at her desk. She looked neat and cool and self-possessed, and Bobby did not have any of those qualities at that moment.

"I'm sorry--I acted like that--yesterday at 'rithmetic," faltered Bobby jerkily. "My mother says I musn't be a poor loser."

"All right, Robert, we'll overlook that," rejoined Miss Mason graciously. "I could see you were piqued because you failed. But is that all you have to tell me?"

Bobby stared at her.

"Have you nothing to say about the book?" urged Miss Mason.

"I didn't do it," insisted Bobby. "You don't think I would lie, do you--not really?" he asked, amazed.

"I don't know what to think," sighed Miss Mason. "I am heartily sorry I ever brought the book to school. And, Robert, I thought it my duty to speak to Mr. Carter about this. You are to go to the office direct from a.s.sembly without coming back here."

Poor Bobby came as near to fainting as a boy ever does. Mr. Carter! He shared all the awe and fear of the other boys for the princ.i.p.al of whom little was known, he spending most of his time at the grammar school. Evidently Miss Mason must think him very bad indeed if she had sent for Mr. Carter.

All through a.s.sembly Bobby's thoughts were on the coming interview, and though he usually loved to sing the opening song, this morning he did not sing a note. He looked so solemn and serious that Tim Roon, watching him, decided his father must have whipped him.

The exercises were over too soon for Bobby, who would have had them last the rest of the day if he had been consulted, and the long lines of marching children went back to their cla.s.srooms.

"I wonder where Bobby is," thought Meg uneasily, when Miss Mason's cla.s.ses had rustled into place and Bobby's seat was still vacant.

Bobby, if she had known it, was at that moment making his reluctant way to the office. Just the mere letters printed on the door were enough to make his heart sink down into his shoes, and, as he told his mother afterward, he wished he could "die on the little mat you're supposed to wipe your feet on."

He wiped his feet carefully, took a last desperate look up and down the empty hall, and tapped on the door.

"Come in," called a deep, pleasant voice, not at all the kind of voice you would expect a stern, cross princ.i.p.al to use.

Bobby opened the door and went in. Mr. Carter was writing at Miss Wright's desk and there was no one else in the room. Bobby knew the princ.i.p.al by sight, for he had seen him once or twice in the corridors. It seemed that Mr. Carter also knew the pupils.

"Well, Bobby," he said cheerfully. "You are Bobby Blossom, aren't you?"

Bobby nodded miserably. He was thankful for the "Bobby," for he detested the unfamiliar "Robert" Miss Mason invariably used.

Mr. Carter took off his gla.s.ses and laid them on the desk. He turned his chair slightly to face another chair drawn up at the side.

"Come sit down, Bobby, and don't be afraid," he said quietly. "I want you to tell me what happened in cla.s.s yesterday, and why Miss Mason should think that you defaced her book."

Bobby slid timidly into the chair and began to answer Mr. Carter's quick questions. And then a strange thing happened. Bobby forgot to be afraid. As he told about the arithmetic lesson, where he had been a "poor loser," and about the beautiful book that had been destroyed, and explained why he went back to the room at recess time, he forgot that he was speaking to the princ.i.p.al. He stood up straight beside the desk and talked to Mr. Carter as he would to Daddy Blossom. And the princ.i.p.al's kind, earnest eyes, his ready smile, and deep, pleasant voice, all told Bobby that he was speaking to a friend.

"And I didn't touch the book, honest I didn't," finished Bobby.

Mr. Carter put a big, firm hand over the little one resting on his desk top.

"All right, I believe you," he said earnestly. "Some day we'll find the boy who did it, never fear."

"But Miss Mason thinks--she thinks I did it," protested Bobby.

"I'll see Miss Mason," promised Mr. Carter briefly. "The thing for you to do is to forget this and go on as though nothing had happened.

You'll find Miss Mason fair-minded and ready to own a mistake has been made when once she is convinced. As long as you know you didn't do it you have absolutely nothing to worry about."

The princ.i.p.al put on his gla.s.ses and stood up.

"Next time you come to see me, let's hope we have something pleasanter to discuss," he said smilingly, holding out his hand to Bobby. "By the way, didn't I see a little sister of yours yesterday and two other young people rather anxious to go to school?"

"That was Meg," Bobby informed him. "She had to take the twins home.

They're crazy to come to school." Then he backed out of the room.

"He was just as nice!" Bobby kept saying over and over to himself on his way upstairs. "Just as nice! And he doesn't b'lieve I hurt the book."

Tim Roon glanced at Bobby curiously as he came quietly into the room and took his seat. The cla.s.s was having a reading lesson, and Tim could keep his book open and pretend to be very busy while he did several other things. He had not known that Miss Mason would make such a "fuss," as Tim called it, over the book, and he was mean enough to be glad that Bobby was getting all the punishment. Tim had a wholesome fear of Mr. Carter, having met the princ.i.p.al on several occasions when his bent for mischief had brought Miss Mason's wrath down on him. He wondered what Mr. Carter had said to Bobby.