the wrong answer to the example he was
sent to work out at the board; at recess he was so cross to Palmer
Davis that that devoted friend slapped him and they had a tussle that
ended in both being forced to spend the remainder of the play time
sitting quietly at two front desks under Miss Mason's eye. Altogether
Bobby seemed to be in for a bad day.

"Everybody's so mean," he scolded, going off in a corner by himself to
eat his lunch at noon. "I never saw such a lot of horrid folks."

To add to his unhappiness, Norah had forgotten that he didn't like tuna
fish sandwiches and had given him all that kind. Bobby knew that very
likely she had packed egg or some other good mixture in Meg's box and
that by merely asking he could trade with his sister. But no, it
suited him to feel that Norah had deliberately spoiled his lunch for
him.

"Robert, you haven't been out of the room this morning," cried Miss
Mason, swooping down on him. "Go out and get some fresh air and see if
you can't be pleasanter this afternoon. What you need is to play in
the snow."

Bobby dashed downstairs and out into the yard, wishing violently that
he could punch some one. He even rolled several snowballs in the hope
that some of his friends would come along and offer themselves as
targets. Then a mischievous idea popped into his mind.

"I'll fill up Miss Mason's desk," he chuckled. "She needs to play in
the snow, too."

This very bad boy proceeded to fill his arms with snowballs and stole
up the back stairway, where he would be less likely to meet any one,
into his classroom. The room was empty, and Bobby arranged his
snowballs neatly in Miss Mason's desk, which happened to be an
old-fashioned affair with a hinged lid.

"She can play with it," murmured Bobby, closing the lid softly and
running downstairs again so that he might come in with the others when
the bell rang.

It had stopped snowing, and the sun was shining warm and bright,
dazzling to the eyes. Bobby felt better already, for some mysterious
reason, and he plunged into a hilarious game of tag that lasted until
the signal rang.

When he went into his classroom he glanced quickly at Miss Mason's
desk. It looked as usual, and when the reading lesson was given out,
he quickly forgot the hidden snowballs. Palmer Davis was standing up
to read a paragraph when the class first heard something.

"Drip! drip! drip!" went a soft little tapping noise.

Miss Mason heard it, too.