an along the avenue, and soon neared the bend of the road where,
between trees and shrubbery, he could see a bit of the cottage.

"I'll be the only one that's late," he thought, when at that moment he
noticed some one farther along the avenue.

It was Arabella Corryville, but what was she doing?

He drew back, and stood behind a bush which overhung the sidewalk and
partly hid him.

Arabella was looking over the low wall,--ah, now she was reaching down
as if trying to get something that was hard to reach, or was she
dropping something over?

[Illustration: She was reaching down as if to get something.]

Reginald could not guess which she was doing, and he knew that if he
asked her, she would not tell him.

Now Arabella was running; Reginald ran, too. He knew that he must be
quite late, for none of the other pupils were in sight.

He was a swift runner, and he entered the door just as Arabella was
about to close it.

"You're late, too," she whispered.

The little pupils were singing, and the two went softly to their seats.

After the singing, Aunt Charlotte questioned Reginald.

"I started early, but I forgot my books, and going back for them made me
late. I ran 'most all the way; I meant to be here early."

"Being late for such a reason as that is excusable," said Aunt
Charlotte.

"You, also, were late, Arabella."

"I had to help my Aunt Matilda," said Arabella, as glibly as if it had
been true.

"Oh, oo! That's a fib!" whispered Reginald, but Arabella did not hear
him.

Aunt Charlotte said nothing, but she thought it strange that Arabella's
aunt should have detained her. Surely the maid could have given all
necessary assistance, rather than force the little daughter of the house
to be late at school.

Reginald had longed to peep over that wall, but he dared not linger.
What had Arabella been doing? He determined to wait until he had a fine
chance, and then he would look over that wall. He believed that she had
hidden something there. He would not tell the other girls, for they
might tell Arabella.

At recess time he asked Aunt Charlotte if she had found his ball.

No, the ball was not in the room.

"I think you must have been mistaken," she said, "the ball must be at
your home."

"Truly I had it here," the boy insisted, "I left it on my desk."

"It must have gone to find my red book which had our dialogue in it, for
that has disappeared, and hunt as I will, I cannot find it. You have
your