."

"But our talk is private, Dickey, and not intended for little boys'
ears. You know the saying about little pitchers, Dickey?"

"Well, I'm not going out, so you can talk or not as you like."

"Oh, yes, you are going out, Dickey. Politeness requires it, and I shall
see that you maintain that delightful courteousness for which you are
noted. Now, Dickey!" West indicated the door with a nod and a smile.
Sproule bent his head over his book and growled a response that sounded
anything but polite. Then West, still smiling, seized the unobliging
youth by the shoulders, pinioning his arms to his sides, and pushed him
away from the table and toward the door. Joel rescued the lamp at a
critical moment, the chairs went over on to the floor, and a minute
later Sproule was on the farther side of the bolted door, and West was
adjusting his rumpled attire.

"I'll report you for this, Outfield West!" howled Sproule through the
door, in a passion of resentment.

"Report away," answered West mockingly.

"And if I miss my Latin I'll tell why, too!"

"Well, you'll miss it all right enough, unless you've changed mightily.
But, here, I'll shy your book through the transom."

This was done, and the sound of ascending feet on the stairway reaching
Sproule's ears at that moment, he grabbed his book and took himself off,
muttering vengeance.

"Have you looked?" asked West.

"Yes; it's not there. But there are no others missing. Who could have
taken it?"

"Any one, my boy; Bartlett Cloud, for preference. Your door is
unlocked, he comes in when he knows you are out, looks on the table,
sees nothing there that will serve, goes to the bureau, opens the top
drawer, and finds a pile of letters. He takes the first one, which is,
of course, the last received, and sneaks out. Then he climbs into the
bell tower at night, cuts the rope through all but one small strand, and
puts your letter on the floor where it will be found in the morning.
Isn't that plain enough?" Joel nodded forlornly. "But cheer up, Joel.
Your Uncle Out will see your innocence established, firmly and beyond
all question. And now come on. It's one o'clock, and you've got to go
back to the office, while I've got a class. Come over to my room at
four, Joel, and tell me what happens."

Remsen and the secretary were no longer in the office when Joel
returned. Professor Durkee was standing with his hat in his hand,
apparently about to leave.

"March," began the principal,