A dismal silence ensued, a silence broken at intervals by a nervous
cough or the embarrassed shuffling of feet. Mr. Moller calmly divided
his attention between the class and the watch. Surely never had one
hundred and twenty seconds ticked themselves away so slowly. There was a
noticeable disinclination on the part of the students to meet the gaze
of the instructor, nor did they seem any more eager to view the various
and generally painful emotions expressed on the countenances of the
nine. At last Mr. Moller took up his watch and returned it with its
dangling fob to his pocket, and as he did so some thirty sighs of relief
sounded in the stillness.

"Time's up," announced the instructor. "Be seated, young gentlemen.
Thank you very much." The nine sank gratefully into their chairs. "I am
sure that we have all enjoyed your joke vastly. You must pardon me if,
just at first, I seemed to miss the humour of it. I can assure you that
I am now quite--quite _sympathique_. We are told that imitation is the
sincerest flattery, and I accept the compliment in the spirit in which
you have tendered it. Again I thank you."

Mr. Moller bowed gravely and sat down.

Glances, furtive and incredulous, passed from boy to boy. Amy heaved a
sigh of relief. After all, then, Mr. Moller could take a joke! And for
the first time since the inception of the brilliant idea Amy felt an
emotion very much like regret! And then the recitation began.

That would have ended the episode had not Chance taken a hand in
affairs. Mr. Fernald very seldom visited a class room during
recitations. One could count such occurrences on one hand and the result
would have sufficed for the school year. And yet today, for some reason
never apparent to the boys, Mr. Fernald happened in.

Harry Westcott was holding forth when the principal's tread caught his
attention. Westcott turned his head, saw and instantly stopped.

"Proceed, Westcott," said Mr. Fernald.

Westcott continued, stammeringly and much at random. Mr. Fernald quietly
walked up the aisle to the platform. Mr. Moller arose and for a moment
the two spoke in low tones. Then the principal nodded, smiled and turned
to retrace his steps. As he did so his smiling regard fell upon the
occupants of the two front rows. A look of puzzlement banished the
smile. Bewilderment followed that. Westcott faltered and stopped
altogether. A horrible silence ensued. Then Mr. Fernald turned an
inquiring look upon the inst