of Bobby's father to let us camp there."

"Pull--sheer pull," grumbled Lance. "We fellows tried our best to get
permission to camp on the Island."

"Well," said Jess, demurely. "You can come to the island visiting. It
will be perfectly proper. My mother says she will go to chaperon us,
now that she knows there is a cabin there."

"And Bobby's father is going to send a couple of men up from
Lumberport to make the cabin tight and fix things up a little for us.
We'll pitch our tents on the knoll right by the cabin," Laura said,
eagerly.

"Pretty spot," agreed Chet. "We'll probably have our camp in sight of
it and the lake between the south shore and the island is only about
two miles broad."

"Oh! we'll have a bully time," his chum agreed.

"Say!" Chet said, suddenly, addressing Lance Darby. "What was
professor Dimp saying to you about camping? I heard a word or two.
Something about going to the island?"

"Why! I forgot to tell you about that," returned Lance, quickly,
while the two girls cast enquiring glances at each other. "Old Dimple
is certainly an odd stick."

"As odd as Dick's hat-band," agreed Chet.

"And no-end forgetful. He's been worse than ever lately. There
certainly is something worrying him."

"You boys," laughed Jess.

"Something worse than boys," Lance returned. "It's a shame how
forgetful he is. Say! did you hear what he did at Mr. Sharp's the
other night?"

"No," said the others, in chorus.

Lance began to chuckle. Mr. Franklin Sharp was the principal of
Central High, and was very much admired by all the pupils; while
Professor Dimp, because of his harshness and his queer ways, was the
butt of more than a few jokes.

"It was night before last when it rained so hard," resumed Lance. "He
was there going over Latin exercises or something, with the Doctor.
Mrs. Sharp asked him to stay all night, when it came on so hard to
rain, and the old Prof thanked her and said he would.

"Mr. Sharp went into his office to do something or other and left Old
Dimple in the library for a while. The family lost track of him then.
Right in the middle of the hardest downpour, about eleven o'clock,
the front door bell rang, and Mr. Sharp went to the door.

"There was Old Dimple, under a dripping umbrella, his pants wet to the
knees, and his pajamas and toothbrush under his arm----"

"Oh, Lance!" ejaculated Laura. "That is too much to believe."

"Fact. He'd gone home for his nightclothes. I got it from ou