ion of doing it, but he found it lying
on the table. Of course I felt like a fool."

"Oh," said Tom after a moment. "That--that was funny. I didn't see you
bring it in with you." There was a note of constraint in his voice that
did not escape Steve.

"I don't remember bringing it in," he replied. "I saw it on the table
down there and--and looked at it, had it in my hand, but I don't
remember bringing it up."

"Funny," said Tom lightly. "Did--did he say anything?"

"Oh, no. Of course I denied it at first, said I couldn't have taken it,
but he said I must have, unless--unless you had. He asked if you were in
his room and I said no."

"But I was!" exclaimed Tom. "Don't you remember? I went down just before
we went out. But there wasn't any blue-book on his table then. At least,
I didn't see any."

"Well, it doesn't matter. I told him you hadn't been there. I--I'd let
him think so, anyway. There's no use having any more bother about the
old thing."

"Well, but--you're sure he wasn't waxy? Of course I didn't take the
book; you can prove that I didn't have it when I came back; but if he's
acting ugly about it, why--I'll tell him I was in there too. He can lay
it on me if he wants to. I--I think I'll tell him, Steve."

"You keep out of it," answered Steve roughly. "What's the use of having
any more talk about it? He's got the book and there's no harm done."

Tom considered a moment. Then, "You're certain?" he asked.

"Certain of what?"

"That--that it's all right, that he doesn't blame you for it."

"Oh, he knows I did it, but he doesn't mind. What time is it?"

"A quarter past ten. What are you doing?"

Steve was ripping his bed to pieces. "I want a couple of blankets," he
said. "Haven't we some thumb-tacks somewhere?"

"Table drawer," replied Tom. "What's the game?"

"I'm going to do that rotten composition." Steve climbed to a chair, and
with the aid of push-pins draped one of the blankets over the door and
transom. Then he pulled the window-shade close and hung the second
blanket inside the casement. "There! Now if anyone sees a light in this
room they'll have to have mighty good eyes. You tumble into bed, Tom,
and try to imagine it's dark."

"Bed? Who wants to go to bed?" asked Tom, smothering a yawn. "I'm going
to help you with it."

"No, you're not," replied Steve doggedly. "I'm going to do it and I'm
going to do it all myself if it takes me until daylight. Now shut up."

CHAPTER XVIII

B