ey had been half way home--all
the other children had gone. The janitor was sweeping out the lower
hall and grinned cheerfully at them without stopping his work. Then
they passed on to their own room.

"Doesn't it seem funny without anybody here?" asked Meg, beginning
to take the books out of her desk.

"Suppose I was the teacher!" Bobby seated himself in Miss Mason's
chair and rapped on the desk with her ruler. "First grade, go to the
board!"

"Oh, don't," giggled Meg, half frightened. "She might come in and
catch you. Bobby, stop it!"

Bobby jumped from the chair and scrambled off the platform as the door
opened.

"Hello!" said a cheerful, chirping voice, and Dot and Twaddles marched
into the room.

"We thought we'd come after you," announced Dot serenely. "Mother said
it was time for you to be coming. But we didn't meet you."

"I had to come back and get my books for Mother to cover," explained
Meg. "Don't touch anything, Twaddles. You can carry my reading book.
Come on, Bobby, don't let's stay."

But the twins had no intention of leaving that minute.

"Isn't it nice in school?" beamed Twaddles, eyeing the bowl of
goldfish on the window sill with interest. "Oh, Bobby, won't you
draw us a picture?"

Twaddles had spied the chalk and the blackboard.

"All right, just one," promised Bobby. "What'll I draw?"

"Old Hornbeck," snickered Twaddles, who had never seen the head of the
school committee, but who never missed a word of anything the older
children brought home.

Meg and Dot and Twaddles watched with absorbing interest as Bobby took
up a piece of chalk and began to draw.

"These are his whiskers," explained Bobby, making a lot of curly
marks. "Here's his chin. This is his coat collar. And now I'll make
his high silk hat."

Bobby had to stand on his tiptoes to draw this, and the chalk
screeched piercingly as he bore on it heavily. But the high hat really
did look like the one Mr. Hornbeck wore.

"Now some funny little legs, and he's done," announced Bobby, drawing
two wavering lines that had to serve the figure for legs.

"Come on now," urged Meg. "Mother will be looking for us. Rub it out,
Bobby. Suppose Miss Mason found it in the morning?"

"The janitor cleans the boards every night," replied Bobby indifferently.

"Rub it out," insisted Meg. "It would be mean if some one found it and
blamed you."

The spirit of mischief seized Bobby. He picked up the eraser as if to
do what Meg asked, th