Part 2 (2/2)
”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 sh.o.r.e 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 d.i.c.k'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 princ.i.p.al 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 b.u.t.t 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!” e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Laura. ”That is too much to believe.”
”Fact. He'd gone home for his nightclothes. I got it from our hired girl and she got it from Mrs. Sharp's maid. So, there you have it!”
”But you didn't tell us what the old Prof was saying to you about camping,” reminded Chet, when the general laugh was over.
”Why! that's so. And it was odd, too, that he should take any interest in what we fellows were going to do this summer.”
”What about it?” Jess asked.
”He wanted to know if we were going to pitch our camp, too, on Acorn Island? He seemed to know you girls were going there.”
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