"And we put the fire out. For he really _was_ afire," said Chet, when he got his voice again. "And he was burned some-so he said. He declared one of the fellows had played a trick on him-set him afire, you know.

"So he got mad," continued Chet, "and went off by himself. But going through Laurel Street he burst into flames again, so to speak, and if it hadn't been that he was right near the fire station, I guess we'd have had a bigger conflagration at that end of the town than there was in Mr.

Sharp's office."

"But I don't understand!" cried Laura, puzzled.

"Neither did the fireman, who turned a chemical extinguisher on Pretty Sweet and messed him all up again. It was a serious matter to Pretty, I tell you. For this time the tails of his coat were burned off, as well as a portion of his nether garments. Why, he wasn't fit to be seen!"

roared Chet. "The firemen were for sending him home in a barrel; but Pretty wouldn't have it. He sent for a cab and paid a dollar to get home."

"But what made the fire? What did you boys do to him?" cried Jess.

"Nothing at all. We never touched him," declared Lance Darby. "But when we told Professor Dimp, on Monday, when he inquired about the absence of Sweet, he seemed to suspect what had caused the fire. And he laughed, too."

"Do tell us what it was?" cried Laura.

"Why, it must have been a piece of phosphorus he picked up and put in his pocket. Dimple says it is very active chemically, and when united with oxygen, even at an ordinary temperature, emits a faint glow as if it were gold. It got in its fine work on Pretty Sweet, however, and they say he's got a blister on him as big as your hat!" concluded Chet.

The girls could not fail to be amused at this ridiculous adventure of the school exquisite. No other boy of their acquaintance was so dudish or comic in dress and manner.

"You know what Bobby did to Purt at Hester Grimes's party last winter, don't you?" said Jess, recovering from her paroxysm of laughter.

"The first time he wore his tall hat, you mean?" demanded Chet.

"Yes."

"I know he had to have the hat blocked again after one wearing," said Lance. "But we fellows weren't in on that joke."

"And not many but Bobby knew about it. You see, that tall hat-think of a stovepipe hat on a boy of seventeen!-made Purt the tallest person at the party. Bobby is cute, now I tell you," Jess giggled. "She measured his height _with_ the hat on his head and then went out to the gate and hung a flour bag of sand between the tall gateposts. She hung it so as to clear everybody else's head, you see; and it was dark there by the gate.

"Out comes Purt, beauing Celia Prime home. The bag was on his side of the path and he got it good, now I tell you!"

"I know he got his new hat smashed," agreed Lance.

"Great scheme," chuckled Chet.

"But it was dangerous," said Laura. "That sandbag was heavy. If any taller person had been coming in, or going out, rapidly, a crack on the crown from that bag would have done him harm."

"All right, little Miss Fidget," growled her brother. "But you see, it didn't do any harm."

"Only to Pretty's hat," laughed Lance. "But the question is, did Bobby set the fire?"

"Of course not!" declared Jess, promptly.

"If she did, she's getting to be a regular little firebug," said Chet.

"Did you hear about what happened at her father's store Sat.u.r.day?"

"No," said Jess. "What was it? Not another fire?"

"Yes, another fire," returned Chet, and he went on to repeat the story of the burning-gla.s.s, and how Laura had beaten the fire department in putting the blaze out.

"My, Laura! that was a smart idea," declared Lance, with admiration.

"Isn't that the greatest ever?" added Jess.

"And Bobby had less to do with setting the fire in Mr. Sharp's office than she had with starting that one in the store," said Laura, thoughtfully.

"I hope so," Lance said.

"I know so! Bobby is strictly truthful."

"But she can't prove it," said Chet, argumentatively.

"She ought not to have to prove it," declared Laura, with heat. "Her say-so should be enough for Mr. Sharp. I've a mind to--"

"You've a mind to what?" asked Jess, pinching her arm.

"Never you mind," returned Laura, suddenly becoming uncommunicative.

"I've a scheme."

"One of Laura's brilliant ideas," scoffed Chet, with brotherly scorn.

"We'll hear about it later."

Which was true enough, for none of them heard about it that evening. But the very next morning Laura got to school early and went to Mr. Sharp's office. The princ.i.p.al chanced to be disengaged, and welcomed her kindly.

Besides, Mr. Sharp, like the other teachers, was fond of Laura Belding.

Without being a "toady"-that creature so hateful to the normal young person-Laura was very good friends with all the instructors.

"Mr. Sharp," said the girl, boldly, "one of my cla.s.smates is in trouble-serious trouble. You know whom I mean-Miss Hargrew."

Mr. Sharp nodded thoughtfully.

"I want you to be just as kind to her as you can, sir," went on Laura.

"She is a good girl, if she _is_ mischievous. She never would do such a wicked thing as to set that fire--"

"Not intentionally, I grant you, Miss Belding," he returned.

"No. Nor did she do it involuntarily. When she said she took the burning piece of punk out of the building, she _did_ so."

"How do you know?" he asked, quickly.

"I know it," said Laura, calmly, "because she tells me so. Bobby-I mean, Clara-could not tell a lie. It is not in her to be false or deceitful.

That-that is why she is not liked in some quarters."

"You mean, that is why she is doubted?" said the princ.i.p.al, gravely.

"Her careless course in school could not fail to gain her a bad character with the instructors."

"I presume that is so, sir," admitted Laura, slowly.

"It is so. You cannot blame the teachers if they are harsh with her. She has made herself a nuisance," said the princ.i.p.al, yet smiling.