Miss Mason glanced at him oddly.

“That will do,” she said.

Then she proceeded to question the other boys. Palmer Davis admitted that he had been in the room during recess, to get a pencil, he said. And Henry Graham, a boy in the first grade, whispered shakily that he had come back for an apple he had left in his desk. Miss Mason was cross-examining Wilbert Peters, another boy, when the door was suddenly pushed open and an odd procession entered.

“Well, for pity’s sake!” ejaculated Meg aloud, then slapped a hasty hand to her mouth.

Philip, his tail wagging ingratiatingly, came first, carrying Totty-Fay in his mouth. Back of him marched the twins, Twaddles’ face shining with soap and water he had evidently applied himself, for it had dried in streaks, and Dot in a frock so stiffly starched that each separate ruffle stood out around her like a small platform.

“Hello!” grinned Twaddles, embarrassed now that he found so many eyes fixed on him.

Miss Mason looked surprised.

Philip marched up to the platform and put down the doll. Then he sat down, panting, his tail wagging furiously.

“We we want to go to school, too,” explained Dot, speaking to Miss Mason, “so we came.”

“I see,” admitted the teacher. “You’re not old enough to come to school yet. Whose children are you?”

“Please, Miss Mason,” Meg stood up bravely, “they’re my brother and sister, Twaddles and Dot.”

“Dorothy, I suppose,” amended Miss Mason, who could never bear to use a nickname, no matter how pretty. “But where on earth did a child get the name of Twaddles?”

“His right name is Arthur Gifford Blossom,” explained Meg timidly.

The twins were sitting down comfortably on the edge of the platform and studying the room with interest.

“Well, Margaret, I think you will have to take them home,” said Miss Mason, not unkindly. “It lacks only fifteen minutes of dismissal time, anyway. I shall let the girls go at half-past three, but the boys will have to remain till we get this matter of the defaced book straightened out. Go and get your hat and coat, Margaret.”

Meg went to the cloak room for her hat and coat and came back to find Miss Mason saying good-by to the twins.

“And when you are six years old we’ll be very glad to have you come to school,” she told them. “Don’t forget the doll all right, now you’re ready.”

She held open the door for Philip, and even patted him on the head as he trotted through. The irrepressible twins, who had enjoyed their visit and were sorry to have it over so soon, turned as they were following Meg out of the room.

“Good-by, Bobby,” they chorused.

Poor Bobby blushed violently, and the other children laughed.

“You shouldn’t talk like that,” Meg reproved them as she piloted them down the hall. “You can’t holler out loud in school.”

“Isn’t it nice?” said Dot admiringly. “Oh, Meg, what’s this room?”

She had darted to the open door of the assembly hall and was peering in at the rows and rows of empty seats.

“Come on,” urged Meg. “Don’t snoop around like that, Dot. I’ll bet Bobby is mad ’cause you made everybody laugh at him.”

“’Twon’t hurt him,” declared Twaddles impishly. “Who’s that man in there, Meg?”

Meg glanced hurriedly into the office they were passing. The door was partly closed, but she could see a man speaking to Miss Wright.

“That’s the principal, Mr. Carter,” whispered Meg, her teeth almost chattering with fright. “I hope Miss Mason doesn’t tell him about her book.”

Miss Wright had heard the whispering and came to the door.

“Why, Meg,” she said pleasantly, “aren’t you going home early? And are these new scholars?”

“It’s the twins,” stammered Meg desperately. “They would come, and Miss Mason says I must take them home.”

Mr. Carter, who had come up behind Miss Wright, laughed. He had clear, kind eyes behind his glasses, and he was much younger than Meg had supposed him to be. The other children had talked to her so much of how terrible the principal was when he had a bad boy before him that she had really pictured an ogre, with gray hair and a terrible hooked nose and a loud, fierce voice.

“I’ve heard of children having to be driven to school,” said Mr. Carter, still smiling, “but this is the first time I ever knew that they had to be taken home to prevent them from learning. Never mind, youngsters, your school days are coming. And when you do come to Oak Hill School, you come and see me the very first day.”

The twins were too shy to do more than nod, and Meg hurried them out of the building, Philip having already pushed the door open and gone, before they should attract any more attention.

“What ever put it into your head to come?” she scolded, leading the way toward home. “Does Mother know it?”

For the first time Twaddles appeared to be somewhat confused.

“She doesn’t know it exactly,” he admitted. “We just said we were going out.”

And indeed Mother Blossom was very much surprised when Meg walked into the sitting room followed by the twins.

“Where is Bobby?” asked Mother Blossom, looking up from her sewing. “And you are early, dear. Is anything wrong?”

“Nothing much,” said Meg, with a severe glance at the culprits, “’cept the children came to school and brought the dog and Totty-Fay, and Bobby has to stay in because Miss Mason says he spilt ink all over her book.”

Of course there was an exciting half-hour after that, with the twins trying to show their side of the case and Mother Blossom half laughing and half scolding over their performance. Meg had also to tell everything that had happened in connection with the book, and Mother Blossom and the twins were all sure that Bobby had had absolutely nothing to do with it.

“Course he didn’t!” said Meg vehemently. “I know he was mad about missing the arithmetic lesson, but he wouldn’t go and spatter ink on a book. And it was such a lovely book, Mother.”

They were still talking when Bobby came in, looking hot and tired and very cross.

“How long did she keep you in?” asked Meg, as he flung his cap into the corner.

“An hour,” returned Bobby. “She let all the boys go but six of us at four o’clock, and she says one of us six must have done it. And they all say it’s me. But I didn’t do it.”

He was looking at Mother Blossom, and she smiled back at him, her own, sunny, cheerful smile.

“We know you didn’t, dear,” she declared proudly.

“She sent you a note, Mother,” said Bobby, fishing around in his pocket and bringing out a crumpled, rather soiled little envelope. “My, I was mad! She doesn’t believe a word I say. I wish I had spoiled her old book!”

“Hasn’t it been the meanest day!” sighed Meg. “I hate school!”

Mother Blossom folded the note she had been reading.

“Dot and Twaddles, Sam is just backing out the car to go after Daddy,” she said to the twins. “Run along, and you may go with him.”

The twins scampered off, and then she turned to Meg and Bobby.

“Miss Mason evidently thinks you destroyed the book, Bobby,” sighed Mother Blossom, “but as it can not be positively proved, you are to go to school as usual. I am sorrier than words can tell you that this has happened. But, dearie, I’m afraid you are a bit to blame.”

“Me?” cried the astonished Bobby. “Why, Mother!”

“Well, think how you acted over the arithmetic lesson,” Mother Blossom reminded him. “You know Daddy and I have talked to you about this before, Bobby. You are not a very good loser, and the boy who can’t lose and keep his temper will never be a good sportsman. Suppose Daddy got mad and ‘talked back’ whenever things didn’t go to suit him at the foundry!”

Mother Blossom put an arm around Bobby and drew him closer to her.

“And if you had spoken to Daddy or to me as you did to Miss Mason,” she went on, smoothing back his hair, “I think you know what you would be asked to do what you would want to do, in fact. Don’t you?”

“’Pologize,” muttered Bobby shamefacedly.

“Yes,” said Mother Blossom. “And I want you to apologize to Miss Mason for being discourteous. Never mind if she does think you spoiled the book. As long as you know and we know you didn’t, that really doesn’t matter very much; and you’ll feel so much better if you do what is right. The boy who did ruin the book will be found out some day. Such things always come to light.”