As they swung out through the gate they met Mr. Heegan coming in, and he smiled at them from under his bushy brows.

“Did you get what you were after comin’ for?” he asked them.

“Yes.  And something we didn’t come for,” answered Billie, while the color flooded her face and she felt like a criminal.  She smiled a wry little smile and displayed the newspaper package.

“Meanin’—­” Mr. Heegan began, puzzled.

“I—­I broke a statue that was on the bookcase,” explained Billie.  “We were skylarking—­”

“And many’s the time I’ve done the same in my day,” said Mr. Heegan, with a nod, looking not nearly as shocked as the girls thought he would.  “And sure, what are you made young for, if it wasn’t that you was meant to be skylarkin’ all the time?”

The girls looked at each other.  This strange sentiment had never occurred to them before, but they found it very comforting, nevertheless.

“But—­but,” stammered Billie, “this statue cost a hundred dollars.  And it was given to Miss Beggs by a rich uncle.”

“Well, all I have to say is, that any one who would spend a hundred dollars on a statue,” said Mr. Heegan, “deserves to have it broken on him.”

And having delivered himself of this surprising comment, the janitor saluted and ambled off into the school yard, leaving the girls to look after him with laughing eyes.

“You know I just love Irishmen,” remarked Billie with emphasis, as they started on their way once more.

In thoughtful silence, they walked the remaining three blocks to the boarding house where Miss Beggs lived.

“This is it,” said Billie, as she came to a stop before a three-story brick building that had all the respectable and uncomfortable appearance of a typical boarding house.

“Just like Miss Beggs,” Billie was conscious of thinking.

“Well, let’s go up,” urged Laura, as Billie showed no inclination to move.  “We might as well get the agony over with.”

“All right, come on,” cried Billie, running ahead of them and taking two steps at a time.  “As Dad says:  ’A coward dies a thousand deaths, the brave man only one.’”

The end of this quotation brought them to the porch, and Billie looked for the bell.

“Now then,” she said, and braced herself for the ordeal.

A stout, middle-aged person, without any of the outward characteristics that are so often bestowed upon landladies in general, opened the door and looked at them inquiringly.

“Is there some one you wish to see?” she asked them.

“Yes,” replied Billie in a weak little voice.  “I would like to see Miss—­Miss Beggs if she is at home.”

“She isn’t,” said the middle-aged person.  “She went away for the summer two days ago.”

“Did she leave any address?” Billie managed to ask.

“No, she didn’t; but I guess I could find out from one of the other ladies who is a friend of hers,” the woman volunteered obligingly.  “That is, if it’s very particular,” she added.