“How do you do, Robert and Thomas?” said Miss Prettyman austerely.  “Did Mrs. Eustice know you had callers?” she persisted, turning to the girls.  “She took the last bus to Edentown.”

“Yes, she knew.  It is all right.  Caroline said so,” babbled Betty, in frantic terror lest the boys make the mistake of telling Miss Prettyman about the proposed visit.

“What was it you wanted to ask Mrs. Eustice, young man?” the teacher demanded next.  “I am her secretary and try to save her work whenever possible.  Perhaps I can answer your question.”

Behind Miss Prettyman’s narrow back Betty signaled wildly.

“Don’t tell—­hush!” she wig-wagged, laying her finger against her lips.

Tommy stared at her idiotically, his mouth gaping.

“Thank you, but only Mrs. Eustice could really give us an answer,” said Bob, coming to the rescue of his stricken chum.  “Betty, will you deliver our message and perhaps you can telephone the answer?”

“No Shadyside girl is allowed to telephone Salsette Academy,” announced Miss Prettyman, with grim satisfaction.

Betty had not known of this rule, but she realized it was undoubtedly in existence.

“We’ll let you know some way,” she promised.

Still pursued by Miss Prettyman’s icy glare, the wretched boys backed out of the room and the unfortunate Tommy walked into a handsome china jardiniere with disastrous results.  There was a sickening crash, a ladylike scream from Miss Prettyman, and Betty heard Bob’s voice in a tone of suppressed fury:  “You’ve done it now, you idiot!”

Bobby giggled, of course, but Miss Prettyman, who had followed the boys into the hall ("I think she thought we’d steal something on the way out,” Bob confided later to Betty) maintained her poise.

“I’m—­I’m awfully sorry,” faltered the culprit.  “I hope it wasn’t very expensive.  I’ll pay Mrs. Eustice, of course, or buy her another one—­”

“That jardiniere happened to be imported from Nippon,” remarked Miss Prettyman coldly.  “I doubt if it can ever be replaced.  It has stood in that exact spot for seven years.  But then, naturally, our callers are accustomed to leaving a room gracefully.  I’m sure I—­”

The agonized Tommy tried to get in a word, failed, and took a step toward the door.  His foot caught in the rug, and for one dreadful moment he thought he was doomed to create another scene.  As he recovered his balance, Ada Nansen came down the stairs.

“What was that noise we heard a few minutes ago?” she asked sweetly, looking at the boys.

Betty and Bobby, laughing in the doorway of the reception room, the unyielding Miss Prettyman, and the cool and curious Ada swam before Tommy’s eyes.  Bob retained his presence of mind and, opening the door with one hand and pushing Tommy before him with the other, managed to effect their exit.

“Gosh, Bob, wasn’t that awful!” sighed poor Tommy, when they were finally clear of the school portal.  “Don’t I always have bad luck?  How could I know we were going to walk smack into that dame?  She remembered us, too.”