A very few minutes afterwards they were seated in the train and speeding toward Brimfield.

“And now,” said Amy brightly, “all we’ve got to do is to give our little song and dance to Josh!”

CHAPTER XI

BRIMFIELD MEETS DEFEAT

The interview with Mr. Fernald was not, however, the ordeal they had feared.  The principal pointed out to them that they should have returned from Thacher to Wharton by trolley with the other students, and not experimented with a strange automobile.  When the boys had shown proper contrition for that fault Mr. Fernald allowed a note of curiosity to appear in his voice.

“Now,” he said, “about this burglary, Byrd.  What—­a—­what was all that?”

So Amy narrated in detail and they exhibited their presents and the principal was frankly interested.  He smiled when he returned Clint’s scarfpin.  “You young gentlemen had quite an adventure, and I consider that you behaved very—­ah—­circumspectly.  I congratulate you on your rewards.  If I remember rightly, Byrd, you lost a watch last Winter.”

“Yes, sir, I left it at the rink.”

“This is much too fine a one to lose.  See if you can’t hold on to it.  You may be excused from church attendance this morning.  If you’ll take my advice you’ll clean up and then get some sleep.  As near as I can see you didn’t have much last night.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Amy.  “I’m sorry we—­got lost, Mr. Fernald.”

“Are you, Byrd?” There was a twinkle in the principal’s eye.  “You know if you hadn’t got lost you wouldn’t have a nice new watch!”

They were challenged several times before they reached their room by boys who wanted to know where they had been and what had happened to them, but both were too sleepy and tired to do the subject justice and so they observed a mysterious reticence and resisted all pleas.  They bathed, Amy nearly falling asleep in the tub, and then stretched themselves out gratefully on their beds.  That was the last either knew until, almost two hours later, Penny Durkin began an ambitious attempt on Handel’s largo in the next room.  They managed to get to dining hall without being penalised for tardiness and ate like wood-choppers.

That evening they went over to Hensey and called on Jack Innes and Amy told the story of their adventures to a roomful of fellows who utterly refused to believe a word of it until Clint had subscribed to the main facts and the watch and scarfpin had been passed around.  You could scarcely have blamed them for their incredulity, either, for the story as Amy told it was wonderfully and fearfully embroidered.  It was a good story, though, a mighty good story.  Amy acknowledged that himself!

“It’s a wonder,” jeered Tracey Black, “you didn’t stay over at Wharton and help your friend the Chief capture the robbers!”

“He wanted us to,” replied Amy gravely, “but of course we couldn’t.  We gave him some good advice, though, and told him he could call us up by ’phone if he got stuck.”