“How about the five hundred dollars the judge sent?” asked Reddy.

“Oh, we have decided not to touch that.  The money we take in at the concert will be added to it,” said Nora.  “That will be two entertainments for the seniors, and we think that is enough.  We want the other classes to have a chance to make some money, too.”

“If we only had the bazaar money that was stolen,” said Anne regretfully.

“Strange that no trace of the thief was ever found,” remarked David.  “I know that my wrist was lame for a week from the twist that rascal gave it.”

“I have always had a curious conviction that the man who took that money had been traveling around in the hall all evening,” said Anne thoughtfully.  “Whoever it was, he must have seen Grace deposit the money in the box, and he also knew the exact location of the switch.”

“One would imagine the box too heavy to have been spirited away so easily,” said Tom Gray.  “The weight of all that silver must have been considerable.”

“Yes, it did weigh heavily,” replied Grace.  “Still, we had a great many bills, too.  In spite of the weight the thief did make a successful get away, and we owe Judge Putnam a heavy debt of gratitude for making good our loss.”

“‘Look not mournfully into the past,’” quoted Hippy, “but rather turn your attention to the important matter of refreshing the inner man.”

“You fixed your attention on that matter years ago, Hippopotamus,” said Reddy, “and since then you’ve never turned it in any other direction.”

“Which proves me to be a person of excellent judgment and unqualified good taste,” answered Hippy with a broad grin.

“More taste than judgment, I should say,” remarked David.

“This conversation is becoming too personal,” complained Hippy.  “Excuse me, Nora, use that Irish wit of yours and lay these slanderers low.”

“I am neither a life preserver nor a repairer of reputations,” replied Nora cruelly.  “Fight your own battles.”

“All right, here goes,” said Hippy.  “Now Reddy Brooks and David Nesbit, I said, that what you said, and formerly have said to have said, was said, because you happened to have said something that I formerly was said to have said that never should have been said.  What I really said—­”

But what Hippy really did say was never revealed, for David and Reddy laid violent hands upon their garrulous friend and, escorting him to the kitchen door, shoved him outside and calmly locking the door, left him to meditate in the back yard, until Nora suddenly remembering that she had set the fudge on the steps to cool, opened the door in a hurry to find Hippy seated upon the lower step, a piece of fudge in either hand, looking the picture of content.

The party broke up at eleven o’clock, and the hard task of saying good-bye began.  The boys were to leave early the next morning, so the girls would not see them again until Easter.