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“Cheer up,” said Rodney. “Maybe they won’t come in.”

They did, though. There were four of them, their ages ranging apparently from fourteen to seventeen. They came in laughing and made directly for the soda fountain. As there were but three stools, Rodney got up and moved to the corner of the confectionery case, curious to see what manner of boys these Maple Hill students might be. It wasn’t difficult to determine which was Watson. He was the biggest of the four, good-looking in a heavy way, and evidently the leader of the present expedition. It was Watson who sang out a greeting from the doorway.

“Hello, Doolie, Old Top! Poisoned anyone to-day?”

Young Mr. Doolittle smiled uneasily. “You almost lost me my job that time, Watson,” he said sadly. “That wasn’t a joke, that wasn’t!”

“Wasn’t it?” laughed Watson. “It was a peach of a joke!” He had caught sight of Rodney on entering, and now he inquired confidentially but quite audibly, “Who’s your dressy friend, Doolie?”

The clerk replied in low tones, leaning across the counter. Watson grinned.