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Wilson whistled softly. "You don't say!" he managed to articulate. "Why, Mary, it's a pipe!" Anson stood still, fumbling the buttons. So that was it! School! He knew it was some awful catastrophe. Where was Billy? He glanced across at the other bed. Billy was not in it. He went slowly downstairs, washed himself, and went in to breakfast. Billy was not there. His father was just getting up from the table. "Well said, Miss, well said!" cried Miss Proudfoot, who was a very good hand at whist and very quarrelsome over the game. CHAPTER XIX CROAKER BRINGS A GIFT.