"Kip!" he whispered, "was it you? Did you put the money back when you found it gone from the treasury?" "Mel and I divided it. We found the accounts short and of course we had to do something. We thought we'd made a mistake in the books," explained Paul. "So we turned in the sum and evened things up." "Without telling anybody?" "Yes; what was the use of blabbing it all over town?" "Gee!" Donald fumbled in his pocket. "Well, I've found the hundred, Kip. Here it is safe and sound. The envelope had slipped down through a hole in the lining of my pocket. The other day when I was hunting for my fountain pen, I discovered the rip. You bet I was glad. I'd have made that money good somehow. I wasn't going to take it. I hope you'll believe I'm not such a cad as that. But what I ought to have done was to tell my father in the first place. It's been an awful lesson to me. I've worried myself thin--I have, Kip. You needn't laugh." Nevertheless, Paul did laugh. He couldn't help it when he looked at Donald's conscience-smitten expression. Moreover he could now afford to laugh. But Donald was not so easily consoled. "I'm almighty sorry, Kip," he said. "The whole thing has been rotten. Think of you and Mel Carter turning in your cash to make the bank accounts square. Where on earth did you each get your fifty?" "Some of it was money I'd earned and put aside toward a typewriter; and the rest I got by cashing in my war stamps." "Oh, I say!" Regret and mortification overwhelmed the culprit. "It's no matter now, Don." "But it is, old chap. I suppose that knocked you out of buying your typewriter. It's a darn shame." "I was pretty sore, Don--no mistake!" admitted Paul. "But it's all right now. The accounts are O.K.; I shall get my money back; and I have a typewriter into the bargain. Mr. Carter has just given me a second-hand machine they weren't using." "Did he know about this muddle?" "Not a yip! He did know, though, that I wanted the typewriter." "Well, I'll take back all I ever said about him," cried Donald. "He's a trump! As for you, Kip--you deserve a hundred typewriters! It's all-fired good of you not to rub this in. I know I've caused you a lot of trouble and I'm sorry. That's all I can say." "Shut up, Tortoise. It's all right now," repeated Paul. "Only don't go appropriating any more funds that don't belong to you. We might jail you next time. Taking other people's cash isn't much of a stunt." "You bet it isn't!" cried Donald heartily. "When you do it you think it's going to be easy as fiddle to slip it back again; but it doesn't seem to turn out that way. Jove, but I'm glad I'm clear of this mess!" "I guess we both will sleep better to-night than we have for one while," called Paul, moving toward the house. "So long, Don!" "So long, Kipper. And don't you go losing that money. It's caused too much worry already." "I'll take care of it--don't you fuss about that. There are no rips in my coat lining."