“Er――yes,” murmured Morris, directing an inquiring look at Louise. Louise nodded vehemently and a half-dollar changed hands. “Thank you kindly, sir,” said the driver. “Is that all I can do for you?” “That’s all, thanks,” replied Louise. “Please tell Mr. Stuart we are very much obliged to him for doing everything so nicely.” The man took his departure and the others, although loath to do so, took a final look at the new splendor, turned out the light, locked the door and departed. Owen was presented with a crisp dollar bill before they left, however, and proceeded with his task of clearing up most cheerfully. Still elatedly discussing the success of the conspiracy, they made their way to Miss Turner’s, nearby, left the key and started homeward along Troutman Street. But at G Street Morris called a halt. “It’s only a quarter to eleven,” he said, “and Castle’s is still open. What do you say if we walk over there and celebrate?” “It’s awfully late,” murmured Louise doubtfully, “and I don’t believe mama would like it.” But Nell Sawin declared that she didn’t care whether folks liked it or not; she was going! “This is an occasion,” she said, “and it simply demands a celebration. I’ll go whether the rest do or not, Morris!” “We’ll all go,” said Gordon. “Come along, Louise. There won’t be anyone there at this time of night.” So Louise consented and they struck across-town toward the Square. “Look here,” said Morris presently, “we ought to arrange some sort of a presentation, oughtn’t we? How’s Mr. Grayson going to know where the things came from or who gave them? I wish we had thought to ask Dick or Sears or some one to be on hand and make a sort of speech.” “Couldn’t you do it, Morris?” asked Nell. “Me? Great Scott, no!” “Then Gordon――――” “Nothing doing! Thank you just the same, Nell.” “I know,” said Louise. “We’ll write on a card that the gift is made by the students and we’ll get Miss Turner to let us in there early in the morning and put it on the desk or somewhere where he will see it. Won’t that do?” “Yes,” agreed Morris. “What time does he usually show up?” “About a quarter of an hour before the bell,” said Gordon. “There’ll be plenty of time. You write it to-night, Louise, so you won’t forget it.” “Very well. ‘To Mr. Grayson, from the Students of the Clearfield High School, wishing him many happy returns of the day.’ Would that do?” “Slick,” said Morris, as they entered the drugstore. “Now, then, what are you all going to have?”