“Gone!” exclaimed Cal. “Do you mean—”

“I mean it was in my collar-box a couple of days ago and now it isn’t,” replied Ned with a shrug of his shoulders. “Somebody’s cleaned me out for fair.”

“I—I’m awfully sorry,” faltered Cal. “Are you sure it was there? Maybe you put it somewhere else, Ned.”

“Maybe a fish can fly,” answered Ned wrathfully. “I guess I know where I put it, Cal. I always keep it there. There was eight dollars exactly, a five and three ones, all folded up in a wad. It was there two days ago all right.”

“But—but who could have taken it?” asked Cal perplexedly.

“That’s what I’d like to know,” muttered Ned savagely. “If I knew, I’d wring his neck for him!”

“Have you looked all through the drawer?”

“No. What’s the use? I tell you I know it was in the collar-box.”

“Still, you might have pulled it out, maybe, when you got a collar. I’d look if I were you, Ned.”

So Ned, grumbling, looked, pulling the contents of the top drawer out and then treating the other drawers in the same manner. Afterwards he searched about the table and went through his trunk, and then, Cal egging him on, searched the pockets of his clothes. But the hunt ended fruitlessly save for a forgotten five-cent piece exhumed from the depths of a trousers pocket. This Ned threw across the room peevishly and Cal rescued it from under a bed and laid it sympathetically on the table. Ned, hands in pockets, watched him in scowling silence. Then,

“Don’t you want that too?” he exploded.

Cal looked at him in perplexity, missing the innuendo.

“What?” he asked.

Ned turned away, already regretting his question.

“Nothing,” he muttered. He pulled his chair out and seated himself at the table, drawing his books toward him. “Well, it’s gone,” he said. “That’s pretty plain. Guess we’d better be thinking of studying.”

Cal took his place across the table but felt very little like studying. Eight dollars seemed a whole lot of money to Cal and I think the loss troubled him more than it did Ned. He opened his French book, but his mind, instead of applying itself to verbs, concerned itself with the problem of the missing money. Who, he wondered, could have taken it? And had it really been stolen or had Ned himself spent it and forgotten all about the circumstances? Or had Ned, in spite of his thorough search, put it somewhere else than in the collar-box? If it had been stolen suspicion must attach itself to some member of the household. That any of the fellows would do such a thing was quite out of the question. Quite as plainly, Marm was above suspicion. That left only Hulda, the maid. Hulda had been there at West House, Cal had heard, for several years, and surely she would never have kept her place had she not been honest. No, the theory of theft was hardly plausible, he decided. Ned must have spent or mislaid the money.

He glanced up and surprised Ned observing him across the study table, and although Ned’s eyes dropped quickly back to his open book Cal had time to read the message in them. A little shiver passed up his spine and he felt the blood rushing into his face. He dropped his own gaze, feeling suddenly very miserable and lonely. It was plain enough now. Ned suspected him of stealing the money! He recalled Ned’s strange question: “Don’t you want that too?” and now he understood. He felt terribly hurt and wounded, for he had grown fond of his chum, and that Ned could suspect him of anything so mean and despicable was like a blow in the face. But he did suspect him; that was too evident. For a moment Cal wanted to spring up and declare his innocence. Surely Ned would believe him! But the tears were very near his eyes just then and so he stared at his book and sat silent.

Presently indignation began to take possession of him. What right had Ned to suspect him of being a thief? Just because he was poor and didn’t wear good clothes like the other fellows was no reason to think him a robber! He was just as decent as the rest of them, in spite of his shabby clothes! Ned thought him a thief, did he? Well, he might go on thinking so for all Cal cared. Some day the money would be found, like as not, and then Ned would see what a mistake he had made. And when he did he could beg Cal’s pardon until he was black in the face, and Cal would never forgive him! Never! He was all hurt pride now, and the first and softer misery had left him. Let Ned—yes, and all the rest of them—think what they liked! They were all snobs anyway!

Cal learned very little of his lessons that evening, nor, I fancy, did Ned do much better. They were both glad when Sandy’s door banged open and he gave the signal to lay books aside. Almost simultaneously Spud demanded admittance.

“Say, Cal, can you get that algebra?” he asked as he came in and seated himself on Cal’s bed. “It’s the hardest old stuff I ever did see. What’s the matter with you chaps, anyway?” he went on, sitting up and staring at them. “Anybody dead?”

“Nothing’s the matter,” answered Ned shortly.

“Ned’s lost some money out of his bureau drawer,” said Cal.

“Lost it! How could you lose it? How much was it?”

“Eight dollars,” replied Ned.

“Phew! That’s some money, isn’t it? How did you lose it, Ned?”

“How the dickens do I know?” asked Ned grumpily. “All I know is that it was there a couple of days ago and now it’s gone.”

Hoop and Dutch had walked in meanwhile and for their benefit the tale of Ned’s loss had to be retold. In a minute or two the whole of West House was in possession of the news and the eight boys sat around the Den and speculated as to the manner of the money’s disappearance. Cal was rather silent. Since Ned suspected him, he thought, the others would too. As a matter of fact, none of them did, but he didn’t know that. It seemed to him that every careless glance in his direction held accusation.

“Who knew it was there?” asked Sandy, unconsciously trying to look like the pictures of Sherlock Holmes.

“No one except me.”

“Are you sure? Didn’t you tell anyone?”

“Not a soul,” lied Ned. “I didn’t even mention it to Cal.”

“Yes, you did, Ned,” contradicted the latter quietly. “You told me yesterday about it. Don’t you remember?”

“Did I?” murmured Ned with a scowl.

“Yes, because you were going to lend me two dollars so’s I could get my football things and not have to wait for money from home.”

“I’d forgotten,” answered Ned carelessly. But his glance at Cal said “Fool!” as plainly as any words could have done. Cal hardly knew what had prompted him to tell that. He was angry with Ned for suspecting him and, while appreciating the latter’s efforts to keep others from doing the same, he told himself that he would accept no favors. Hoop chuckled.

“Better give it back, Cal,” he advised.

“I say,” exclaimed Spud, “maybe the fellow I saw standing at your bureau last night was the thief! Remember my telling you that I saw someone in here and whispered across and got no answer?”

“Yes, but burglars don’t wear pajamas,” said Ned.

“I didn’t say he wore pajamas. I’m almost certain that he had on a nightgown. Anyway, he was in white. And he was standing right there at that bureau.”

“What was he doing?” asked The Fungus.

“I don’t know. I didn’t pay special attention. I just whispered across ‘O you Old Ned.’ And he didn’t seem to hear me and I went on trotting about the room hugging my tummy-ache.”

“Don’t suppose you robbed yourself, do you, Ned?” asked Sandy.

“No, I don’t. Besides, I told Spud before that I wasn’t up last night once.”

“It must have been you, then, Cal,” said Dutch with a grin. “You wear a nightgown, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Cal answered seriously, “but I wasn’t up either. I cal—I guess Spud imagined it.”

“Imagined nothing!” said Spud indignantly. “I guess I know what I see!”

“Maybe it was the ghost again,” said Claire Parker in awed tones. The boys looked at him and then at each other. Dutch laughed, but it wasn’t a very hearty laugh. Finally,

“You don’t suppose it was, fellows?” asked Spud a trifle nervously.

“Oh, poppycock!” exclaimed Ned. “Ghosts don’t swipe money out of bureau drawers. Besides—”

“Besides they couldn’t spend it if they had it,” said Dutch. “Just the same I think it’s sort of funny about that thing we saw in the apple orchard; and then Spud seeing something in white in here just a little while after and—and—”

“Look here, Cal,” interrupted Hoop, “you said you dreamed of robbers last night, didn’t you?”

“Yes, it seemed to be robbers.”

“There you are then! Robbers it was! Or, at least, a robber. There was one in the house, don’t you see, and although Cal didn’t get wide awake his consciousness warned him of danger and—”

“Oh, you fellows make me tired,” said Ned peevishly. “Forget about the money. I guess I can get some more somewhere.” He turned to Cal. “Sorry I can’t lend you that two, though, Cal,” he said constrainedly. “You see I’m wiped out.”

“It doesn’t matter, thanks,” replied Cal. “I cal’late I’ll have to get some money from home.”

They discussed the affair for half an hour longer, Spud and Dutch advancing ingenious theories to connect the mysterious visitant in the orchard with the midnight marauder in the Den. Claire—or Clara, as we ought to call him to conform to custom—sat enthralled and timorous. Claire was only thirteen, we must remember, had been brought up on fairy stories and was far from being convinced that ghosts were all moonshine. Presently Spud recalled the girl that he and Cal had seen that evening next door and told about her and her cryptic remark when they were carrying the apples home.

“I think,” said Spud, “that that kid knows more than she’s telling.”

“You don’t suppose she—was the ghost, do you?” asked Sandy.

“No, she’s just a kid. She wouldn’t think of a thing like that. Besides, she was probably abed and asleep at that time of night. But I’ll bet she’s heard something.”

“We’ll appoint you a committee, Spud, to take her a box of candy once a week so she’ll keep mum,” said The Fungus.

“Yes, make it caramels,” suggested Hoop, “and she can’t talk even if she wants to.”

“How old is she?” asked Sandy.

“Oh, I don’t know,” answered Spud carelessly. “About as old as—as a girl.”

“Really? You surprise me!”

“Well, how old do you think, Cal?”

“I don’t know either,” Cal replied. “I’ve got a sister who’s thirteen and I cal’late this girl’s about the same size.”

“I guess she wouldn’t know enough to make any trouble,” said Sandy. “Well, I’m off to bed. Hope you find your money, Ned. If you want a little meanwhile I can let you have some, I guess.”

The others said good night too and the Den emptied. Cal closed the door and he and Ned gathered their books together. Finally,

“I—I’m right sorry about that money,” said Cal stiffly.

“Thanks,” answered Ned. “It doesn’t matter.”

After that they undressed in silence and went to bed.