"Could we try the walls again?" Bobbie asked.

"Too late," Don answered. "They may be all right. We'll know tonight,
anyway. Everybody on time tonight, and everybody clean."

He walked off with Andy. The assistant patrol leader said after a moment:

"I think Tim's sorry now."

"What good does it do to be sorry now?" Don asked bitterly.

As soon as his supper was over, he hurried back to headquarters. Nobody
was there yet. Presently the patrol leader of the Foxes, a boy named
Kearney, came along, whistling shrilly. He opened the treasure chest and
brought out the lamps, cleaned the chimneys and lighted them.

"Hello!" he said. "Wasn't it the turn of your patrol to clean house?"

Don nodded miserably. One patch of wall, by a window, was a mess. The
windows themselves, cleaned in semi-darkness, were streaked. And some of
the floor, down by the door, had not been mopped at all.

Scouts began to arrive. Bobbie brought a shoe brush and a can of
blacking, and Ritter brought a hair brush and a comb. Andy brought
needles and khaki-colored thread. These things were laid quietly in the
patrol's locker. Nobody said anything about the walls.

By and by Tim arrived. He looked around and his face became red. Don gave
him a quick glance. He met it and his flush grew deeper, and all at once