to make a pleasant time for you. There is no object, you see, in
spoiling it."

This plain bit of truth, for the time being so commended itself to the
judgment of the boys that they regarded the speaker gravely, without
attempting a reply. She was not moralizing; at least it was unlike any
moralizing that they had ever heard. It seemed to be simply a bit of
practical common sense. Not a boy would have owned it, but each felt,
just at that moment, a faint hope that she would _not_ decide it
was of no use, and give them up. Straightforward Tim Haskell had one
more question to ask:--

"Why didn't you let them bring in their police and settle us?"

Their teacher hesitated just a moment. Would the "whole truth" do to
speak in this case? Could she hope to make them understand that she saw
in it a step lower down, and that thus degraded before her eyes, she
feared her possible hold on them would be gone forever? No; it wouldn't
do! A little, a _very_ little piece of the truth was all that she
could treat them to. A faint sparkle in her bright eyes, which every one
of them saw, and she said:--

"I was afraid you might not be excused in time to keep your engagement
with me to-morrow evening."

They all laughed, not boisterously, actually an appreciative laugh. They
were bright; there is hardly a street boy living by his wits who isn't.
They recognized the humor hidden in the answer, and enjoyed it.

Then the superintendent's bell rang. That bell always did seem to have