CHAPTER XVIII--THE CONSCIENCE OF PRETTYMAN SWEET

Prettyman Sweet would never have played such a contemptible trick on Bobby Hargrew and her comrades had he not been goaded to it by Lily Pendleton. Purt had what the girls called "a dreadful crush" on Lily, and she had made fun of him because he took Bobby's jokes so tamely.

"If you had a spark of pluck you'd get square with that Hargrew girl," Lily Pendleton had told him, and Purt thought that he was getting square with Bobby and her friends when he turned the key in the lock at the foot of the tower stairs.

At first as he ran out of the school building into the rain that was still falling a little, his only fear was that he had been seen by somebody. But once away from the school building he began to giggle over the joke he had played on the girls.

"They won't laugh at me so much next time," he thought.

And then he remembered, with something of a shock, that he could not afford to tell anybody about what he had done. If he owned up to having locked the girls into the tower, he knew very well what would happen to him.

If Chet Belding, or Lance Darby, did not get hold of him, one of the other boys would most certainly take him to task for the trick. And Purt Sweet was no fighter.

He wouldn't get much fun out of the trick he had played on the girls, after all! Now he wished he had not done it. What was the fun, when he had to keep it a secret?

So Purt continued on this way home with lagging feet. And every yard, the possibilities that might follow his trick grew plainer in his mind. He saw, as he went on, that instead of having done something to create a laugh, he might have been guilty of an act that would start a whole lot' of trouble.

He knew, as well as did the girls shut up in the tower, that old John, the janitor, would go home to supper soon. And at this time of year, when there were no fires to see to, except the hot water heater, the old man might not come back at all.

For, as far as Purt knew, there were no meetings in the building that evening. At least, he had heard none announced. The girls were likely to be left in the tower until the next day, while their friends were searching the city for them.

Purt went into the square, from which point he could gaze up at the tower. But it was so far away, and so tall, that he could see nothing at the narrow slits of windows up there at the top.

"If--if those girls waved a handkerchief out of the openings, nobody could see it down here," thought the conscience-stricken youth.

He had never been up in the tower himself, for it was forbidden territory. So he did not know how wide the windows were. It just struck home to Master Purt Sweet that the girls would be unable to signal their situation to anybody.

But he had reached home before these thoughts so troubled him that he felt as though he _must_ undo what he had done. Perhaps John had not gone home yet. He might still be able to get into the building, creep upstairs, unlock the door of the tower, and then run out before the girls could catch and identify him.

For Purt had a very strong desire not to be suspected in this matter. Chet Belding would take up cudgels for his sister in a minute; and Chet would, Purt was sure, thrash him most soundly!

Any of the teachers would have a pass-key to the building. Purt remembered that fact, too. Could he prevail upon one of them to lend him a key so that he could go into the building? Of course, he must have some good excuse, and he feared to appear before Professor Dimp with any such request unless he could back it with sound reason. And Mr. Sharp was entirely out of the question. Purt knew that the principal of Central. High would see right through him instantly.

As for the lady teachers, Purt was more afraid of them than of Mr. Dimp and the principal. As it grew dark the boy sat cowering in his room at home, from the window of which he could see dimly the outlines of the schoolhouse tower, and he wept a few tears.

He would have given a good deal had he not turned the key in that lock!

Purt didn't feel that he could appear at the dinner table; so he gave an excuse to his mother's maid, and went out again. Perhaps somebody had discovered the girls up in the tower and released them. He walked up Whiffle Street and saw Chet Belding hanging over the front gate.

"Hullo, Purt!" exclaimed the big fellow. "What's doing?"

"No--nothing," stammered Purt.

"Well, don't be so scared about it. What's got you now?"

"No--nothing," stammered Purt again.

"Haven't seen Lance, have you?"

"No."

"Nor the girls?"

The question scared Purt Sweet through and through. But he plucked up courage to ask:

"How should I know anything about them? Hasn't your sister come home yet?"

"No. Down to that gym., I expect. Say, these girls are getting altogether too athletic. Didn't see Jess, either, did you?"

Purt shook his head and went on. He was afraid to stop longer with Chet--afraid that the latter would learn something about what he had done. It did seem to the culprit as though knowledge of the trick played on Laura Belding and her friends stuck out all over him.

It was deep dusk now. Purt came within a block of the school building and looked slily about the corners, as though he were bent on mischief, instead of desirous of undoing the mischief he had already done.

Had old John gone home yet? Would all the lower doors of Central High be locked? These were the questions that puzzled him.

Purt ran into the side gate of the boys' recreation ground and fumbled at the basement door, by which he knew the janitor usually left. It was locked; yet, as he rattled the knob, he thought he heard an answering sound within.

He scuttled away to the corner and there waited to watch the door. Nobody came out.

After half a minute of uncertainty the lad crept on to the boys' entrance. The outside doors were closed and locked. He ran around to the street and entered the girls' yard. The outer vestibule door was opened here and he ventured in, creeping along in the darkness and fumbling for the doorknob.

And just then Purt Sweet got the scare of his life. A strong hand clasped his wrist and a sharp voice demanded:

"What do you want here? Are you waiting for those girls, too?"

"Oh, dear me!" gasped Prettyman Sweet, his knees trembling. "_Now_ I'm in a fix, sure enough!"