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Page 7
Breathless the boys and girls stood back while Bobby pushed his
automobile to a point he considered a proper distance from the
opening in the fence. He took his seat, put his foot on the
pedals, and tooted the horn.
"Here I go!" he cried, making his feet fly.
The car shot forward and, much to the surprise of every one except
Bobby, went through the hole in the pickets safely and on out into
the muddy lot.
"Pretty good steering," said Palmer Davis generously.
"Let me try," begged Meg. "I can steer, Bobby."
Meg always did everything Bobby did, and it never entered his head
to refuse her. So she took the automobile, and, holding the wheel
tightly, pedaled through the hole, though more slowly than Bobby
had done. Palmer Davis was wild to try his skill, but Meg insisted
on two rides and when she had finished the second one the warning
bell rang.
"You can have it the first thing recess," promised Bobby to the
disappointed Palmer, who felt better then and helped Bobby put the
fascinating toy under the stairs in the back hall.
As soon as the recess bell sounded, Palmer and Bobby dashed down
and out into the yard. Meg, who was a grade below them but in the
same room, stayed behind to clean her desk, a favorite occupation
with the little girls. Miss Mason, the teacher, was watering a
shelf of plants, and the windows were all open to the lovely April
sunshine. Meg hummed a little, she was so happy.
"Ow! Ow!" suddenly the most heart-breaking howl rose from the
school yard, the cry of some one in great pain or sadly
frightened.
"Some one is hurt!" cried Miss Mason, hurrying to the window that
faced the playground.
"Ow! Ow! Ow!" louder and louder the shrieks rose.
"Can't be killed and make a noise like that," said Miss Mason
practically. "Can you tell who it is, Meg?"
Meg pushed aside one of the girls who stood in her way. She gave a
glance from the window. She saw a crowd of boys surrounding the
crying one and more boys hurrying from every part of the yard. The
group parted for a moment and Meg glimpsed a bit of gleaming red
tin. It was Bobby's automobile.
"It's Palmer!" Meg guessed instantly, "He must have hit the
fence!"
She turned and ran from the room, leaving Miss Mason to reason
out, if she could, what connection Palmer's howling had with
hitting the fence.
Meg slid down the banisters, as the quickest way to reach the
door, and was just in time to see Mr. Carter, the principal, run
from his office out into the yard. Mr. Carter was really principal
of the grammar school, where he spent most of his time, leaving
the primary grades under the control of Miss Wright, the vice-
principal. But he spent a certain number of days each month in the
primary school office and the pupils soon discovered that he knew
quite as well as Miss Wright what was going on in the lower
grades.
"Oh, my!" gasped Meg as she sped after Mr. Carter. "I didn't know
he was going to be here to-day. I wonder if Palmer is hurt much?"
Whether Palmer was badly hurt or not, he was certainly making a
great noise. He continued to scream, "at the top of his lungs,"
Norah would have said.
"Ow! Ow!" wailed Palmer. "Ow-wow!"
"Here, here, boy, nothing can be as bad as that sounds," said Mr.
Carter, pushing his way in among the children and stooping down to
Palmer, who was huddled in a heap on the ground, his feet and the
tin automobile apparently inextricably mixed. "Stand up, Palmer,
and let me see where you are hurt."
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