One stride, and he was over at Chet's desk. In a moment the package was nestling among Chet's books and Frank was back at his own desk, working busily.
The bell rang.
The students came into the classroom, Chet among them. He sat down, chuckling at some private jest, and began opening his school bag. Mr. Dowd, the mathematics teacher, entered for the first class of the day. Mr. Dowd was a tall, lean man with very little sense of humor, and Chet Morton was one of his pet aversions.
He went up to his desk and looked around, peering through his glasses.
"First exercise," he announced. Most of the students had their textbooks in readiness, but Chet usually took his time. Mr. Dowd frowned. "Morton, where is your book?"
"Right here, sir," replied Chet cheerfully. He groped in the desk and took out the textbook. With a sickening thud, the package dropped to the floor.
Chet's eyes bulged. He recognized it in an instant. A guilty flush spread over his face.
"What have you there, Morton?"
"N-n-nothing, sir."
"Don't leave it lying there on the floor. Pick it up."
Chet gingerly picked up the package.
"Your lunch?" suggested Mr. Dowd.
