“What is it? What has happened?” exclaimed Miss Riker, leaping to her feet.
“Sammie Todd fell out of the window,” answered Sadie Moore, who was a quick little thing.
“What in the world was he doing? Why was he leaning out of the window in that way?” demanded Miss Riker, for she had seen Sam at the sill just before he fell.
“He wanted to—he was going to—” began Joe Norton. Then Joe happened to think it was hardly the fair thing to tell on Sam—to let the teacher know about the joke. She might find out, anyhow—very likely she would—but Joe could not tell.
“What was Sam going to do?” demanded Miss Riker. But no one answered her, and from outside the window sounded the splashing in the barrel of water and the voice of Sam begging for help.
“We must go to him. Maybe he is hurt,” the teacher said, starting for the door.
But Bert was ahead of her. He did not much mind having his recitation broken up in this queer way. As a matter of fact, Bert only laughed about it afterward.
But now Sam might be in danger, through his own foolishness, and might need help. So Bert and some of the other boys rushed out of school ahead of the teacher. These boys, too, rather welcomed the interruption. They did not care much about “speaking pieces.”
As Bert and his chums reached the school yard under the open window, they saw Sam, dripping wet and covered with bits of lime and plaster, climbing from the barrel of water.
“I—I—now—I fell in!” spluttered Sam, as if there was any need of an explanation. “I—I—now—fell right in!”
“I should say you did!” laughed Bert. He could laugh now, and so could the other boys, for Sam was not in the least hurt.
Sam balanced himself for a moment on the edge of the barrel and then slipped down and out, over the edge. The water ran from him and made little puddles around his feet.
“How did it happen? Are you sure you aren’t hurt?” asked Miss Riker.
Sam did not answer the first question, but to the second he replied.
“Oh, no’m—thank you—I’m not hurt. I—I’m just—wet!”
“Yes, we see you are,” observed Miss Riker, trying not to smile, for by this time she began to suspect that something was wrong. No boy sitting in his seat in a quiet schoolroom, where “speaking pieces” is going on, can fall out of the window and into a barrel of water without having done something himself to bring it about.