"No, I didn't."
"It's signed for."
"Well, I didn't sign for it," answered Dave, positively. And then he added, "Let me see that signature."
Mr. Goode shoved the receipt book toward him and pointed out the signature. It was a mere scrawl in leadpencil, that might stand for almost anything. It was certainly not in the least like Dave's handwriting.
"I was out yesterday afternoon," continued the express agent. "Went to a funeral. Dave Case kept office for me. Maybe he can tell you about it. Probably some of the other students got the package for you."
Dave Case was the driver of the local express wagon. He was out on a trip and would not be back for half an hour. This being so, there was nothing for Phil and Dave to do but to wait.
"If some of the other fellows got that package it's queer they didn't say anything," said Dave, as he and his chum walked slowly down the main street. "They must know I am anxious—with the show to come off to-night. If I don't get that wig my part won't be nearly so good."
The boys reached a corner and were standing there, not knowing what to do, when two girls crossed over, coming from a dry-goods store.
