CHAPTER XV--NED HAS AN IDEA
"Three hundred and thirty-three dollars and eighty-five cents," saidNed, in very satisfied tones. "We took in three hundred and sixty-threefive, but we had twenty-nine twenty to come out for expenses. Not sobad, what?"
"But something tells me," answered Laurie, mournfully, "that if all ourexpenses were deducted we'd have less than that. You see," he explainedto Polly, "I lost the piece of paper that I set down the money I paidout on, and I just had to guess what it all came to, because I'd neverhad time to add it up."
"I dare say you guessed enough," replied Ned, untroubled.
"I dare say I didn't, then!" was the indignant response. "If I did,where's all the money I had when I started? I've got a dollar and ninetycents left, and I had over four dollars when you roped me in on thething! I'm more than two dollars shy, I tell you!"
"Oh, well, it's gone for a worthy cause," laughed Ned.
"Maybe," Laurie grumbled, "but I notice that none of yours has gone thatway. You always made me pay for everything!"
"Well, I think you did it beautifully," said Polly. "I never suspectedyou'd make so much!"
They were in the little garden behind the shop. It was the second dayafter the fete, and the bell in the Congregational church tower had juststruck two. There was a perceptible nip in the air to-day, and theflowers in the border showed blackened leaves, while the nasturtiumswere frankly limp and lifeless. But here in the sunshine it was warmenough, and Laurie, spurning the bench, was seated tailor fashion on theyellowing turf. Polly had stated her absolute certitude that he wouldcatch cold, but Laurie derided the idea.
"We're awfully much obliged to you girls," said Ned. "We wouldn't havedone nearly so well if you hadn't helped. I think the committee ought togive you a--a vote of thanks or something."
"Oh, we all loved it!" Polly assured him earnestly. "We had heaps offun. Why, I wouldn't have missed that disappearing trick for anything. Iwas positively thrilled when Laurie came running up the garden!"
The boys' laughter interrupted, and Polly looked puzzled.
"That wasn't Laurie," explained Ned. "That was me."
"But I was sure you were the one in the chair! And if you were in thechair, how could you--"
"I wasn't, though. That was Laurie."
Polly sighed despairingly. "I'll never get so I can tell you apart," shesaid; "unless I hear you talk, that is! I don't see yet how it was done.Won't you please tell me?"
"It was as easy as easy," replied Ned. "You see, the way I planned itfirst--"
"The way _who_ planned it?" inquired Laurie.
"Well, the way _we_ planned it, then."
"Hold on! Whose idea was it in the first place, partner?"
"Oh, don't be so fussy! Anyway, you couldn't have done it without me!"
"I never said I could. But you've got a lot of cheek to talk about theway _you--_"
Polly clapped her hands to her ears. "I'm not being told how it wasdone, and I do want to know. Go on, Ned."
"Well, it was done like this. You see, Laurie was tied to the chair, andI was hiding out at the other end of the garden. Then Lew Cooper put thescreen around the chair." Polly nodded. "Then I started toward theplatform, and every one turned to look at me." Polly nodded again."Well, right behind the platform was the bulkhead door into the cellar.When Cooper shouted to me to come on, two fellows who were on the stairswaiting pushed the door open, grabbed Laurie, chair and all, and whiskedhim down cellar. Then they put another chair, just like the first one,behind the screen, and when Cooper pulled the screen away, there it was,just as if Laurie had somehow untied himself and--and vanished! Ofcourse, if any one had been looking at the screen instead of at me justthen, he might have seen what was going on, although it was pretty darkbehind there and he mightn't have. Anyway, no one was, I guess. Thetrick depended on the--the faint similarity between us. Lots of fellowswho knew us were on to it, but the folks from the village were puzzledfor fair!"
"Indeed they were," agreed Polly. "They just couldn't understand it atall!"
"It would have been better," mused Laurie, "if we could have taken thescreen away and showed the empty chair before Ned came into sight; butthere didn't seem to be any way of doing that. We had to have the peoplelooking the other way, and we had to work quick. As it was, I was halfkilled, for Wainwright and Plummer were in such a hurry to get the otherchair up there that they just dumped me on my back! And then they ranupstairs through the kitchen to see the end of it, and I was kickingaround down there for five minutes!"
"Well," said Ned, a few minutes later, "I'm not finding out what to dowith this." He opened one hand and exposed some bills and two ten-centpieces folded into a wad. "Your mother says she won't take it,Polly--that she didn't understand we were going to pay her for thecream-puffs. Gee, we wouldn't have thought of asking her to make themfor nothing!"
Polly nodded sympathetically. "Mother says, though, that the boys bringso much trade to her that it's only fair for her to help them."
"That's poppy-cock!" said Laurie. "Seven dollars and twenty cents is alot of money. Look here; don't you think she ought to take it, Polly?"
Polly was silent a moment. Then she nodded affirmatively. "Yes, I do,"she said frankly. "She really needs the money, Ned. I wouldn't tell anyone else, but we're just frightfully hard up, and I wouldn't be a bitsurprised if Mother had to give up here before very long."
"Give up!" exclaimed Ned. "You mean--go away?"
"Yes. You see, she doesn't make very much money in the store; nothinglike she used to before the war sent prices so high. And then, what withtaxes and water and light, and the interest on the mortgage, why, ithardly pays. Just the same, if she says she won't take the money, Ned,why, I guess she won't, and that's all there is to it. But she oughtto!"
"Can't she charge more for things?" asked Laurie. "Everyone else doesnowadays. That bake-shop down on Hudson Street gets eight cents forcream-puffs and eclairs, and you sell them for six."
"I know; but Mama says six cents is enough and that the boys oughtn't tohave to pay any more. And lots of things she sells for hardly any morethan she used to before prices advanced. Why, I have to watch all thetime; and when bills come in for things, I have to compare them withwhat we're getting for them, and lots of times I find that Mama's beenselling for less than what she's paid! She just won't be a profiteer,she says!"
"Gee! I hope you don't have to shut up," said Laurie. He looked aroundthe little garden. "It--it's such a jolly place! And the house andeverything. Gee, that would be a shame!"
Polly sighed while she nodded. "It is nice," she agreed; "but there areso many things that ought to be done! Uncle Peter never would do muchfor us. He did promise to have the house painted, but he died about amonth after that, and so it was never done."
"Suppose he up and died so's he wouldn't have to do it?" inquiredLaurie, suspiciously.
Polly shook her head and looked a trifle shocked, until she caught thesmile in Ned's eyes.
"It doesn't look as if it would cost much money to paint it," remarkedNed, looking up at the rear of the little two-and-a-half-story building."It's not much more than a doll's house, anyway. How many rooms arethere, Polly?"
"Three upstairs, and then a sort of attic room under the roof; and twodownstairs."
"Uh-huh. I just wondered. It wouldn't be much of a trick to paint theoutside. Bet you I could do it in a couple of days."
Laurie gasped. "A couple of days! You? How do you get like that? Itwould take a real painter a week to do it!"
"Maybe; but I'm not a real painter," answered Ned, grinning. He glancedat the crumpled wad in his hand and held it tentatively toward Polly."Maybe you'd better take charge of this, Polly, until we decide what todo with it."
But Polly put her hands resolutely behind her, and shook her head withdecision. "No, Ned, I'd rather not. If Mama says she won't have it, shewon't, and you might just as well give it back to the--the fund."
Somewhat to Laurie's surprise, Ned pocketed the
money without furtherprotest. "All right," he said. "It's very kind of your mother. Wemustn't forget to see that her name's included in the list of those whodonated things, Laurie. This week's 'Messenger' is going to tell allabout it. Well, I've got to pull my freight. You coming, partner?"
"Yes, I guess so," replied Laurie, without much enthusiasm. "I promisedBob and George to get another fellow and play some tennis thisafternoon."
"Gee! it must be great to have nothing to do but play," sighed hisbrother.
"Huh, any one would think, to hear you talk, that you were working,"replied Laurie, crushingly. "All you do is stand around and watch theothers."
"Think so?" Ned smiled in a superior way. "You come down this afternoonand see how much standing around I do. Joe Stevenson says I've got topractise goals now. Isn't that the limit?"
"I suppose it pains him to see you loafing," said Laurie. "Anyway, Idare say it'll keep you out of mischief."
Laurie led the way to the back fence, against which leaned a plank withtwo pieces of wood nailed across it. This afforded a short cut to andfrom school, and was an idea of Bob's. From the top of the fence theydropped into the shrubbery and then made their way to the side gate.
The arbor had not yet been denuded of its evergreen clothing, and therewere other evidences of the recent festival in the shape of crumpledpaper napkins lying on the ground. Thomas had taken down the lanternsand was packing them away in their case by the kitchen porch, and theboys called a greeting to him as they passed.
"Bob still mean to make a tennis-court here?" asked Ned, as they wentthrough the gate.
"Yes. He's going to tear down that arbor right away, he says. So far,though, he hasn't found any one to do the work on the court. Every oneis busy. I don't believe he will get it done in time to use it thisfall."
"Of course he won't. It's nearly November now. Say, you'd better takethis money and hand it over to Whipple. You'll see him before I do. Andtell him to put Mrs. Deane's name down with the other folks whocontributed, will you?"
"All right; but I think it's a shame to let her stand for all thosecakes."
"So do I; only--"
"Only what?"
"Maybe we can make it up to her another way. I've got an idea, Laurie."
"I hope it's better than most of 'em. What is it?"
And when Ned had explained it, Laurie considered a long moment and thenindorsed it enthusiastically. "That's corking!" he cried. "For once,Ned, the old bean has worked! Only, when could we--"
"Christmas vacation," said Ned. "We won't have much to do then. What doyou say?"
"I say that, for the first time in my life, Neddie, I'm proud toacknowledge you as my twin!"