CHAPTER III--CAKES AND ALE
"Hello!" exclaimed the twins, in one voice.
"Hello," replied the girl, and they suspected that she was smiling,although their eyes were still too unused to the dimness of the littlestore for them to be certain. She was still only a vague figure inwhite, with a deeper blur where her face should have been. Treading oneach other's heels, Ned and Laurie followed her to the other side. Thetwilight brightened and objects became more distinct. They were in frontof a sort of trough-like box in which, half afloat in a pool ofice-water, were bottles of tonic and soda and ginger-ale. Behind it wasa counter on which reposed a modest array of pastry.
"What do you want?" asked the girl in the middy.
"Ginger-ale," answered Ned. "Say, do you live here?"
"No, this is the shop," was the reply. "I live upstairs."
"Oh, well, you know what I mean," muttered Ned. "Is this your store?"
"It's my mother's. I help in it afternoons. My mother is Mrs. Deane. Theboys call her the Widow. I'm Polly Deane."
"Pleased to know you," said Laurie. "Our name's Turner. I'm Laurie andhe's Ned. Let me open that for you."
"Oh, no, thanks. I've opened hundreds of them. Oh dear! You saidginger-ale, didn't you! And I've opened a root-beer. It's so dark inhere in the afternoon."
"That's all right," Ned assured her. "We like root-beer. We'd just assoon have it as ginger-ale. Wouldn't we, Laurie?"
"You bet! We're crazy about it."
"Are you sure? It's no trouble to--Well, _this_ is ginger-ale, anyway.I'm awfully sorry!"
"What do we care?" asked Ned. "We don't own it."
"Don't own it?" repeated Polly, in a puzzled tone.
"That's just an expression of his," explained Laurie. "He's awfullyslangy. I try to break him of it, but it's no use. It's fierce."
"Of course _you_ don't use slang?" asked Polly, demurely. "Who wants theroot-beer?"
"You take it," said Laurie, hurriedly.
"No, you," said Ned. "You're fonder of it than I am, Laurie. I don'tmind, really!"
Laurie managed a surreptitious kick on his brother's shin. "Tell youwhat," he exclaimed, "we'll mix 'em!"
Ned agreed, though not enthusiastically, and with the aid of a thirdglass the deed was done. The boys tasted experimentally, each asking aquestion over the rim of his glass. Then looks of relief came over bothfaces and they sighed ecstatically.
"Corking!" they breathed in unison.
Polly laughed, "I never knew any one to do that before," she said. "I'mglad you like it. I'll tell the other boys about it."
"No, you mustn't," protested Ned. "It's our invention. We'll callit--call it--"
"Call it an Accident," suggested Laurie.
"We'll call it a Polly," continued the other. "It really is bully.It's--it's different; isn't it, Laurie? Have another?"
"Who were those on?" was the suspicious reply.
"You. The next is on me. Only maybe another wouldn't taste so good, eh?"
"Don't you fool yourself! I'll risk that."
However, the third and fourth bottles, properly combined though theywere, lacked novelty, and it was some time before the last glass wasemptied. Meanwhile, of course, they talked. The boys acknowledged that,so far, they liked what they had seen of the school. Mention of thedoctor and Miss Hillman brought forth warm praise from Polly. "Every onelikes the doctor ever so much," she declared. "And Miss Tabitha is--"
"Miss what?" interrupted Laurie.
"Miss Tabitha. That's her name." Polly laughed softly. "They call herTabby,--the boys, I mean,--but they like her. She's a dear, even if shedoes look sort of--of cranky. She isn't, though, a bit. She makesbelieve she's awfully stern, but she's just as soft as--as--"
"As Laurie's head?" offered Ned, helpfully. "Say, you sell 'mosteverything here, don't you? Are those cream-puffs?"
Ned slipped a hand into his pocket and Laurie coughed furiously. Ned'shand came forth empty. He turned away from temptation. "They look mightygood," he said. "If we'd seen those before we'd had all thatginger-ale--"
Polly spoke detachedly. "You can have credit if you like," she said,placing the empty bottles aside. "The doctor lets the boys run billshere up to a dollar. They can't go over a dollar, though."
"Personally," observed Laurie, jingling some coins in a trousers pocket,"I prefer to pay cash. Still, there are times--"
"Yes, a fellow gets short now and then," said Ned, turning for anotherlook at the pastry counter. "Maybe, just for--for convenience, it wouldbe a good plan to have an account here, Laurie. Sometimes a fellowforgets to put any money in his pocket, you know. Does your mother makethese?"
"Yes, the cream-cakes, and some of the others. The rest Miss Comfortmakes."
"That's another funny name," said Laurie. "Who is Miss Comfort?"
"She's--she's just Miss Comfort, I guess," replied Polly. "She lives onthe next corner, in the house with the white shutters. She's quite old,almost seventy, I suppose, and she makes the nicest cake in Orstead.Everybody goes to her for cakes. That's the way she lives, I guess."
"Maybe we'd ought to help her," suggested Ned, mentally choosing thelargest and fattest cakes on the tray. "I guess we'll take a couple. Howmuch are they?"
"Six cents apiece," said Polly. "Do you want them in a bag?"
"No, thanks." Ned handed one of the cakes to Laurie; "we'll eat themnow." Then, between mouthfuls; "Maybe you'd better charge this to us. Ifwe're going to open an account, we might as well do it now, don't youthink?"
Polly retired behind a counter and produced a long and narrow book, fromwhich dangled a lead pencil at the end of a string. She put the tip ofthe pencil between her lips and looked across. "You'd better tell meyour full names, I think."
"Edward Anderson Turner and--"
"I meant just your first names."
"Oh! Edward and Laurence. You can charge us each with two bottles andone cake."
"I like that!" scoffed Laurie. "Thought you were treating to cakes?"
"Huh! Don't you want to help Miss Comfort? I should think you'd liketo--to do a charitable act once in a while."
"Don't see what difference it makes to her," grumbled Laurie, "whetheryou pay for both or I pay for one. She gets her money just the same."
Ned brushed a crumb from his jacket. "You don't get the idea," hereplied gently. "Of course, I might pay for both, but you wouldn't feelright about it, Laurie."
"Wouldn't I? Where do you get that stuff? You try it and see." Lauriespoke grimly, but not hopefully. Across the counter, Polly was gigglingover the account-book.
"You're the funniest boys I ever did see," she explained, in answer totheir inquiring looks. "You--you say such funny things!"
Before she could elucidate, footsteps sounded in the room behind thestore and a tiny white-haired woman appeared. In spite of her hair, shecouldn't have been very old, for her face was plump and unwrinkled andher cheeks quite rosy. Seeing the customers, she bowed prettily and said"Good afternoon" in a very sweet voice.
"Good afternoon," returned the twins.
"Mama, these are the Turner boys," said Polly. "One of them is Ned andthe other is Laurie, but I don't know which, because they look justexactly alike. They--they're twins!"
"I want to know!" said Mrs. Deane. "Isn't that nice? I'm very pleased tomeet you, young gentlemen. I hope Polly has served you with what youwanted. My stock is kind of low just now. You see, we don't have manycustomers in summer, and it's very hard to get things, nowadays, even ifyou do pay three times what they're worth. Polly, those ice-cream conesnever did come, did they?"
"Gee, do you have ice-cream?" asked Ned; eagerly.
"Never you mind!" said Laurie, grabbing his arm. "You come on out ofhere before you die on my hands. I'm sorry to tell you, ma'am, that hedoesn't know when to stop eating. I have to go around everywhere withhim and look after him. If I didn't, he'd be dead in no time."
"I want to know!" exclaimed the Widow Deane interestedly. "Why, it'svery fortunate for him
he has you, isn't it?"
"Yes'm," answered Laurie, but he spoke doubtfully, for the littlewhite-haired lady seemed to hide a laugh behind her words. Ned wasgrinning. Laurie propelled him to the door. Then, without relinquishinghis grasp, he doffed his cap.
"Good afternoon," he said, "We'll come again,"
"We know not how," added Ned, "we know not when."
"Bless my soul!" murmured the Widow, as the screen door swung behindthem.
Back at school, the twins found a different scene from what they hadleft. The grounds were populous with boys, and open windows in the twodormitory buildings showed many others. The entrances were piled withtrunks and more were arriving. A rattling taxi turned in at the gate,with much blowing of a frenzied but bronchial horn, and added five merryyouths to the population. Ned and Laurie made their way to East Hall,conscious, as they approached, of many eyes focussed on them fromwide-flung windows. Remarks reached them, too.
"See who's with us!" came from a second-floor casement above theentrance; "the two Dromios!"
"Tweedledum and Tweedledee!"
"The Siamese Twins, I'll bet a cooky!"
"Hi, East Hall! Heads out!"
The two were glad when they reached the shelter of the doorway. "Someone's going to get his head punched before long," growled Ned, as theystarted upstairs.
"What do we care? We don't own 'em. Let them have their fun, Neddie."
"I'll let some of them have a wallop," was the answer. "You'd think wewere the first pair of twins they'd ever seen!"
"Well, maybe we are. How do you know? Suppose those trunks have come?"
They had, and for the next hour the twins were busy unpacking andgetting settled. From beyond their door came sounds of much turmoil; thenoise of arriving baggage, the banging of doors, shouts, whistling,singing; but they were otherwise undisturbed until, just when Laurie hadslammed down the lid of his empty trunk, there came a knock at theirportal, followed, before either one could open his mouth in response, bythe appearance in the doorway of a bulky apparition in a gorgeouscrimson bath-robe.
"Hello, fellows!" greeted the apparition. "Salutations and everything!"
"Hello, fellows! Salutations and everything!"]