Ned stared and stared. Then he closed his eyes for an instant, opened them, and stared again. After that he pinched himself hard to make certain that he was awake and not still dreaming on the knoll beside the road. The substitute was speaking to the referee now, and Deering was walking away from the group in the direction of the bench. The cheering began, the leaders waving their arms in unison along the length of the Hillman’s stand:
“’Rah, ’rah, ’rah! ’Rah, ’rah, ’rah! ’Rah, ’rah, ’rah! Deering!”
And then again, a second later: “’Rah, ’rah, ’rah! ’Rah, ’rah, ’rah! ’Rah, ’rah, ’rah! Turner!”
Ned turned imploringly to the tall policeman. “What – who was that last fellow they cheered?” he faltered.
The policeman looked down impatiently.
“Turner. Guess he’s going to kick a goal for ’em.”
CHAPTER XXI – THE UNDERSTUDY
“Block that kick! Block that kick! Block that kick!” chanted Farview imploringly, from across the trampled field.
Yet above the hoarse entreaty came Hop Kendrick’s confident voice: “All right, Hillman’s! Make it go! Here’s where we win it! Kick formation! Turner back!” And then: “25 – 78 – 26 – 194! 12 – 31 – 9 – ”
But it was Hop himself who dashed straight forward and squirmed ahead over one white line before the whistle blew.
“Fourth down!” called the referee. “About four and a half!”
“Come on!” cried Hop. “Make it go this time! Hard, fellows, hard! We’ve got ’em going!” He threw an arm over the shoulder of the new substitute. Those near by saw the latter shake his head, saw Hop draw back and stare as if aghast at the insubordination. Farview protested to the referee against the delay, and the latter called warningly. Hop nodded, and raised his voice again:
“Kick formation! Turner back!”
Then he walked back to where the substitute stood and dropped to his knees.
“Place-kick!” grunted a man at Ned’s elbow. “Can’t miss it from there if the line holds!”
Ned, in a perfect agony of suspense, waited. Hop was calling his signals. There was a pause. Then: “16 – 32 – 7 – ”
Back came the ball on a long pass from Kewpie. It was high, but Hop got it, pulled it down, and pointed it. Ned saw the kicker step forward. Then he closed his eyes.
There was a wild outburst from all around him, and he opened them again. The ball was not in sight, but a frantic little man in a gray sweater was waving his arms like a semaphore behind the farther goal. Along the space between stand and side-line a quartette of youths leaped crazily, flourishing great blue megaphones or throwing them in air. Above the stand blue banners waved and caps tossed about. On the scoreboard at the far end of the field the legend read: “Hillman’s 10 – Visitors 9.”
A moment later, a boy with a wide grin on his tired face and nerves that were still jangling made his way along Summit Street in the direction of school. Behind him the cheers and shouts still broke forth at intervals, for there yet remained some three minutes of playing time. Once, in the sudden stillness between cheers, he heard plainly the hollow thump of a punted ball. More shouts then, indeterminate, dying away suddenly. The boy walked quickly, for he had a reason for wanting to gain the security of his room before the crowd flowed back from the field. At last, at the school gate, he paused and looked back and listened. From the distant scene of battle came a faint surge of sound that rose and fell and rose again and went on unceasingly as long as he could hear.
Back in Number 16, Ned threw his cap aside and dropped into the nearest chair. There was much that he understood, yet much more that was still a mystery to him. One thing, however, he dared hope, and that was that the disgrace of having failed his fellows had passed him miraculously by! As to the rest, he pondered and speculated vainly. He felt horribly limp and weary while he waited for Laurie to come. And after a while he heard cheering, and arose and went to a window. There could no longer be any doubt as to the final outcome of the game. Between the sidewalk throngs, dancing from side to side of the street with linked arms, came Hillman’s, triumphant!
And here and there, borne on the shoulders of joyous comrades, bobbed a captured player. There were more than a dozen of them, some taking the proceeding philosophically, others squirming and fighting for freedom. Now and then one succeeded in getting free, but recapture was invariably his fate. At least, this was true with a single exception while Ned watched. The exception was a boy with red-brown hair, who, having managed to slip from his enthusiastic friends, dashed through the throng on the sidewalk, leaped a fence, cut across a corner, and presently sped through the gate on Washington Street, pursuit defeated. A minute later, flushed and breathless, he flung open the door of Number 16.
At sight of Ned, Laurie’s expression of joyous satisfaction faded. He halted inside the door and closed it slowly behind him. At last, “Hello,” he said, listlessly.
“Hello,” answered Ned. Then there was a long silence. Outside, in front of the gymnasium, they were cheering the victorious team, player by player. At last, “We won, didn’t we?” asked Ned.
Laurie nodded as if the thing were a matter of total indifference. He still wore football togs, and he frowningly viewed a great hole in one blue stocking as he seated himself on his bed.
“Well,” he said, finally, “what happened to you?”
Ned told him, at first haltingly, and then with more assurance as he saw the look of relief creep into Laurie’s face. As he ended his story, Laurie’s countenance expressed only a great and joyous amusement.
“Neddie,” he chuckled, “you’ll be the death of me yet! You came pretty near to it to-day, too, partner!” He sobered as his thoughts went back to a moment some fifteen minutes before, and he shook his head. “Partner, this thing of understudying a football hero is mighty wearing. I’m through for all time. After this, Ned, you’ll have to provide your own substitute! I’m done!”
“How – why – how did you happen to think of it?” asked Ned, rather humbly. “Weren’t you – scared?”
“Scared? Have a heart! I was frightened to death every minute I sat on the bench. And then, when Mulford yelped at me, I – well, I simply passed away altogether! I’m at least ten years older than I was this morning, Neddie, and I’ll bet I’ve got gray hairs all over my poor old head. You see, Murray as much as said that it was all day with you if you didn’t show up. Kewpie was a bit down-hearted about it, too. I waited around until half-past one or after, thinking every moment that you’d turn up – hoping you would, anyhow; although, to be right honest, Neddie, I had a sort of hunch, after the way you acted and talked, that maybe you’d gone off on purpose. Anyhow, about one o’clock I got to thinking, and the more I thought the more I got into the notion that something had to be done if the honor of the Turners was to be – be upheld. And the only thing I could think of was putting on your togs and bluffing it through. Kewpie owned up that he’d been talking rot last night – that he didn’t really think you’d be called on to-day. And I decided to take a chance. Of course, if I’d known what was going to happen I guess I wouldn’t have had the courage; but I didn’t know. I thought all I’d have to do was sit on the bench and watch.
“So I went over to the gym and got your togs on, and streaked out to the field, I guess I looked as much like you as you do, for none of the fellows knew that I wasn’t you. I was careful not to talk much. Mr. Mulford gave me thunder, and so did Murray, and Joe Stevenson looked pretty black. I just said I was sorry, and there wasn’t much time to explain, anyway, because the game was starting about the time I got there. Once, in the third period, when Slavin was hurt, Mulford looked along the bench and stopped when he got to me, and I thought my time had come. But I guess he wanted to punish me for being late. Anyway, Boessel got the job. When the blow did fall, Neddie, I was sick clean through. My tummy sort of folded up and my spine was about as stiff as – as a drink of water! I wanted to run, or crawl under the bench or something. ‘You’ve pleased yourself so far to-day, Turner,’ said Mulford. ‘Now suppose you do something for the school. Kendrick will call for a kick. You see that it gets over, or I’ll have something to say to you later. Remember this, though: not a word to any one but the referee until after the next play. Now get out there and win this game!’
“Nice thing to say to a chap who’d never kicked a football in his life except around the street! But, gee, Neddie, what could I do? I’d started the thing, and I had to see it through. Of course I thought that maybe I’d ought to fess up that I wasn’t me – or, rather, you – and let some one else kick. But I knew there wasn’t any one else they could depend on, and I decided that if some one had to miss the goal, it might as well be me – or you. Besides, there was the honor of the Turners! So I sneaked out, with my heart in my boots, – your boots, I mean, – and Hop called for a line play, and then another one, and I thought maybe I was going to get off without making a fool of myself. But no such luck. ‘Take all the time you want, Nid,’ said Hop. ‘We’ll hold ’em for you. Drop it over, for the love of mud! We’ve got to have this game!’ ‘Drop it?’ said I. ‘Not on your life, Hop! Make it a place-kick or I’ll never have a chance!’ ‘What do you mean?’ he asked. ‘I mean I can’t drop-kick to-day.’ I guess something in my voice or the way I said it put him on, for he looked at me pretty sharp. Still, maybe he didn’t guess the truth, either, for he let me have my way and let me kick.
“After that” – Laurie half closed his eyes and shook his head slowly – “after that I don’t really know what did happen. I have a sort of a hazy recollection of Hop shouting some signals that didn’t mean a thing in my young life, and kneeling on the ground a couple of yards ahead of me. I didn’t dare look at the goal, though I knew it was ahead of me and about twenty yards away. Then there was a brown streak, and things began to move, and I moved with them. I suppose I swung my foot, – probably my right one, though it may have been my left, – and then I closed my eyes tight and waited for some one to kill me. Next thing I knew, I was being killed – or I thought I thought I was, for a second. It turned out, though, that the fellows weren’t really killing me; they were just beating me black and blue to show they were pleased.
“Of course, it was all the biggest piece of luck that ever happened, Ned. Hop aimed the ball just right, and somehow or other I managed to kick it. Maybe any one would have done just as well, because I guess it was an easy goal. Anyway, the honor of the Turners was safe!”
“You’re a regular brick,” said Ned, a bit huskily. “What – what happened afterward? I didn’t stay.”
“Afterward Hop looked at me kind of queer and said, ‘I guess that’ll do for you, Turner,’ and I beat it away from there as fast as I knew how, and Mulford sent in some other poor unfortunate. There were only half a dozen plays after that, and we kicked whenever we got the ball.”
“Do you think any one but Hop found out?” asked Ned, anxiously.
“Not a one. And I’m not sure, mind you, that Hop did. You see, he didn’t say anything. Only, he did call me ‘Nid’ at first, and then ‘Turner’ the next time. I haven’t seen him since. I guess I never will know, unless I ask him. One thing’s sure, though, Ned, and that is that Hop won’t talk.”
“You don’t think I’d ought to fess up?” asked Ned.
“I do not,” replied Laurie stoutly. “What’s the good? It wasn’t your fault if you went to sleep out in the country. If any one’s to blame, it’s me. I oughtn’t to have hoaxed them. No, sir; if Mulford or any one says anything, just you tell them you fell asleep and couldn’t help getting there late. But I don’t believe any one will ask questions now. They’re all too pleased and excited. But, gee, Neddie! I certainly am glad I made that goal instead of missing it. I’d be a pretty mean feeling pup to-night if I hadn’t!”
“It was wonderful,” mused Ned. “You putting it over, I mean. With all that crowd looking on, and Farview shouting – ”
“Shouting? I didn’t hear them. I didn’t know whether there was any one around just then! I had troubles of my own, partner! Know something? Well, I think there’s the chap who kicked that goal.” Laurie raised his right foot and displayed one of Ned’s scuffed football shoes. “I guess I just sort of left things to him and he did the business. Good old Mister Shoe!”
Ned jumped to his feet and pulled Laurie from the bed. “For the love of lemons,” he cried, “get those togs off before any one comes in!”
“Gee, that’s so!” Laurie worked feverishly, while Ned stumbled over a chair and turned the key in the lock.
“A fine pair of idiots we are!” exclaimed Ned, as he ripped Laurie’s shirt off for him. “Suppose Hop or Kewpie had come in while we were sitting here!”
Hillman’s spent the rest of the evening in celebration. In the dining-hall the appearance of any member of the squad was the signal for hand-clapping and cheers, and when Ned entered, followed by Laurie, the applause was deafening. Ned showed himself to be a very modest and retiring hero, for he fairly scuttled to his seat, and kept his head bent over his plate long after the applause had died away. Then, stealing an unhappy glance at Laurie, he found that youth grinning broadly, and was the recipient of a most meaningful wink. After supper, in the corridor, the twins ran squarely into Hop Kendrick. Ned tried to pull aside, but Laurie stood his ground. Hop was plainly a very happy youth to-night, although even when happiest he never entirely lost his look of earnest gravity.
“Well, we did it, Nid!” he said joyfully, clapping that youth on the shoulder. “That was a corking kick of yours, son!”
Ned stammered something utterly unintelligible, but Laurie came to the rescue: “Ned says it was the way you pointed the ball that won that goal, Hop,” he said casually. “He’s mighty modest about it.”
Hop shot a quick glance at the speaker, and Ned declared afterward that there was a smile behind it. But all he said was: “Oh, well, pointing isn’t everything, Nod. Some one’s got to kick it!”
When he had gone on, Ned and Laurie viewed each other questioningly. “Think he knows?” asked Ned. Laurie shook his head frowningly. “You’ve got me, partner!” he answered.
And, because neither asked Hop Kendrick outright, neither ever did know!
There were songs and speeches and a general jollification after supper, ending in a parade of cheering, singing youths who marched through the town from end to end, and at last drew up outside Doctor Hillman’s porch and shouted until that gentleman appeared and responded. The Doctor’s words were few, but they hit the spot, and when there had been another long cheer for him, and another long cheer for the team, and a final mighty cheer for the school, the happy boys called it a day and sought the dormitories.
Ned was just dropping off to sleep that night when Laurie’s voice reached him through the darkness.
“Ned!” called Laurie.
“Huh?”
“Are you awake?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Listen. It’s a fortunate thing to be a twin.”
There was a long moment of silence. Then Ned’s voice came sleepily:
“’Cause if one twin can’t the other twin kin!”
CHAPTER XXII – THE BOYS MAKE A PRESENT
The week or so succeeding the Farview game seemed like an anticlimax. The bottom had sort of dropped out of things and there was no immediate excitement to look forward to. The weather became as miserable as weather possibly could, the slight snowfall that followed the rain of Thanksgiving Day lasting only long enough to be seen by the early risers. Perhaps it was well that lack of events and inclement weather ruled, for Ned and a good many other boys in school were no worse for an opportunity to apply themselves undisturbedly to their studies. Basketball candidates were called the first Monday in December, and the twins held a serious conference on the question of reporting. Ned, who felt rather flat since there was no more football, was half inclined to go in for the game, and would have had Laurie insisted. But Laurie voted that for the present the Turners had done sufficient in the athletic line, that the honor of the family demanded no further sacrifices on the altar of duty. So Ned abandoned the idea and talked of trying for the crew in the spring.
When December was a week old, the fellows set their gaze on the Christmas recess, which this year began on Wednesday, three days before Christmas, and lasted until the 2d of January. Eleven days are not sufficient to make a trip across the continent and back advisable, although the twins figured that, with the best of fortune, they would be able to reach Santa Lucia in time for dinner Christmas night. On the other hand, the missing of one connection would delay their arrival until the following afternoon, and, as Laurie pointed out, they were fairly certain to be held up somewhere on the way, and a sleeping-car wasn’t exactly an ideal place in which to spend the holiday! Besides, there was a noticeable lack of encouragement from home. It had been accepted beforehand that the boys were to remain at the school during the recess, and nothing in Mr. Turner’s fortnightly letters hinted that he had changed his mind.
“I’d just as lief stay here, anyway,” declared Ned. “We can have a lot more fun. Maybe there’ll be a bunch of snow, and I’m dying to try skiing.”
“You bet! And skating, too! And then there’s that other scheme. Mustn’t forget that, Neddie.”
“You mean – ”
“Yes. Didn’t you say we’d do it during vacation?”
“Sure! It – it’ll take quite a lot of money, though, Laurie. And we’ll have presents to buy for Dad and Aunt Emmie and the cousins – ”
“The cousins get Christmas cards, and that’s all they do get,” interrupted Laurie, decisively. “That’s all they ever give us, and I’d rather spend my money on something that’ll really – really benefit some one. I guess Dad’ll send us some more money, too, for Christmas. We can do it, all right. I’ve got nearly seven dollars right now. I haven’t spent hardly any money this month.”
“All right. Some day soon we’ll go downtown and find out how much it’s going to cost and what we’ll need and everything. I say, we can get Bob to help us, too!”
“Rather! And three or four other fellows, I guess. Every one likes the Widow, and George says there will be five or six fellows here during recess. He was here last year, and he says he had a dandy time.”
“Let’s get George this afternoon and get the thing started. We can find out the – the area and ask the man how much we’ll need.”
“Sure! And we can buy it and store it at Bob’s. Then all we’ll have to do will be carry it over the fence. I’ll go down and see if I can find him. Look here, Neddie. Why don’t we do it before Christmas and make it a sort of Christmas present? Say we worked hard all day Thursday and Friday – ”
“Great! Only if it snowed – ”
Laurie’s face fell. “Gee, that’s so! I suppose we couldn’t do it if it snowed. Or rained. Or if it was frightfully cold.”
“They say it doesn’t get real cold here until after New Year’s,” said Ned, reassuringly. “But of course it might snow or rain. Well, we’ll do it in time for Christmas if we can. If we can’t, we’ll do it for New Year’s. I’ll bet she’ll be tickled to death. I say, though! We never found out about the color!”
“I did,” answered Laurie modestly. “I asked Polly. She said white.”
“White! Geewhillikins, Laurie, that makes it harder, doesn’t it? We’d have to put on two coats!”
“Think so?” Laurie frowned. “I guess we would. That would take twice as long, eh? Look here; maybe – maybe I can get Polly to change her mind!”
“That’s likely, you chump!” Ned scowled thoughtfully. Finally, “I tell you what,” he said. “Suppose we went around there sometime, and talked with Mrs. Deane, and told her how nice we think blue looks and how sort of – of distinctive! Gee, it wouldn’t be any trick at all to make it blue; but white – ” He shook his head despondently.
“Cheer up!” said Laurie. “I’ve got the dope, partner! Listen. We’ll tell them that it ought to be blue because blue’s the school color and all that. Mrs. Deane thinks a heap of Hillman’s, and she’ll fall for it as sure as shooting. So’ll Polly! Come on! Let’s find George and get the thing started!”
“Better get Bob to go with us, too. He said something about wanting to pay his share of it, so we’d better let him in right from the start. After all, we don’t want to hog it, Laurie!”
A fortnight later the exodus came. Of the four-score lads who lived at Hillman’s, all but eight took their departure that Wednesday morning, and Ned and Laurie and George watched the last group drive off for the station with feelings of genuine satisfaction. Life at school during the eleven days of recess promised to be busy and enjoyable, and they were eager to see the decks cleared, so to speak, and to start the new way of living. Ned and Laurie had had plenty of invitations for Christmas week. Both Kewpie and Lee Murdock had earnestly desired their society at their respective homes, and there had been others less insistent but possibly quite as cordial invitations. But neither one had weakened. George half promised one of the boys to visit him for a few days after Christmas, but later he canceled his acceptance.
Besides George and the twins, there remained at school five other fellows who, because they lived at a distance and railway fares were high, or for other reasons, found it expedient to accept Doctor Hillman’s hospitality. None of the five, two juniors, one lower middler, and two upper middlers, were known to the twins more than casually when recess began; but eating together three times a day and being thrown in one another’s society at other times soon made the acquaintance much closer, and all proved to be decent, likable chaps.
Meals were served at a corner table in West Hall, and during recess there were seldom fewer than three of the faculty present. That may sound depressing, but in vacation-time an instructor becomes quite a human, jovial person, and the scant dozen around the table enjoyed themselves hugely. In the evening Doctor Hillman held open house, and Miss Tabitha showed a genius for providing methods of entertainment. Sometimes they popped corn in the fireplace in the cozy living-room, sometimes they roasted apples. Once it was chestnuts that jumped on the hearth. Then, too, Miss Tabitha was a past mistress in the art of making fudge, and on two occasions Mr. Barrett, the mathematics instructor, displayed such a sweet tooth that the boys lost the last of their awe and “ragged” him without mercy. Several times the Doctor read aloud, choosing, to the boys’ surprise, a corking detective novel that had them squirming on the edges of their chairs. Toward the last of the vacation, Laurie confided to Ned and George that he wished recess was just beginning.
To Ned’s and Laurie’s great disappointment, neither snow nor ice appeared and the weather remained merely briskly cold, with sometimes a day like Indian summer. But I am getting ahead of my story, which really comes to an end on Christmas Day.
More than a week before the closing of school, the four conspirators had finished their preparations for the task that was to provide the Widow Deane with a novel Christmas present. In Bob’s cellar were many cans containing blue paint, white paint, linseed oil, and turpentine. There were brushes there, too, and a scraper, and a roll of cotton rags provided by Polly. For, in the end, it had become necessary to acquaint Polly with the project. Against Bob’s back fence reposed all the ladders, of varying lengths, that the neighborhood afforded. Wednesday evening Ned and Laurie and George herded the other boys into George’s room, and explained the scheme and asked for volunteers. They got five most enthusiastic ones.
Nine o’clock the next morning was set as the time for the beginning of the work, and at that hour nine rather disreputably-attired youths appeared in Mrs. Deane’s yard, arriving by way of the back fence, and began their assault. The first the Widow knew of what was happening was when, being then occupied with the task of tidying up the sleeping-room on the second floor, she was startled to see the head and shoulders of a boy appear outside her window. Her exclamation of alarm gave place to murmurs of bewilderment as the supposed burglar contented himself with lifting the two shutters from their hinges and passing them down the ladder to some unseen accomplice. Mrs. Deane looked forth. In the garden was what at first glimpse looked like a convention of tramps. They were armed with ladders and brushes and pots of paint, and they were already very busy. Across two trestles set on the grass plot, the stolen shutters were laid as fast as they were taken down. One boy, flourishing a broad-bladed implement, scraped the rough surfaces. A second plied a big round brush, dusting diligently. Numbers three and four, as soon as the first two operatives retired, attacked with brushes dripping with white paint. In almost no time at all the first shutter was off the trestles and leaning, fresh and spotless, against the fence. Every instant another shutter appeared. Mrs. Deane gazed in fascinated amazement. One after another, she recognized the miscreants: the two Turner boys, George Watson, Mr. Starling’s son, Hal Goring, the Stanton boy, and the rest; but, although recognition brought reassurance, bewilderment remained, and she hurried downstairs as fast as ever she could go.
Polly was on the back porch, a very disturbed and somewhat indignant Towser in her arms, evidently a party to the undertaking, and to her Mrs. Deane breathlessly appealed.
“Polly! What are they doing?” she gasped.
“You’ll have to ask the boys, Mama.” Polly’s eyes were dancing. “Nid, here’s Mama, and she wants to know what you’re doing!”
Nid hurried up, a dripping brush in one hand and a smear of white paint across one cheek, followed by Laurie. The others paused at their various tasks to watch smilingly.
“Painting the house, Mrs. Deane!”
“Painting the house! My house? Why – why – what – who – ”
“Yes’m. There’s the blue paint. It’s as near like the old as we could find. You don’t think it’s too dark, do you?”
“But I don’t understand, Nid Turner!” said Mrs. Deane helplessly. “Who told you to? Who’s going to pay for it?”
“It’s all paid for, ma’am. It – it’s a sort of Christmas present from us – from the school. You – you don’t mind, do you?”
“Well, I never did!” Mrs. Deane looked from Ned to Laurie, her mouth quivering. “I – I don’t know what to say. I guess I’ll – I’ll go see if any one’s – in the shop, Polly. Did you think you – heard the bell?” Mrs. Deane’s eyes were frankly wet as she turned hurriedly away and disappeared inside. Ned viewed Polly anxiously.
“Do you think she – doesn’t like it?” he half whispered.
Polly shook her head and laughed softly, although her own eyes were not quite dry. “Of course she likes it, you stupid boy! She just didn’t know what to say. She’ll be back pretty soon, after she’s had a little cry.”
“Oh!” said Ned and Laurie in chorus, their faces brightening; and Laurie added apologetically: “Gee, we didn’t want to make her cry, Polly!”
“That sort of a cry doesn’t hurt,” said Polly.
Afterward Mrs. Deane said a great deal, and said it very sweetly, and the boys got more or less embarrassed, and were heartily glad when she drew Ned to her and kissed him, much to that youth’s distress, and the incident ended in laughter. By noon the shutters were done, and nine industrious amateur painters were swarming over the back of the little house. I’m not going to tell you that the job was done as perfectly as Sprague and Currie, Painters and Paper-hangers, would have done it, but you’re to believe that it was done much quicker and at a far greater saving of money! And when it was finished no one except a professional would ever have known the difference. Perhaps there was more blue and white paint scattered around the landscape than was absolutely necessary, and it always remained a mystery how Antoinette managed to get her right ear looking like a bit of Italian sky, for every one professed ignorance and Antoinette was apparently well protected from spatters. (It took Polly more than a week to restore the rabbit to her original appearance.)
When the early winter twilight fell and it became necessary to knock off work for the day, the blue painting was more than half done and, unless weather prevented, it was certain that the entire task would be finished by to-morrow evening. Mrs. Deane served five-o’clock tea, – only it happened to be four-o’clock tea instead, – and nine very, very hungry lads did full justice to the repast, and the little room behind the store held a merry party. Perhaps the prevailing odor of paint detracted somewhat from Mrs. Deane’s and Polly’s enjoyment of the refreshments, but you may be certain they made no mention of the fact.
That night the boys viewed the cloudy sky apprehensively. Laurie, who knew little about it, declared dubiously that it smelt like snow. But when morning came, although the cloudiness persisted most of the day, the weather remained kindly, with just enough frost in the air to chill feet and nip idle fingers and to give an added zest to labor. Very little time was wasted on luncheon, and at two o’clock the last slap of blue paint had been applied and the more difficult work of doing the white trim began. Fortunately, there were only eleven windows and two doors, and although “drawing” the sashes was slow and finicking work, with nine willing hands hard at it the end came shortly after dusk, when, watched by eight impatient companions, young Haskell, one of the junior class boys, with trembling fingers drew his brush along the last few inches of a front window, and then, because he was quite keyed up and because it was much too dark to see well, celebrated the culmination of his efforts by putting a foot squarely into a can of white paint!