Ned and Hoop and The Fungus came back in time for dinner rather tired of body but undismayed of spirit. They brought a new assortment of “genuine” arrowheads and many highly colored post-cards. And The Fungus had purchased a photograph frame fashioned of wood with views of Indian Head on it. This, he stated, he meant to give to someone at Christmas. He was rather vague as to the identity of the future recipient and Spud got alarmed and announced carelessly that personally he didn’t care for Christmas presents. “Of course it’s a perfectly good photograph frame, Fungus, and all that. And it looks quite expensive, too. I suppose you had to give as much as five cents for it.”
“You run away and play,” answered The Fungus indignantly. “It cost fifty cents, didn’t it, Ned?”
“Really?” exclaimed Spud. “I don’t see[218] how they can sell them for that!” An ambiguous remark that caused The Fungus much speculation.
The trio were full of their trip and took turns narrating their adventures during dinner until at last Sandy voiced the sentiment of the rest of the company.
“Write it out, Hoop,” he said wearily, “and send it to Copenhagen. You talk so much about it I don’t believe you ever got to Indian Head.”
“That’s right, don’t give it all to us now, Hoop,” said Dutch. “Keep it and deliver a lecture in the Town Hall. I thought you were going along, Cal.”
“I was, but—I changed my mind. I cal’late my discoveries are more important than theirs,” he added meaningly.
“Discoveries?” asked Sandy. “What about?”
“I’ll tell you after dinner.”
“Something I mustn’t hear,” said Mrs. Linn good-naturedly. “I suppose you’ve been in mischief.”
“What I admire about you, Marm,” said Sandy with a laugh, “is your—your—what’s the word, Ned; acumen?”
[219]
“Marm never wears one,” said Spud gravely.
On the porch later Cal told them what he had learned that morning from Miss Molly Elizabeth Curtis. Sandy was inclined to be severe with the young lady, but the rest, especially Spud, thought it was an excellent joke.
“She must be a smart kid,” Spud asserted. “And plucky, too. Think of her climbing down a water-spout!”
“It wasn’t a water-spout, it was a rain-spout,” corrected Dutch.
“Oh, what’s the difference?”
“Lots. Rain-spouts are on houses and water-spouts are in Captain Marryat’s stories.”
“Just the same,” said Dutch, “I don’t like her having that pillow-case. Won’t she hand it over, Cal?”
“No, she won’t. She says she’s—she’s going to—to hold it over us.”
“Do what?” asked Sandy, puzzled.
“Why, keep it and make us do what she wants.”
“Well, what—do you—think—of that?” gasped The Fungus.
[220]
“Someone ought to box her ears!” declared Sandy indignantly.
“You might suggest it to Miss Matilda,” laughed Spud. “I think she needs it myself. Just the same, she’s a smart kid!”
“I don’t believe she would tell on us,” hazarded Clara anxiously.
“I’m sure she wouldn’t,” agreed Cal. “Still, I cal—I guess we’d better be sort of decent to her.”
“But what does she want?” asked Sandy frowningly.
“Well, she wants to learn to play tennis, for one thing,” Cal replied. “And she says she wants to see a football game.”
“Wants to come over here and play tennis?” gasped Hoop. “She certainly has nerve! Who’s going to teach her, Cal, you?”
“No, I told her I didn’t play. I guess it’s up to you, Hoop.”
The others laughed, but Hoop waxed wroth. “I guess I see myself teaching a girl to play tennis!” he said. “If she comes over here once she’ll be always tagging around. Girls are beastly bothers.”
“But you’re just as much in it as we are,”[221] said Spud gravely. “And if she wants you to teach her I guess you’d better, Hoop.”
“She didn’t say anything about me,” cried Hoop. “She doesn’t know me.”
“Ah, but she wants to, probably. She admires your manly beauty, Hoop. I move that Hoop be appointed to teach her tennis. All in favor will so signify.”
“Aye!” The vote was unanimous.
“Oh, cut it out!” growled Hoop. “I don’t play well enough, anyway. Sandy or Ned ought to teach her if anybody’s got to.”
“We’ll put on the finishing touches, after you’ve taught her the rudiments,” said Ned kindly. “As to football, why, I guess that’s where Clara comes in. As he doesn’t play he will make a nice guide for the girl. All in favor—”
“Aye!”
Clara looked worried but said nothing.
“She’s as pretty as a picture, Clara,” said Spud. “Wish I were you!”
“You can take my place if you want to,” said Clara eagerly.
“Yes, but you see I have to play,” Spud answered hurriedly, while the others laughed.[222] “Is there—is there any other little thing we can do for her, Cal?”
“Not that I know of—yet. I cal’late she’ll think of something, though,” he added gloomily.
“It’s perfect nonsense,” declared Sandy, “but I don’t see what else we can do. We’ll just have to—to humor her and get on the right side of her until she gives up that old pillow-case.”
“Even if she did,” said Dutch, “she could tell on us any time she got mad.”
“Let her! She wouldn’t have any proof then. Ned, you’re a diplomat. Suppose you make it your life’s work to recover that silly old pillow-case.”
“Oh, all right. Me for the diplomatic service. When do we get a look at this lady friend of yours, Cal?”
“I don’t know. You see her aunts don’t want her to have anything to do with us, and maybe—”
“Hooray!” shouted The Fungus. “That’s our only hope, fellows. Let’s go over and break a few windows so Miss Matilda will hate us worse than ever.”
“Or we might write an anonymous letter to[223] her telling how depraved we all are,” suggested Spud.
“She says we’re varmints,” said Cal.
“Did she say that?” demanded Spud. “Now I will bust a window for her.” And he took up a tennis racket and made as though to hurl it over the hedge in the direction of the Curtis house.
“Honest to goodness, fellows, there’s something in that,” said Dutch thoughtfully. “If we could only convince the Old Maids that we are really desperate characters it’s a sure thing that she wouldn’t let that obnoxious kid come anywhere near us.”
“But how shall we do it?” asked Sandy.
“I don’t know. We’ll think it over.”
“Yes, but suppose the Obnoxious Kid—which is a perfectly good name for her—gets huffy because she can’t learn to play tennis and see the football games and goes and shows that pillow-case to the Old Maids?” asked Sandy.
“I don’t believe,” answered Spud, “that she would do it anyway. I’ll bet she wouldn’t want them to know that she’d shinned down a water—I mean rain-spout any more than we’d[224] want them to know that we’d been over helping ourselves to their apples.”
“That’s so,” said Sandy. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
“Well, I wouldn’t think too much of it now,” said The Fungus dryly. “That girl is the original trouble maker and I’ll bet she’d go to prison if she could get us into a fix. Girls are always making trouble, anyway. The best thing we can do is to keep her away at any cost. I think we ought to do something awful and see that the Old Maids hear about it.”
“Let us hear from the Diplomatist,” suggested Sandy.
“The Diplomatist agrees,” answered Ned. “Let&rsquo............