The sun was blazing down over them, but the boys and girls scarcely felt its rays. Margy knelt on the gravel walk and held her breath while she touched the firecracker with a long piece of punk, clapped the tin can over it, and dashed back to the grass.
The can trembled violently—and fell over.
"Yours went up!" complained Margy. "Why didn't mine go up, Fred?"
"Practice," her brother returned, but Polly laughed.
"He put more crackers under it, of course," she said. "Look, Margy—this is the way."
And Polly deftly placed a mound of half a dozen crackers under the can, touched a fuse with her lighted punk, and let the can slip over the sputtering pile.
Bang! the can shot to a gratifying height and Margy gazed at her friend with respect.
"I can do that," she declared. "Let me try it."
So Margy tried again, and then Jess, and finally they all tired of shooting off firecrackers under a can and turned their attention to something else.