"Is he sick?" asked Polly quickly.
"Oh, dear no, not sick! Didn't you hear?" Miss Allen returned. "His pistol exploded—just before I was starting for the exercises—and he has some painful powder burns."
"It won't kill him, will it?" Margy said fearfully, while the others stared.
"Mercy no," the nurse answered vigorously. "He's lucky to get off as lightly as he has, though. The pistol was old and a cheap affair, and he should never have been allowed to touch it. His right hand is burned, but not deeply. Doctor Mains says he'll be all right in a few weeks."
She went on and the Riddle Club members continued their walk, a little sobered by the news.
"Do you suppose Joe really did mean to set off the fireworks?" asked Artie seriously.
"I do," Fred announced promptly. "But I don't see any sense in going all around town, spouting that. I wouldn't be surprised to hear it was a nice little plan, made up by some one who told him how to go about it. Joe isn't very good when it comes to having ideas of his own."
"I'll bet he means Carrie Pepper suggested that," said Jess to herself.
But she forgot Carrie and the burned fireworks when they reached home and found that Mrs. Williamson had invited the Riddle Club to a porch supper. It was served on the big front porch and was exactly like a picnic except, as Ward put it, you did not have to go anywhere.
"Where'll we set off our fireworks?" asked Fred, munching his fourth peanut butter sandwich.