"I don't know. Whoopee, look at the pin-wheel!" Jess cried joyously.
There surely had never been such a box of fireworks. Not in River Bend, at least. There were little tiny flat packages that flared into beautiful geometrical figures that spun and whirled and dazzled for long, breath-taking seconds. There were pieces that folded into a tiny space and yet which, when sent up, proved to be large and elaborate and quite beyond the power of any one to name. The Roman candles shot up to the stars—Polly was positive. The colored fire made the yard a place for fairies. They had never seen such fireworks, the Riddle Club were sure.
"My goodness, how long have you been shooting off things?" demanded Carrie Pepper suddenly, out of the darkness. "Did you see ours? We're all through and we were going in when we saw one of your rockets. Where did you get 'em? I thought you only had a few things."
"Come up on the steps, Carrie," Mrs. Larue called pleasantly. "Mr. Kirby sent the children a box of fireworks. Don't you want to stay and see? We must be nearly through, too."
"Seven more left!" announced Fred triumphantly. "Not counting the surprise."
That settled Carrie. If there was a surprise, she meant to see it. Followed by the thirteen other members of the Conundrum Club, she settled down on the steps of the porch and watched critically.
"Oh! Ah!" said every one, as a flower-pot of great brilliancy and wonderful color spread out before their eyes.
"Oh! Ah!" they said for each successive piece, and the Conundrum Club joined in the chorus of admiration.
"What is the surprise?" Carrie whispered to Polly, as she dashed up to get a new piece of punk.
"I don't know—none of us does," said Polly. "Fred is going to touch it off after we light this next piece."