"Something sure will happen before night," Jimmy muttered gloomily, as he made his way down to the dining room, from which issued a tempting aroma of bacon. "It's all too good to be true." But then, Jimmy always did feel grumpy before breakfast.
The boys each found his own family as enthusiastic as Doctor Dale had been about the great plan, and Bob's mother even hugged him impulsively as she passed behind his chair. Bob was almost ashamed of the happiness that welled in his heart. Of course a fellow of fifteen was too big to be hugged as a general thing, but, somehow, one's mother was different.
After breakfast he started down town to see about the jitney, met Joe on the way, and the two boys went on together, talking excitedly of their preparations.
"Dad says I can have the big car and the garage man will run it," Joe informed him gleefully. "Gee, I was never so surprised in my life. All he said was 'take it, my son, and Heaven grant you never want it for a worse purpose.' Great old sport, dad is."
"Gee, that's great," said Bob. "Now if we can only find some old bus that looks as if it will stand up for a mile or two, everything will be dandy."
After much kicking of tires and anxious examination, the boys did actually manage to find a Ford machine that promised, with more or less reservations, to do its duty, and, after engaging it with a driver for one-thirty that afternoon, they walked importantly from the shop, much to the amusement of the garage man.
"Fine set of kids," he muttered, shaking his head admiringly as he returned to the machine that he was repairing. "Always full of pep and ginger whenever you see 'em. They'll go a long way, those kids will."
In spite of various gloomy predictions, at one-thirty that afternoon there was still not a cloud in the sky and the breath of the sun smote downward almost as hotly as it would in midsummer.
Gayly the four boys started off in the two cars, eager to pick up the poor shut-ins of their acquaintance and give them the time of their lives.
Their first stop was at the lonely little cottage of Joel Banks, Civil War veteran. His housekeeper let them in, a quaint little woman with pink cheeks and white hair and a spotless white apron tied around her comfortable waist.