"Hoo-ray for to-morrow morning!"
"Hoo-ray for sunrise!"
"Hoo-ray for Jot!" finished Kent, generously forgetting mockeries.
The plan promised gloriously. When father and mother came home from the mill they fell in with it heartily, and mother rolled up her sleeves at once to make cakes to fill the boys' bundle racks. They would buy other things as they went along—that would be part of the fun.
In the middle of the night Jot got out of bed softly and padded his way across to the bureau, to feel of the three five-dollar bills they had left together under the pincushion for a paper weight. He slid his fingers under carefully. What! He lifted the cushion. Then he struck a match—two matches—three, in agitated succession.
The money was gone!
CHAPTER II.
Jot gasped with horror. The last match went out and left him standing there in the dark. After one instant's hesitation he made a bound for the bed. "Kent! Kent! Wake up!" he whispered shrilly. He shook the limp figure hard.
"Thieves! Murder! Wake up, I tell you, Kent! We're robbed!"
"M-m—who's rob—Oh, say, lemme alone!" murmured poor Kent, drowsily.