“Hello there! my dear fellow,” he called out. “I see Mistress Kite has gone back on you. They are always doing that sort of trick. I had about a hundred when I was your age. I know all about the pesky things. I can doctor it for you.” He left Aaron’s rod by the first tree he came to and went on.
Laurens shied off a little when he saw he was the lad that was with Schwarmer, but Fons paid no attention to the “instinctive dodge,” as he had heard his military professor call it. He marched boldly up, took hold of the kite and began to fix it as though it belonged to him by right of superior knowledge concerning kites. Laurens watched him with that kind of fascination which a young boy invariably feels for an older one, and especially one who has had an experience with so many kites and had so many implements in his pockets to fix and do things with it; for therefrom, during the process he took all sorts of beautifully made instruments, ranging from a gold toothpick to a silver match-box and gave them to him to hold while he was diving into the depths for his sharpest jack-knife. Besides, he had a diamond ring on his finger of dazzling brightness and a little jewelled watch in his vest pocket, which he pulled out to see what time of day it was. After he had fixed the kite and sailed it across the field several times, he stopped short and exclaimed:
“There, it sails beautifully; but I’ve had enough of it! Say, little ‘Can’t tell a lie.’ I should think you’d be awful tired of the kite business. I quit it long before I was as old as you are. Why don’t you play with something more patriotic—something like what George Washington used to lick the English with? I don’t blame you though for not wanting Schwarmer’s cheep truck; I’ve got some things that I brought from the city—things that I helped make for our school celebration. They are daisies! stars and stripes of just the right color! Come on and I’ll show you one. I’m going to have a picnic down by the river this afternoon.”
“I’m afraid mamma wouldn’t like to have me go out of the field.”
“O you needn’t be afraid. It’s liberty day. She won’t care, take my word for it. I’m older than you. Come on, you’ll never have another chance to see my prettiest piece. I haven’t but one left and when it’s once let off there’s an end of it; there it is leaning against the tree. Aaron’s rod, I call it. Your Sunday school teacher has told you about Aaron’s wonderful rod. Come and see how you like its namesake.”
Fons started off with the kite in hand and Laurens still had the beautiful implements.
“Come on,” shouted Fons, seizing Aaron’s rod and swinging it gayly. “Catch me if you can.”
It was a lively chase. Over the fence, across the road and down the steep bank! When they stopped they were side by side and both were laughing. They had enjoyed the race.
“Now,” said Fons, “we are here and if you don’t want to see my patriotic piece you will have to shut your eyes.”
Laurens opened his eyes still wider instead of shutting them, for Fons began to show off at once. It was a very pretty show. The place was in deep shadow and the effect was almost as vivid as it would have been at night.