"Me chase it!" howled Sube angrily. "Well, I won't! You didn't try to stop it at all!"
"I'm glad it ain't my ball," remarked Gizzard with an affected lack of interest.
"It don't make any diff whose ball it is!" Sube glowered over his reclining chum. "You'll go and get that ball or I'll—"
"Hi, fellers! I've earned twenty cents already this morning!" came a voice from behind them.
This was from Biscuit Westfall, who had just emerged from the parsonage tugging a long set of quilting-frames.
"Throw in that ball, will you, Biscuit?" called Gizzard pleasantly. "It's right by the big elm tree."
Biscuit laid down his burden and complied with the request. Cordial relations were instantly restored.
"Gee! But there's go'n'ta be an ever-glorious bonfire to-night," Sube observed. "The kids have got two sheds back of the Gibson Block jus' cram-full of boxes and barrels—"
"Yes, but there ain't go'n'ta be no bells rung!" was Gizzard's discouraging interjection.
"Why not, ain't there?" demanded Sube.