CHAPTER IV
THE HUNDREDTH QUESTION
It was the very last day of March. The next day Patty must send in her answers to the hundred puzzles, and she still had four of them unsolved. She had worked on these all day, and her brain was weary. Kenneth came in late in the afternoon, but he couldn’t help, as he had no knack for puzzles.
“I don’t like them, Patty,” he declared. “You see acrostics have cross words to them, and cross words always irritate me. I like kind words.”
“All right, Ken,” said Patty, laughing; “I’ll invent a new kind of acrostic that has only kind words in it, some day. But can’t you help me with this one? A train of six cars is to be pulled up a steep incline. The engine provided can pull only three cars. Another engine of equal power is brought and put behind the train, to push it up the hill. The two engines, working together, get the train uphill. Supposing the cars coupled with chains, are the chains taut, or hanging loosely? I’ve puzzled over that for hours. You see, half the weight of the train is pulled and half is pushed, so how do those stupid chains know whether they’re to hang loose, or pull taut?”
“H’m,” said Kenneth, “there must be an answer to that. Where’s your Van Reypen satellite? Can’t he do it?”
“You needn’t speak of Mr. Van Reypen in that tone,” said Patty, annoyed; “he’s helped me a lot more than you have!”
“There, there, Patsy, don’t be an acrostic! Don’t give cross words to your poor old chum, who lives but for to please you.”
Patty laughed at Kenneth’s mock tragic tones, but she went on:
“I do think you might do one for me, Ken. You haven’t even tried.”