“Carnival? You mean a county fair, I suppose,” interrupted Ned. “Excuse me. I can see all the cattle and mowing machines I want right here at home.”
“I guess your dad must have made you mow the front lawn this morning, eh, Ned?” inquired Jerry with a grin.
“That’s what he did, and it’s no front parlor of a lawn, either. I don’t ever want to see a lawn-mower again. But here comes Bob, all excited over a county fair, where all they have to eat is frankfurters, popcorn and ice cream cones.”
“Oh, is that so?” retorted the stout youth rather indignantly. “Well, if you’re so smart, did you ever hear of a county fair in July, before the crops are in?”
“He’s got you there, Ned,” said Jerry.
“Well, what kind of a carnival is it?” asked the youth who had endeavored to discount Bob’s news. “Why don’t you tell us your story, instead of hemming and hawing around here, like an automobile that’s run out of gasolene and has a spark-plug that’s gone on the fritz? Why don’t you, eh?”
“I will, if you’ll give me a chance. There’s going to be a carnival over at Broadlands and——”
“You said that once before,” reminded Ned.