“And I ought to have one, too,” said Jerry.
“You came away before the letter carrier arrived,” went on Ned. “Maybe you’d better go see. It might—it might be a mistake—or a joke.”
“Don’t say that!” exclaimed Bob. “I’m going to see if I have a letter like yours.”
“So am I,” decided Jerry. “It might, as you say, Ned, be a joke, though it looks genuine.”
To make sure, Jerry and Bob hurried to their homes. There they found awaiting them circulars, similar to the one Ned had. To further convince them, as Jerry and Bob were returning to Ned’s house, they met Andy Rush, a small chap, but as full of life as an electric battery.
“Hello!” he exclaimed—“Great news—no school—boiler busted—thousands of teachers killed—great calamity—fine—horrible—terrible—don’t have to study—longer vacation—steam pipes blown out—clouds of steam—no heat—freeze up—burn to death—great—Whoope-e-e!”
“Did you ever take anything for that?” asked Jerry calmly, when Andy had finished.
“Dasn’t! if I did I’d blow up! But say—it’s great, isn’t it? Did you get a circular too?” and Andy showed one. “It’s fearful—terrible—no school—”
“Come on,” urged Jerry to Bob. “He’ll give us nervous prostration if we listen to him any longer,” but they need not have hurried, for Andy, so full of news that he could not keep still, had rushed off down the street, hopping, skipping and jumping, to spread the tidings, which nearly every Academy pupil in Cresville knew by that time.
Now the motor boys could discuss a Californian trip in earnest, for they knew their parents would let them go, especially after Mr. Seabury’s invitation, and the letter from Professor Snodgrass. In the course of a few days Jerry received another missive from Nellie Seabury.