This was an interesting bit of information!
All of us were instantly filled with a desire to follow in the footsteps of the great. Here was the tree, and here was the bark. But the coins were lacking. The only one we had possessed that afternoon had gone for peppermint lozenges. Fourth of July money must not be touched. Perhaps, however, a special appeal to the authorities would be successful. We agreed to make application to the lords of the treasuries, and each to come to-morrow provided with a cent.
The agreement was kept, and the following morning saw us at work on the bark of the apple tree. Three incisions were made (each one working at that part of the branch nearest his initials) and three copper cents were duly deposited. Then we descended the tree, and left our treasure to the silent years.
"How long do you suppose it will take the bark to grow over them?" inquired Ed Mason.
"Oh, I don't know. Years and years. Washington, or whoever it was, didn't come back till he was an old man."
"Well, then, we ought not. They ought to be left there for sixty or seventy years, anyhow."
It was unanimously agreed that not less than seventy years must elapse before the coins should be disturbed.
We wandered out of the garden, down the street, and through the grounds of the Universalist Church. Drippings from the eaves of that building had unearthed hundreds of pebbles, and Ed Mason began selecting round ones for his sling-shot. Then he took that instrument out of his pocket and discharged the pebbles at a distant fence. But the sling-shot worked indifferently, and Ed pronounced the elastic worn out.
"You can get a dandy piece for a cent down at Higginson's," I observed.