“Just a few turns will be enough, Dave,” were Ned’s reassuring words, as he pressed the axe upon the stone.
“Oh, that’ll be all right,” replied Wilbur. “One good turn deserves another, you know, but say, before I forget it, who’s your new neighbor?”
“Neighbor?” repeated Ned. “What neighbor?”
“Moving in next door,” explained Wilbur as he leaned back comfortably against the tree trunk and inserted a clean straw in the corner of his mouth.
Ned laid down the axe and stepped quickly to the fence which divided his back-yard from the property beyond. “I guess you’re right, Dave,” he remarked after a brief scrutiny. “There’s a big furniture van unloading, and the stuff is piled all over the sidewalk. There’s a young chap lugging it into the yard.”
“Yeah, I noticed him as I came along,” explained Wilbur. “I was just going to stop and give the young fellow a hand when I happened to think maybe you would want to be in on it—you and Fatty.”
“It’s mighty nice of you not to hog the job all by yourself, Dave,” laughed Ned, “but let’s see what’s going on,” and slipping his arms into the sleeves of a thin linen coat, he led the way toward the front of the house.
The furniture van had deposited its load and turned away toward the railroad station for a second installment. A slim, wiry lad about seventeen years of age was carrying the lighter articles into the house.
“Now’s your chance, Weary,” chuckled Tommy Beals. “Hop to it and rustle that piano up the front steps!”
“Here comes Dan Slade,” announced Ned. “I wonder just how much help he’ll offer.”