“I know a fine trick that a lot of husky chaps like you and Bob White and your gang could play on another fellow,” said Somebody.
“What is it?” asked Billy. “We’re game for almost anything that you could suggest.”
“Old Grandsire Johnson, who lives all alone in that little house at the edge of town, has just had his winter’s coal delivered,” said Somebody. “I think it would be fine if the Hallowe’en spirits would go up there while he is at prayer meeting tonight and put it all in the shed for him.”
“Oh, fine,” said the boy named Billy. “I know a bunch of healthy spooks that would just love a little job like that.”
About Wolves
“LOOK at this funny old pair of curly-toed skates that I found in that funny old horse-hair trunk in the attic,” said the boy named Billy. “They look like toys, and seem about big enough for little sister. Nobody ever could have really used them to skate with, could they?”
“Those skates were your great-grandmother Ellen’s racing skates,” said Somebody, “and if they had not been rather practical and not at all the toys they look, in comparison with the ones in use now, you would not be here this afternoon.”
“Why?” demanded the boy named Billy, sensing a story.