"How suspicious you are, Jerry," mourned Lark.
"I wish we were that way, instead of innocent and bland and trustful. Maybe we would get rich, too. This is the first time I ever really understood how you came to be a success in business."
"But you are quite wrong this time," said Lark seriously. "Old Mr. Avery gave me this rope."
"Yes, he did! Lark told him she was looking for a rope just exactly like this one, and then he gave it to her. He caught the idea of philanthropy right away. He's a very nice old gentleman, I tell you. He's so trusting and unsuspicious. I'm very fond of people like that."
"We thought when you had the board nicely nailed on, you might rope it securely to the limbs above. They are in very good position, and that will make it absolutely safe. Do you suppose you can do that, Jerry? Do you get seasick when you climb high?"
"Oh, no, high altitudes never make me seasick. I've a very good head for such purposes."
"Then suppose you get busy before it grows dark. We're in a great hurry. And we do not want Connie to catch us putting it up. It'll be such fun to sit up there and swing when the wind blows, and have poor Connie down beneath wondering how we manage to stick on. She can't see the seat from the ground. Won't it be a good joke on her?"
"Oh, very,—-yes, indeed.—Well, let's begin.—Now, observe! I will just loop this end of the rope lightly about my—er—middle. The other end will dangle on the ground to be drawn up at will. Observe also that I bestow the good but rusty nails in this pocket, and the hammer here. Then with the admirable board beneath my arm, I mount to the heights of—Say, twins, didn't I see an old buggy seat out in the barn to-day? Seems to me——"
"Oh, Jerry!" The twins fairly smothered him. "Oh, you darling. You are the nicest old thing.—Now we can understand why Prudence seems to like you. We never once thought of the old buggy seat! Oh, Jerry!"
Then they hastily brought the discarded seat from the barn, and with the help of Jerry it was shoved up on the woodshed. From there, he lifted it to the lowest limb of the old maple, and a second later he was up himself. Then it was lifted again, and again he followed,—up, and up, and up,—the loose end of the donated rope trailing loose on the ground below. The twins promptly,—as promptly as possible, that is,—followed him into the tree.