Yet under the outward calm there was a vague uneasiness, and a strange restlessness was apparent among the boys, which at times infected even the older members of the Treat household. All this was proven conclusively because Billy Whiskers and his gaily-painted cart were neglected, and catalogs had held much more interest than outdoor sports for the last week or more.
But such a condition of things could not last very long. One fine afternoon when the sun was casting long, slanting rays across the fields, and there was the soft haziness of first October days in the air, Tom, Dick and Harry were passing the Corners on their way home from school when the postmaster, a genial old fellow, hailed them from his seat on a cracker barrel in front of the store.
“Here, boys, wait a minute. There’s a postal for your father, and the new automobile is a-comin’, all right, all right!”
“Hooray!” shouted Tom, as he leaped up the steps.
“Hur-rah!” exulted Harry, a close second.
“Hur-rah,” echoed Dick, as he was dragged along, for the smallest of the Treat boys tugged at Harry’s hand, determined to be on the scene with his older brothers.
Three pairs of eager hands reached through the narrow little window of the board partition which served to divide the post-office from the general store, but agile Tom secured the coveted prize and was away, out of the store and off up the dusty road like a flash.
“Father, father, look here!” breathlessly shouted the trio, as they turned into the yard and drew up at the front porch steps.
Father and Mother Treat hurried to the veranda to learn the cause of all this wild commotion, and their faces wreathed in smiles at the welcome news that the auto was on its way.