CHAPTER XIX
WHEREIN BLAKEVILLE HAS OPPORTUNITY TO BECOME
A GREAT ART CENTER
The next morning Wallingford requisitioned the services of Bob and the little sorrel team again, and drove out to Jonas Bubble’s swamp. Arrived there he climbed the fence, and, taking a sliver of fence rail with him, gravely prodded into the edge of the swamp in various places, hauling it up in each case dripping with viscid black mud, which he examined with the most minute care, dropping tiny drops upon the backs of clean cards and spreading them out smoothly with the tip of his finger, while he looked up into the sky inquiringly, not one gesture of his conduct lost upon the curious Bob.
When he climbed back into the buggy, Bob, finding it impossible longer to restrain his quivering curiosity, asked him:
“What’s it good for?”
“I can’t tell you just yet,” said Wallingford kindly, “but if it is what I think it is, Bob, I’ve made a great discovery, one that I am sure will not only increase my wealth but add greatly to the riches of Blakeville. Do you know where I could find Jonas Bubble at this hour?”
“Down at the mill, sure.”
“Drive down there.”
As they drove past Jonas Bubble’s house they saw Miss Fannie on the back porch, in an old wrapper, peeling potatoes, and heard the sharp voice of the second Mrs. Bubble scolding her.
“Say,” said Bob, “if that old rip was my stepmother I’d poke her head-first into that swamp back yonder.”