"Say, Nelson Haley! You got to be mighty smart to keep Janice from finding out every little thing. You know that. And she's always looking for something to happen to Uncle Brocky."
"We can do it. We must do it," responded the schoolmaster.
Marty was round-eyed and unbelieving. "Say! you don't know Janice yet," he repeated with assurance. "She's a mighty smart girl—the smartest girl in the whole of Polktown. Aw—well, you ought to know."
"I don't know how we are to do it—yet," the schoolmaster agreed. "We'll just have to. When people have to do a thing, Marty, they do it nine times out of ten!"
"Hi tunket!" gasped the boy. "You tell me my part and I'll help all right."
"Come on, then. Stroll in naturally. Make believe there is something up—some joke that we are going to keep Janice out of——"
"Joke!" groaned Marty.
"I tell you," commanded Nelson hotly, "we've got to keep this from her. Her father wounded—think of it!"
"Ain't I thinking of it?" put in the boy. "Uncle Brocky—that I never did see since I was a kid too small to remember him."
"Pull yourself together, old man," said the schoolmaster with his arm over the boy's shoulder.