In the mist and darkness no one saw the sign with which the big gate-post at the left had been ornamented. That work of skill and art was destined not to be discovered until the light of morning should disclose its beauty and appropriateness to the passer-by.
The splashing of the water in the fountain on the lawn came musically to the ears of the tired strollers, but no one of them dreamed that the kneeling water-sprite was no longer peering from the rim of the basin into the liquid depth beneath him.
“Well, boys,” said Ben, “I want the rest of you to do just as I’m going to do.”
A shrill voice piped up:
“Do you know what you’re goin’ to do?”
“Sure I do,” replied Ben; “I’m going up to the house and turn in so quick you can’t see me do it.”
“No, you’re not. You’re goin’ with us.”
“Where?”
“Well, you see, we haven’t taken anything off of Jim Perry’s porch yet. We always do that, every Hallowe’en, and if we pass him by this year he’d feel hurt.”
“That’s right!” added another boy. “We’ve got to do it. He’d never get over it if we didn’t. Come on!”