“That’s mighty decent, Hal; and you’re a regular brick. But it don’t go down with me. We’ll cut the rest of the fellows out and you and me’ll share the consekences. We’ll go fifty-fifty on it.”
“No; you don’t have to do that, Slicker.”
“I know I don’t; but I’m goin’ to. It’s settled. Come on!”
He took hold of one side of the cross-piece of the handle of the wagon and motioned to his companion to take hold of the other side. Hal knew that when Slicker had made up his mind to do a thing there was no turning him. So he acquiesced in the plan. And together the two boys dragged their unlovely load toward its destination.
Two blocks farther on they met Hal’s aunt, Miss Sarah Halpert, a lady approaching middle age, of decided opinions about persons and things, prominent in the civic and social life of the city, keen in intellect, quick in resourcefulness.
Hal would not, at this moment, have willingly come in contact with her. When he saw her approaching he looked about for some means of escape, but they were in the middle of a block, and the meeting was inevitable.
“What’s all this about?” she inquired as she came up to them. “Are you boys returning stolen goods this morning?”
“That’s about it, Aunt Sarah,” replied Hal.
“Well,” she continued, “if I’d caught the little rascals that left a load of turnips in my front yard last night, they’d have thought the day of judgment had come, sure enough. Who’s this other boy? What’s your name, young man?” Then, before the “other boy” could reply, she answered her own question. “Oh, you’re Slicker. You’re the boy that fastened a tick-tack on Jerry Minahan’s window, aren’t you?”
Slicker colored a little and acknowledged that he had committed the offense named.