But grandpa insisted on looking, and, lo and behold! when he put in his hand, ruffled up Ted’s hair and drew out his fingers again, there, between them, was a shining quarter!
“Oh!” gasped Jan.
“Why—why——” stammered her brother, in great surprise.
“Oh, Grandpa Martin! you just put your hand in your pocket now, took out a quarter and had it in your hand when you ruffled up Ted’s hair!” cried Jan, as she guessed how the trick was done. “Didn’t you?”
“Well, I did lose a quarter last year,” said grandpa. “I thought maybe it might be in Ted’s hair, and—well, here it is!”
But grandpa had played that little trick, as you would have guessed, too, if you had seen him.
“I wish you could get a goat wagon out of my hair,” sighed Jan. “We want one awful bad.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” promised her grandfather, and a few days later the Curlytops were told some joyful news.
Asking among the different farmers he knew, Grandpa Martin heard of one whose little boy, now grown to be a man, had once owned a fine goat wagon. It was stored away in a distant barn, and Daddy Martin said he would buy it for the Curlytops.
So one day Grandpa Martin hitched the horses to a big farm wagon, and away he and the Curlytops rode, over the hills and far away, to another farm.