“Good-by, Aunt Polly,” said Tom, as the excited little old lady went briskly up the car steps.
Pausing, she bent over and gave him a kiss on the mouth. Then her forehead puckered.
“There was something else I wanted to tell you,” she said, thoughtful-like, “but it’s plumb slipped my mind.”
“All aboard!” called the conductor.
“Oh, yes,” screeched Aunt Polly, as the train got into motion, “it’s my rubber plant. Water it every day and put dish water on it once a week and——”
In the silence that followed the train’s departure, Tom grinned at us and drew a deep breath.
“She forgot to tell me to keep the ice box door closed and not to let the cat sleep on the parlor sofa.”
Then he sobered.
“But Aunt Polly’s all right. And I don’t want you to think that I’m making fun of her. Ginks! I’ll miss her like sixty. And I’ll be glad when this patent office business is over with so that she and Pa can be home again.”
As we turned to leave the station the Stricker gang scooted by us. We haven’t any time for the Strickers. Bid and Jimmy are cousins and one is [[29]]just as mean and as tricky as the other. That part of Tutter beyond Dad’s brickyard is called Zulutown, and it is in this tough neighborhood that the Strickers and their followers have their homes. Because we won’t do the mean things they do they have it in for us.