“A peach!” declared the twin brother. “You can go to sleep on it standing up.”
“What’s this fellow’s name?” asked Phil, quickly.
“Rosenkranz,” replied Jerry. “But he hasn’t got any more sofas. We bought the last one.”
“Has he any chairs?” inquired Sid.
“A raft of them.”
“And his place is in Rosedale, and not Rosevale?” spoke Tom.
“That’s it,” the Jersey twin asserted. “The two places are in opposite directions. I guess we ought to know. Joe and I were out on a walk one day, and we saw the sofa in his window. He has his shop in one side of his house—a queer old place with a lot of Russian brasses. He had one samovar that was a pippin, but he wanted eight dollars for it, and the sofa broke us.”
“Fellows!” cried Tom, excitedly, “I believe we are on the right track at last!”
“Track of what?” demanded Jerry.