“Maybe we’ll get a chance to practice a bit after lunch. Bring it along, Red.”
The boys started off for Terry Treuhaft’s cottage, only a block from the old Christian Church. Enjoying the soft, balmy air, they scuffed along a river path, between tall trees which rapidly were shedding their bright-hued leaves.
“Swell day for a roast,” Chips said, blinking in the bright sun. “I wish we’d brought some weiners.”
The boys presently came within view of Terry Treuhaft’s white clapboard cottage. The church caretaker, a bent old man with gnarled hands, was building a fence in the back yard. He scarcely glanced up as the boys halted beside him.
Finally as the hammering went on and on, Dan introduced himself and explained the purpose of the call. He told of the organization’s need of ice cream freezers.
“What’s that?” Mr. Treuhaft asked gruffly. “Ice cream at this time of year? Stuff and nonsense! Fiddle Faddle! Why tell me about it anyhow?”
“The Christian Church has some freezers in the basement,” Chips interposed. “Aren’t you the caretaker?”
“So that’s the angle?” Old Terry hammered a nail which went crooked into the board. He uttered an enraged exclamation. “Drat it! Can’t you boys see you’re bothering me? I’m busy as all get-out. I want to finish this fence before sun down.”
“We do need the freezers,” Dan persisted. “Couldn’t you let us have them?”
“I’m busy,” Old Terry repeated between loud bangs of his hammer. “Busy! I’ve no time to go over to the church now. Come back Monday or later in the week and we’ll talk about it.”