“Pshaw, it isn’t worth while! What’s two dollars?”
“Well, it’s almost as much as we started business with,” replied Tom dryly. “The firm paid for my license and it ought to pay for yours. To-morrow we’ll get an application and fill it out. Now let’s get out somewhere where it’s cool. That gas makes it hotter than the dickens in here.”
They locked up and, together, Willard carrying his books and papers, sauntered down the street and crossed to Logan Court, pausing at the corner a moment to further infuriate the setter puppy. From the blind end of the court it was possible to sneak through the Widow Thomas’ side yard, scale a fence, and drop into the Willard premises. Mrs. Thomas, however, objected to such proceedings, and so it was incumbent on them to proceed cautiously, a fact which lent the thing quite a glamour of adventure. To add to their difficulties, the widow was entertaining friends on the front porch and they had to duck behind the lilac hedge as they passed and then slip quietly through the side gate. All went well until Tom, confused by the black shadows on the ground, walked into a hose-reel. His cry of surprise was loud enough to be heard on the porch and they had just time to dodge into the dark shrubbery along the fence before the sound of scraping chairs told them that the widow and her friends were investigating. Behind the shrubbery they waited, doubled up with laughter. Finally, quite distinctly across the yard, came the widow’s voice: “I guess it’s that Morris boy,” she said resignedly. “He seems to think my place is a public highway. I’m going to speak to his father about him the first thing in the morning.”
“You’ll get it,” whispered Tom, laughingly.
“She always says that,” Willard replied, “and never does it. Come on; they’ve gone back.”
They emerged from the shadows and went further along, until they were opposite the Morris’ back-yard. Then a hard scramble over a high board fence and they were safe. Unfortunately, though, Willard dropped his book and it took them several minutes to rescue the papers from among the currant bushes. In celebration of the fine showing of the company, Grace Morris was called on to prepare lemonade, and the three sat on the porch in the moonlight and sipped the cooling beverage and nibbled cookies until long after their proper bedtime.
CHAPTER XIX
MR. DUFF GIVES NOTICE
A few days later Willard received his license to operate the automobile and for the next fortnight the affairs of the company went swimmingly. Then one morning Mr. Duff informed them in his dreamy, detached way that he wouldn’t be able to handle any more baggage for them.
“Connors was to see me last night and said as how I was interferin’ with his business,” explained the expressman. “So I guess I won’t be workin’ any more for you.”