“All right; remember that,” said Willard. “Hustle along now; we’re going to lock up!”
“Lock up!” exclaimed Jimmy with a wicked grin. “Great shakes! You don’t think anyone’s going to steal it, do you?”
The visitors thought of a great many other gibes before they finally dispersed, leaving Tom and Willard in sole possession of the front steps. Long after he was out of sight under the trees that lined the street they could hear Jimmy Lippit imitating the wheezy horn on which he had performed so busily.
The two boys said nothing for a space. Then Willard broke the silence.
“Well, we got it, Tom,” he said.
Tom nodded. “It—it didn’t look quite so bunged-up when it was in Saunders’, did it?”
“No.” Willard pulled a twig from the honeysuckle vine and sniffed it thoughtfully. “I say, Tom.”
“Yep?”
“We—we’re putting an awful lot of money into this. Suppose we didn’t make it go!”