“Most of them have forgotten about it, I guess,” said Gordon. “Here he comes!”
Five minutes later the wagon with its mysteriously hidden load was backed to the steps and the driver and Owen, assisted by the two boys, were carrying the load inside. They worked quickly and silently, and in a very few minutes the wagon was empty and they were removing the wrappings from the articles. At this task all took a hand and the hallway was soon littered with burlaps and excelsior and paper. Then, tiptoeing like the conspirators they felt themselves to be, they descended on the office. One of the lights was lighted and turned low, the shades were drawn and they began to move the old furniture out into the hall, from where, later, when the Principal had rescued his papers and books it was to be taken to the basement. When the carpet was up Owen applied the broom diligently. Then the refurnishing began. The new carpet, a deep-toned brown with a brown and blue border, made to fit the floor exactly from measurements taken by Miss Turner, was put in place and the big desk was set in the middle. As each piece was brought in Louise and Nell attacked it energetically with dust-clothes. The swivel-chair was put in front of the desk, the leather easy-chair—well, if it wasn’t exactly real leather it looked just like it and the distinguished salesman had given his solemn word of honor that it would wear even better than leather—was set by the windows, the filing-cabinet was set against the wall, the straight-backed chair went by the door and the new wastebasket, for fear it would not be seen, was put beside the desk rather than under it. Then books, writing pad, ink-well and such things were put in place and, finally, for just a minute, the light was turned on full that they might all see the transformation at its best.
“Doesn’t everything look lovely!” breathed Nell rapturously.
“You’d never know it was the same room!” said Louise. “Isn’t the desk beautiful, Gordon?”
“Peachy! Everything is. I’m crazy about the rug. It will be a real privilege now to get ‘called in’ by Mr. Grayson!”
“They’re fine things, they are,” declared Owen, admiringly, as he wiped off a speck of dust with the sleeve of his coat, “and it’s proud he’ll be in the mornin’!”
“An’ there ain’t a scratch on anyone of ’em,” said the driver of the wagon. “I seen to that, boys.”
“Er—yes,” murmured Morris, directing an inquiring look at Louise. Louise nodded vehemently and a half-dollar changed hands. “Thank you kindly, sir,” said the driver. “Is that all I can do for you?”
“That’s all, thanks,” replied Louise. “Please tell Mr. Stuart we are very much obliged to him for doing everything so nicely.” The man took his departure and the others, although loath to do so, took a final look at the new splendor, turned out the light, locked the door and departed. Owen was presented with a crisp dollar bill before they left, however, and proceeded with his task of clearing up most cheerfully. Still elatedly discussing the success of the conspiracy, they made their way to Miss Turner’s, nearby, left the key and started homeward along Troutman Street. But at G Street Morris called a halt.
“It’s only a quarter to eleven,” he said, “and Castle’s is still open. What do you say if we walk over there and celebrate?”