“Well, I think you did it beautifully,” said Polly. “I never suspected you’d make so much!”
They were in the little garden behind the shop. It was the second day after the fête, and the bell in the Congregational church tower had just struck two. There was a perceptible nip in the air to-day, and the flowers in the border showed blackened leaves, while the nasturtiums were frankly limp and lifeless. But here in the sunshine it was warm enough, and Laurie, spurning the bench, was seated tailor fashion on the yellowing turf. Polly had stated her absolute certitude that he would catch cold, but Laurie derided the idea.
“We’re awfully much obliged to you girls,” said Ned. “We wouldn’t have done nearly so well if you hadn’t helped. I think the committee ought to give you a—a vote of thanks or something.”
“Oh, we all loved it!” Polly assured him earnestly. “We had heaps of fun. Why, I wouldn’t have missed that disappearing trick for anything. I was positively thrilled when Laurie came running up the garden!”
The boys’ laughter interrupted, and Polly looked puzzled.
“That wasn’t Laurie,” explained Ned. “That was me.”
“But I was sure you were the one in the chair! And if you were in the chair, how could you—”
“I wasn’t, though. That was Laurie.”
Polly sighed despairingly. “I’ll never get so I can tell you apart,” she said; “unless I hear you talk, that is! I don’t see yet how it was done. Won’t you please tell me?”
“It was as easy as easy,” replied Ned. “You see, the way I planned it first—”