CHAPTER XXIV—A MERRY CHRISTMAS
“Guess Laurie got lost,” grumbled Ned, kicking one foot against the step and looking across the yard.
George laughed. “Guess you could find him if you went as far as the Widow’s, Nid.”
“Well, he ought to be back. It’s nearly time for the tree, isn’t it?” Characteristically, Ned saved himself the trouble of determining the matter for himself, and it was George who looked at his watch.
“There’s ’most an hour yet. Let’s go and have a look for him. He and Bob are probably at Polly’s.”
But they didn’t get as far as Polly’s just then, for when they reached the corner they descried Laurie tearing along the side yard of the Coventry place. At sight of them he moderated his speed slightly and began to shout, waving both hands in a quite demented manner.
“What’s he saying?” asked George. “What’s wrong?”
“Wants us to hurry,” grumbled Ned. “We are hurrying, you idiot!” he continued, raising his voice. But he hurried faster, George at his heels, and met Laurie at the front gate.
“What’s your trouble?” he demanded. “House on fire? Bob got the croup? What is it? Can’t you talk?”
“Can’t tell you,” panted Laurie. “You’ve got to see—for yourself! Come on!”