"Well," said Ned, growing a little red in the face, "I don't care. It's no invention of mine, anyway. It was all your idea, Fay."
"Oh, was it?" said Phaeton. "When I heard you talk to Jack-in-the-Box about it, I began to think it was all yours."
"If I was going to make an invention," said Ned, "I'd make one that would work—something practical."
"All right," said Phaeton; "you're at liberty to do so if you wish. I should be glad if you would."
"Well, I will," said Ned. "I'll make one to beat yours all hollow."
Three or four days afterward, Ned came to me with a look on his face that showed he had something important in his mind.
"Can you go?" said he, almost in a whisper.
"That depends on where you're going," said I.
"To see Jack-in-the-Box," said he.
"Yes, I always like to go to the Box," said I. "But I've got to split these kindlings first."