“Serves us right,” said the woman disgustedly. “I wish we’d never heard of Tuxall and his line of bunk.”
“Mystification upon mystification!” cried the clergyman. “Will some one please give a clue to the maze?”
“In a word,” said Average Jones. “The Harwick meteor.”
“What connection—”
“Pardon me, one moment. The ‘live thing’ in the tree was a captive balloon. The box on the ground was a battery. The wire from the battery was connected with a firework bomb, which, when Tuxall pressed the switch, exploded, releasing a flaming ‘dropper.’ About the time the ‘dropper’ reached the earth Tuxall lighted up his well-oiled barn. All Harwick, having had its attention attracted by the explosion, and seen the portent with its own eyes, believed that a huge meteor had fired the building. So Tuxall and Company had a well attested wonder from the heavens. That’s the little plan which Bailey’s presence threatened to wreck. Is it your opinion that the stars are inhabited, Prentice?”
“What!” cried the minister, gaping.
“Stars—inhabited—living, sentient creatures.”
“How should I know!”
“You’d be interested to know, though, wouldn’t you?”
“Why, certainly. Any one would.”