"I don't believe there's a bit of use in trying," answered Karl. "We've come to the conclusion no end of times that we can't fool Uncle Budge, and we can't. That's all there is about it."
"No harm in trying," ventured the not easily discouraged Rick, thinking how often he had admired the gold dollar on Chan Holmes's watch chain. "Let's try, anyway."
So next April-fools' Day finding them at Uncle Budge's, Karl and Rick were tiptoeing about very early. They spread the Berkville Morning Argus of April 1, 1880—which they had slipped out of Uncle Budge's file the day before—out on the floor, sprinkled some water over it, folded it carefully, and Karl went quietly down stairs, opened the side door, laid the paper there, and took up stairs the Argus that the carrier had just thrown.
About an hour afterward the breakfast-bell rang, and the boys went down stairs. There lay the paper by Uncle Budge's plate, which caused so preternaturally solemn an expression to come over their faces that Aunt Budge was quite worried.
"Now I hope you're not getting homesick," she said to Karl; "I know there's not much goin' on for you, as is used to a large family and a good deal of noise; still"—in a more cheerful tone—"we'll think of something after I've done up my work."
An amused smile played about Rick's lips, to hide which he leaned his head on his hand.
"Your toothache ain't come on again, Richard?" inquired Aunt Budge, sympathetically.
"Oh, I'm all right," said one, while the other assured Aunt Budge that he didn't want to go home a bit, and was having the best sort of a time.
"Uncle Budge has gone over to Wilson's," said Aunt Budge, "but may be in any minute. He left word not to wait breakfast. Can you reach the Argus, Karl?"
"Well, well," began Aunt Budge, "if another of those Wilkinses isn't married! Amanda J. Why, now, I was thinking that Amanda went last year; but no, come to think, it was Alvira. It does seem that just as reg'lar as spring comes round, off one on 'em goes. Now Amanda is—"