"We'll open the window, and watch him down the street."
"Sh—sh! How the Putnams will stare!"
A suppressed giggle followed.
The shutting of the front door was a signal for the boys to rush wildly out of the hall closet into the dining-room, where Aunt Budge was hovering over the breakfast dishes.
"What is it?" cried Aunt Budge, putting on her glasses. "Oh, what red faces! Did you get shut in?"
"We're fooling Uncle Budge," said Rick, breathlessly. "He promised us each a gold piece if we could," and he dashed up stairs after Karl.
They raised the windows cautiously, but not too quietly for Uncle Budge. He heard, but did not look up, though he began to feel a little ill at ease; and no less so when the milkman, who was dashing away from the Putnams', reined in his horses very noticeably, nudged the small boy on the side of the wagon, and both looked curiously at him.
Mr. Budgett walked a few steps, then looked furtively behind him. Imagine his feelings at discovering that the milkman had stopped his horses, and that the small boy was running quietly after him, but stopped as he noticed Mr. Budgett glance around.
"There certainly is something wrong," decided Mr. Budgett; "though I didn't think those little rascals would make a spectacle of me. As I live, their heads are out of the window yet. And look at the Putnams!" he exclaimed, aloud.
Well might he stop in surprise. There was Mrs. Putnam standing in the library window, with Abby and Sarah on tiptoe beside her; the two boys at a large upper window, poking each other and giggling audibly; Mr. Putnam at a third, apparently consulting a thermometer, but looking across at Mr. Budgett as though he possessed far more interest for him than any degree on the indicator; and lastly, Jane and Bridget on the side stoop, gazing as though he were a candidate for Barnum's.