Uncle Budge turned abruptly, and went home.
"Polly, what's the matter with me?" he asked, walking into the dining-room, where Aunt Budge was drying her coffee-caps. "All Berkville is agog."
"Berkville agog!" cried Aunt Budge, inspecting Mr. Budgett critically. "I'm sure I don't know over what. However, the boys are up to something, for they said as much."
"Of course they are," agreed Uncle Budge; "but can't you take it off, Polly? It's on my back, I guess."
"Something alive!" screamed Aunt Budge. "Why don't you shake yourself, Jacob?"
Uncle Budge laughed heartily.
"It would be as well," advised Aunt Budge, "to give 'em the gold at once, for they'll play the trick, Jacob, whatever it is, on you till you do."
"Give them the gold!" exclaimed Uncle Budge, wonderingly. "My dear Polly, what do you mean?"
"They say you promised 'em each a gold piece last year if they'd come on and fool you this."
"I did?" with still more surprise in his voice—"I did? 'Pon my word I'd forgotten it. Well, well," producing the purse that Polly had knitted for him years ago. "Where are the rascals?" Then going to the stairs, "Rick and Karl, come down here," he called, with an affected sternness in his voice. "The idea of your daring to make a guy of your old uncle!"