"We haven't made a guy of you," said the boys, rushing down; "and it isn't a mean fool at all, Uncle Budge, for it's really nothing."
"Nothing!" echoed Aunt Budge. "Why is everybody staring, then?"
"Only the Putnams," they explained. "We sent a telegram to the boys—"
"Telling them what?" interrupted Uncle Budge. "Not all about it, I hope?"
"No; merely to be on the look-out for you."
"You don't mean it!" chuckled Uncle Budge; "and that that whole family is fooled from garret to cellar, milkman included. Well, well, pretty good, pretty good. You deserve a reward, boys, for there'll be few tricks played to-day that'll end as pleasantly as this. It's the right kind of one, and the more of that sort the merrier."
"Beauties, ain't they?" cried Aunt Budge, admiringly, as the boys laid their gold pieces on the table where the sun came streaming in, and called her to look at them.
"Seems to me," said Karl, "they're bigger than Chan Holmes's."
"His has worn down, perhaps," said Rick, spinning his glittering coin. "Why, look here! what's this? 'Two and a half D.'"
"No you don't," answered Karl, knowingly. "I'm too well posted on the day of the month."