The Turner Twins Part 22

Laurie laughed. "What did she say to that?" he asked.

"She said if I wanted it bad enough to pay twenty cents for it she guessed it was worth twenty-five, and went off and didn't come back."

Polly laughed and then sighed. "I'm awfully tired. Doesn't that music sound lovely? Do you dance?"

Laurie shook his head. "No; but, say, if you want to go in there, I'll watch the booth for you."

Polly hesitated. "It's funny you don't," she said. "Don't you like it?"

It was Laurie's turn to hesitate. "No, not much. I never have danced.

It-it seems sort of silly." He looked at Polly doubtfully. Although he wouldn't have acknowledged it, he was more than half sorry that dancing was not included among his accomplishments.

"It isn't silly at all," a.s.serted Polly, almost indignantly. "You ought to learn. Mae could teach you to one-step in no time at all!"

"I guess that's about the way I'd do it," answered Laurie, sadly-"in no time at all! Don't you-couldn't _you_ teach a fellow?"

"I don't believe so. I never tried to teach any one. Besides, Mae dances lots better than I do. She put the things she had left on Grace Boswell's booth and went inside the minute the music started. She wanted me to come, but I thought I shouldn't," added Polly, virtuously.

"You go ahead now," urged Laurie. "I'll stay here till you come back. It isn't fair for you girls to miss the dancing. Besides, I guess there won't be much more sold now. Folks have begun to go, some of them, and most of the others are inside."

Polly looked toward the house. Through the big wide-open windows the lilting music of a waltz floated out. The Banjo and Mandolin Club was really doing very well to-night. Polly sighed once and looked wistful.

Then she shook her head. "Thanks, Nod," she said, "but I guess I'll stay here. Some one _might_ come."

"What do you care? You don't own 'em! Anyway, I guess I could sell a post-card if I had to!"

"You'd have trouble selling any of those pictures," laughed Polly.

"Aren't they dreadful? Where did they come from?"

"Pretty fierce," Laurie agreed. "They came from the Metropolitan Furniture Store. The man dug them out of a corner in the cellar. I guess he'd had them for years! Anyway, there was enough dust on them to choke you. He seemed awfully tickled when we agreed to take them and let him alone!"

"I should think he might have! We girls agreed to buy things from each other, just to help, but the only things they bought from me were post-cards!" Polly laughed as though at some thought; and Laurie, who had elevated himself to an empty corner of the booth and was swinging his feet against the blue draping in front, looked inquiringly. "I was just thinking about the boys," explained Polly.

"What about them? What boys do you mean?" Laurie asked coldly.

"The high school boys. They're awfully peeved because we girls took part in this, and not one of them has been here, I guess."

"Cheeky beggars," grumbled Laurie. "Guess we can do without them, though. Here comes Bob's father."

Mr. Starling was bent on a most peculiar mission. Laurie and Polly watched him stop at the next booth and engage in conversation. Then a fat pocket-book was produced, a bill was tendered, and Mr. Starling strolled on. At the Yale booth he stopped again.

"Well, Turner," he greeted, "this affair looks like a huge success, doesn't it? Why aren't you young folks inside there, dancing?"

"I don't dance, sir," answered Laurie, somewhat to his chagrin in a most apologetic tone. "And Polly thinks she ought to stand by the s.h.i.+p. This is Polly Deane, Mr. Starling."

Bob's father shook hands cordially across the depleted counter and a.s.sured its proprietor that he was very glad indeed to make her acquaintance. Then he added: "But you don't seem to have much left, Miss Polly. Now, I'm a great hand at a bargain. I dare say that if you made me a fair price for what there is here I'd jump at it. What do you say?"

Polly apparently didn't know just what to say for a minute, and her gaze sought counsel of Laurie.

"If you ask me," laughed the latter, "I'd say fifty cents was a big price for the lot!"

"You're not in charge," said Mr. Starling, almost severely. "I'm sure the young lady has better business ability. Suppose you name a price, Miss Polly."

"We-ell-" Polly did some mental arithmetic, and then, doubtfully: "A dollar and a half, sir," she said.

"Done!" replied Mr. Starling. He drew forth a two-dollar bill. "There you are! Just leave the things where they are. I'll look after them later. Now you youngsters go in and dance. What's this? Change? My dear young lady, don't you know that change is never given at an affair of this kind? I really couldn't think of taking it. It-it's a criminal offense!" And Mr. Starling nodded and walked away.

"By Jove, he's a brick!" exclaimed Laurie, warmly. "Look, he's doing the same thing everywhere!"

"I know," answered Polly, watching. "It's just dear of him, isn't it?

But, Nod, _what_ do you suppose he will do with these awful pictures?"

"The same thing he will do with that truck he's buying now," was the laughing reply. "He will probably put them in the furnace!"

"Well," said Polly, after a moment, "I suppose we might as well go inside, don't you? We can look on, anyway, and"-with a stifled sigh-"I'd 'most as lief look on as dance."

Laurie followed, for the second time in his life wis.h.i.+ng that the Terpsich.o.r.ean art had been included in his education!

CHAPTER XV-NED HAS AN IDEA

"Three hundred and thirty-three dollars and eighty-five cents," said Ned, in very satisfied tones. "We took in three hundred and sixty-three five, but we had twenty-nine twenty to come out for expenses. Not so bad, what?"

"But something tells me," answered Laurie, mournfully, "that if all our expenses were deducted we'd have less than that. You see," he explained to Polly, "I lost the piece of paper that I set down the money I paid out on, and I just had to guess what it all came to, because I'd never had time to add it up."

"I dare say you guessed enough," replied Ned, untroubled.

"I dare say I didn't, then!" was the indignant response. "If I did, where's all the money I had when I started? I've got a dollar and ninety cents left, and I had over four dollars when you roped me in on the thing! I'm more than two dollars shy, I tell you!"

"Oh, well, it's gone for a worthy cause," laughed Ned.

"Maybe," Laurie grumbled, "but I notice that none of yours has gone that way. You always made me pay for everything!"

"Well, I think you did it beautifully," said Polly. "I never suspected you'd make so much!"

They were in the little garden behind the shop. It was the second day after the fete, and the bell in the Congregational church tower had just struck two. There was a perceptible nip in the air to-day, and the flowers in the border showed blackened leaves, while the nasturtiums were frankly limp and lifeless. But here in the suns.h.i.+ne it was warm enough, and Laurie, spurning the bench, was seated tailor fas.h.i.+on on the yellowing turf. Polly had stated her absolute cert.i.tude that he would catch cold, but Laurie derided the idea.

"We're awfully much obliged to you girls," said Ned. "We wouldn't have done nearly so well if you hadn't helped. I think the committee ought to give you a-a vote of thanks or something."

"Oh, we all loved it!" Polly a.s.sured him earnestly. "We had heaps of fun. Why, I wouldn't have missed that disappearing trick for anything. I was positively thrilled when Laurie came running up the garden!"

The boys' laughter interrupted, and Polly looked puzzled.

"That wasn't Laurie," explained Ned. "That was me."

"But I was sure you were the one in the chair! And if you were in the chair, how could you-"

"I wasn't, though. That was Laurie."