I cl-climbed up on a board, and it's fallen down!"

"I'll get you a ladder!" cried Laurie, gallantly.

"N-no, never mind. I'm going to drop in a s-second. I just want to ask you what Brown's color is. Nettie Blanchard is going to be Brown and-"

"Why, brown, of course!"

"Oh!" There was the sound of desperate sc.r.a.ping against the farther side of the fence, and Polly's countenance became fairly convulsed with the effort of holding herself in sight. "Oh! She said it was pur-pur-"

Polly disappeared. There was a thud from the next yard.

"Purple!" The word floated across to him, m.u.f.fled but triumphant.

"Are you hurt, Polly?" he called anxiously.

"Not a bit," was the rueful response, "but I'm afraid the day-lilies are!" Then she laughed merrily. "Thanks, Nod! I didn't think Nettie was right. She loves purple, you see!"

"Does she? Well, say, maybe she can be Williams. We weren't going to have Williams, but its color is purple, I think, and if she is going to be disappointed-"

"She will look very well indeed in brown," came from the other side in judicial tones; "and if we begin making changes, half the girls will want to be something they aren't. Why, Pearl Fayles begged to be some girls' college neither Mae nor I had ever heard of, just so she could wear lavender and pale lemon!"

"Well, all right," laughed Laurie. "She'd better stick to Brown-and brown! Good-by, Polly. I'll drop in after a while and find out how things are getting on."

He turned to find Bob viewing him quizzically from the end of the arbor, swinging a hammer in each hand. "Of course it's all right, I dare say,"

he announced, "but I _thought_ you came here to fix up the arbor.

Instead of that I find you talking to girls over the fence!"

"There's only one girl," replied Laurie, with dignity, "and we were talking business."

"Oh, of course! Sorry I interrupted."

"You needn't be, and you didn't. Quit grinning like a simpleton and give me a hammer!"

"Right-o! Come on, Thomas! It's quite all right now!"

An hour later their task was done, and well done, and they viewed it with approval. To be honest, the major part of the work had been performed by the faithful Thomas, although it is not to be denied that both Laurie and Bob toiled conscientiously. Before they were through approving the result from various angles, Bob's father joined them. Mr.

Starling was an older edition of Bob-a tall, straight, lean-visaged man of forty-two or -three, with the complexion of one who had lived an outdoor life. He had a deep, pleasant voice and a quiet manner not fully in accord with a pair of keen eyes and a firm mouth.

"I'd call that a good piece of work, boys," he said, as he joined them.

"And right up to specifications, too. Those paper lanterns come yet, Bob?"

"No, sir; I haven't seen them."

"Lanterns, Mr. Starling?" asked Laurie. "Do you mean Chinese lanterns?

We've ordered a lot from the caterer, sir."

"Tell him you won't need them, then. I've got a hundred coming up from the city, Turner. They ought to be here, too. Thomas, call up the express company and ask about them."

"That's very kind, sir," said Laurie, "but you needn't have done it.

You-you're doing _everything_!"

"Nonsense! Bob and I want to do our part, of course. Well, this wilderness certainly looks different, doesn't it? That reminds me, Bob; the agent writes me that we may 'make such improvements to the property as we desire.' So, as I consider the absence of that arbor an improvement, I guess you can pull it down any time you like. I'm going to have a cup of tea, Turner. Will you join me? I believe there will be cakes, too."

Laurie found Ned in rather a low frame of mind when he got back to Number 16 a half-hour before supper-time. Ned was hunched over a Latin book and each hand held a firm grip on his hair. At Laurie's arrival he merely grunted.

"Where does it pain you most?" asked Laurie, solicitously, subsiding into a chair with a weary sigh. Ned's mood was far from flippant. He rewarded the other with a scowl, and bent his gaze on the book again.

"Want to hear the latest news from the front?" persisted Laurie.

"No, I don't!" his brother growled. "I've had all the news I can stand.

Smug says that if I don't get this rotten stuff by nine to-night, and make a perfect showing to-morrow, he will can me!"

"Mr. Cornish said that?" gasped Laurie. "What do you know about that?

Why, I thought he was a gentleman!"

"He's a-a brute! I can't learn the old stuff! And I have a hunch that Mulford means to give me a try in the Loring game Sat.u.r.day. And if I don't get this, Cornish will fix it so I can't play. He as good as said so."

"Didn't you tell him you'd been busy with the fete and everything?"

"Of course I did. Much he cared! Just made a rotten pun. Said I'd better keep my own fate in mind. Puns are fearfully low and vulgar!"

"Aren't they? How much of that have you got?"

"Six pages. I-I've sort of neglected it the last two days. Some fellows can fake through, but I don't have any luck. He's always picking on me."

Laurie whistled expressively. "Six pages! Well, never say die, partner.

We'll get down to supper early, and that'll give us two hours before nine."

"Us?" questioned Ned, hopefully.

"Sure. I'll give you a hand. As the well-known proverb so wisely remarks, two heads are the shortest way home."

Ned grinned, and stopped tormenting his hair. "Honest? That's mighty decent, Laurie. I'll do as much for you some day."

"Hope you won't have to. Wash your dirty face and let's beat it!"

At half-past nine a more cheerful and much relieved Ned returned from the hall master's study. "All right," he announced to an anxious Laurie.

"He was rather decent, too. Said he guessed that, in view of the manifold affairs engaging my attention just now,-you know the crazy way he talks,-he wouldn't demand too much from me. Reckon he means to let me down easy to-morrow, eh?"

"Maybe, partner, and maybe not. Take my advice and, in the words of the Scouts, be prepared!"

Friday was a hectic day for Laurie and all others concerned with the fete. Difficulties that had remained in ambush all the week sprang out and confronted them at the last moment. Half a dozen things had been forgotten, and every member of the committee sought to exonerate himself. Tempers were short and the meeting in Dan Whipple's room at nine o'clock was far from harmonious. All went to bed that night firmly convinced that the affair was doomed to be a flat failure. And, to add to that conviction, the night sky was overcast and an unsympathetic easterly wind was blowing. Ned, conscious of having imposed too many duties on Laurie, was grouchy and silent; and Laurie, convinced that he had been made a "goat" of, and that Ned was secretly blaming him for mistakes and omissions that were no fault of his, retired in high dudgeon.

And yet, the morning dawned fair and warm, with an almost cloudless blue sky over the world, and life looked very different indeed. Ned arose whistling, and Laurie somehow knew that everything would be all right.

Fortunately, they had but two recitations on Sat.u.r.day, and in consequence there remained to them three whole hours before dinner to devote to the affairs of the entertainment. They were busy hours, you may be sure. If Ned hurried downtown once, he hurried there half a dozen times; while Laurie, seated beside the driver of a rickety express-wagon, rounded up all kinds of things, from the platform at the field-house to the cakes at Miss Comfort's. Dinner brought a respite; but as soon as it was over, Laurie was back on the job, while Ned joined the football-players.

Of course, what the Hillman's School football team should have done that afternoon was to score a decisive victory over the visiting eleven. What it did do was to get thoroughly worsted. Loring was something of a surprise, with a heavier line and a faster bunch of backs than Hillman's had expected. And Loring knew a lot of football, and proved the fact early in the game. At half-past two, by which time the second period was half over, the result was a foregone conclusion. Loring had scored two touch-downs and as many goals therefrom, and the Blue had never once threatened the adversary's last white line. Gains through the opponent were infrequent and short, even Pope, who could generally be depended on to tear off a few yards when the worst came to the worst, failing dismally.

In mid-field, Mason and Slavin made some stirring advances around the Loring wings, and there were several successful forward pa.s.ses to the home team's credit; but, once past Loring's thirty-yard line, Hillman's seemed powerless. The third quarter went scoreless, and in the fourth, realizing doubtless that defeat was certain, Coach Mulford used his subst.i.tutes lavishly. Ned made his first appearance on the big team in that period, taking Mason's place for some eight of the fifteen minutes.

He did neither better nor worse than the other second- and third-string fellows, perhaps-although, when Pope was taken out and Deering subst.i.tuted at full-back, he did his share of the punting and performed very creditably. But that fourth period gave Loring an opportunity to add to her score, and she seized it. Even with several subst.i.tutes in her own line-up, she was still far better than Hillman's, and a goal from the field and, in the last few moments of the game, a third touch-down, resulted.