Twenty minutes later, after a joyous welcome from his father and mother, and sister Kate, and the cordial reception extended Alex, Jack was seated at his "old corner" of the vine-hidden veranda, recounting the conversation they had overheard between the two real estate men. Before Mr. Orr had ventured an opinion in the matter, however, the subject was temporarily thrust aside by the appearance of a party of Kate's girl friends, evidently much disturbed over something. When on running forward Kate's voice was quickly added to the excited conversation, Jack followed to greet the girls, and learn the cause, and returned with the party to the veranda.

"Now what do you think of this?" he exclaimed with tragic horror.

"Professor Robison, the world renowned mind reader (though I never heard of him before), owing to his inability to arrive, will not be able to be present at the Girls' Club song-fight to-night! Did you ever!"

"But it's no laughing matter," said Kate, following the introduction of her friends to Alex. "He was the feature of our program to-night, and I simply can't see what we are going to do. Many of the people will be coming just to hear him."

"Jack, couldn't you help us out?" asked one of the other girls, half seriously. "You used to pretend you were a phrenologist and all that kind of thing at school, I remember."

"No thanks, Mary. I've gotten over all that sort of foolishness," Jack responded, expanding his chest and speaking in a deep voice. "I leave that for you younger folks."

A small laughing riot followed this pompous declaration, and at its conclusion Jack carried Alex off to introduce him to his pigeons and chickens, and other former treasures of the back yard.

Some minutes later Jack was dilating on the rich under-color of his pet Buff Orpington hen, when Alex, with an apology, abruptly broke in. "Say, Jack, what kind of a crowd do they have at these Girls' Club affairs?

Very swell?"

"Well, about everyone in the church goes, and quite a few farmers usually come in from out of town. They are as 'swell' as anything we have here, I guess. The Sunday-school room is usually well filled. Why?"

"I was just wondering whether we _couldn't_ help the girls out, and have a little fun out of it into the bargain. Remember the soldiers on the train? Now, why couldn't we," and therewith Alex briefly sketched his plan. Jack promptly tossed the hen back into the coop. "Great, Al! We will! It will be all kinds of a lark. I think there is just the stuff we'll need up in the garret.

"Come on; we'll break the joyful tidings to the girls."

"I'd rather you played the part, though," said Alex as they returned toward the veranda. "You of course know everyone."

"That will make no difference according to this plan. If I am in full view, too, that will add to the mystery, and help keep up the fun. The folks will be breaking their heads to learn who it is on the platform.

No; it's settled. You are the distinguished professor and phreno-what-do-you-call-it."

The girls on the veranda were still in dejected debate as the boys reappeared. "Ladies, we've got this thing fixed for you," announced Jack.

"We have just wirelessed and engaged that world-famous thought-stealer, b.u.mpologist and general seer, Prof. Mahomet Click, of Constantinople, to plug up that hole in your program to-night. He stated that it would give him great pleasure to come to the a.s.sistance of such charming young women, et cetera, and that he could be counted upon."

"You two mean things!" exclaimed Kate. "We saw you with your heads together out there, laughing. This is no joking matter at all."

"We are serious," Jack protested. "Positively. You go ahead and announce that owing to an attack of croup, or any other reason, Prof. Robison will not be able to appear, but that Prof. Click has kindly consented to subst.i.tute, and we will look after the rest."

"Do you really mean it?" cried the girls.

"On our word as full-grown gentlemen," responded Jack. "But we're not going to explain.

"Come on, Alex, until we have further debate with the distinguished Turk up in the garret. He probably has arrived by this time."

Whatever doubts Kate had as to the seriousness of the boys' intentions, they had not only been dissipated by noon, but had given place to lively curiosity and expectation. Alex and Jack had devoted the entire morning to their mysterious preparations; had made numerous trips to the church school-room, to the stores; had borrowed needles, thread, mucilage; had turned the library shelves upside-down in a search for certain books; and once, coming on them unawares, she had surprised them practising strange incantations with their fingers.

It was late in the afternoon that the serious, and what was to prove the most important, feature of the evening's performance developed. On a return trip to the dry-goods store Jack drew Alex to a halt with an exclamation, and pointed across the street. Burke, the real estate man, was walking slowly along with a shrivelled-up little old gentleman in dilapidated hat, faded garments, and top-boots.

"The victim!" said Jack with deep disgust. "Old Uncle Joe Potter.

"Look at him sporting along with a cigar in his mouth--one of Burke's cigars!"

The boys parallelled the oddly a.s.sorted pair some distance, and it could readily be seen that Burke was doing his best to win the old man's confidence, and that the latter already was much impressed with the attention and deference shown him by the well-dressed agent.

"If we could get the old man alone," said Alex.

"Not much chance, I am afraid. Now that he has him in hand, Burke probably won't lose sight of him until he has closed his bargain.

Remember what he said just before we left the train, about giving the old chap a good time to-night, and putting him up at one of the hotels."

Alex halted. "Give him a good time! Say, Jack, why shouldn't he give him a good time at the Girls' Club entertainment to-night? And then why shouldn't we--"

Jack uttered a shout, and struck Alex enthusiastically on the back. "Al, you've hit it! You've hit it! Bully!

"Here! Give me those complimentary tickets Kate gave us, and I'll go right after them, before they make any other arrangements. You wait."

Jack was running across the street in a moment, and drawing up alongside the two men, he addressed them both. "Excuse me, Mr. Potter, Mr.

Burke--but wouldn't you like to take in our Girls' Club entertainment to-night? It's going to be really quite good--good music, and fun, and a bit of tea social in between.

"I'm sure you would enjoy it," he declared, addressing himself to the older man. "One of the features of the program is a chap who claims he can read people's thoughts. Of course n.o.body thinks he can, but he will make lots of fun."

The old man smiled, and looked at his companion.

"It is up to you, Mr. Potter," responded Burke genially. "If you think you would enjoy it, why, I would. Your taste is good enough recommendation for me."

"Then let us go," said the old gentleman, putting his hand into his pocket.

"No; this is my treat," interposed Burke, grasping the tickets. "Here you are, lad, and keep the change."

"Thank you, sir," said Jack. And with difficulty restraining a shout, he dashed back toward Alex, waving his hat above his head as a token of victory.

The scene of the Girls' Club entertainment, the church school-room, was filled to the doors when the program began that evening.

"I'm beginning to be anxious about Mr. Burke and the old man, though,"

observed Jack, who with Alex had been standing near the entrance, and remarking on the good attendance. A moment after the door again opened, and Jack started forward with an expression of relief. They had come.

"Good evening, Mr. Potter, Mr. Burke," he said. "Shall I find you a seat?"

"Yes, and a good one, now," requested the real estate man.

"I saved two, well to the front," responded Jack. "This way, please."

"Now, Alex," he said, returning, "it's up to us."

The "mind-reading" number on the program was at length reached. The chairman arose.

"I am very sorry to say, ladies and gentlemen," he announced, "that Prof.

Robison, who is next on the program, was unexpectedly not able to keep his engagement. However, in his place we have secured the services of Prof. Mahmoud Click, of Constantinople; astrologer, phrenologist, mind-reader, and general all-round seer; and I am sure you will find him no less instructive and entertaining."

Despite this a.s.surance, in the silence which followed there was a distinct note of disappointment, even displeasure. For it was obvious that the flowery t.i.tle of the subst.i.tute concealed some local amateur.

Disappointment, however, quickly gave place to a flutter of interest when the rear door opened, and preceded by Jack Orr, there swept down the aisle a tall, venerable figure in flowing robes; white-bearded, spectacled, and crowned with a tall conical hat bearing strange hieroglyphics.

When, on Jack stepping aside and taking an un.o.btrusive front seat, the aged professor mounted the platform and solemnly surveyed his audience, t.i.tters, then a burst of laughter swept over the school-room. The long yellow robe was covered with grotesque caricatures of cats, frogs, dogs, cranes and turtles, interspersed with great black question-marks.