HOW THE BOYS FOOLED UNCLE BUDGE.
Reading edition
BY KATE R. McDOWELL.
Rick and Karl always spent a week in the spring at Uncle Budge's.
It had chanced for two or three years that they were there on All-fools' Day, and at the end of the last visit Uncle Budge, on leaving them at the cars, had urged them to come on for the same time the next year, adding, "If you succeed in fooling me then, I'll give you each a gold piece."
Uncle Budge as completely forgot having made such an offer, five minutes after the boys had waved their hats in good-by, as though there were no April-fool Days and no gold pieces in the world.
But not so with the Barnes boys. Gold pieces were not so plenty with them that they would be apt to let such an offer pass in one ear and out of the other. Already seats at the circus, fishing-rods, and skates were in wild confusion in their brains.
"A whole year to think up something!" said Rick.
"I don't believe there's a bit of use in trying," answered Karl. "We've come to the conclusion no end of times that we can't fool Uncle Budge, and we can't. That's all there is about it."
"No harm in trying," ventured the not easily discouraged Rick, thinking how often he had admired the gold dollar on Chan Holmes's watch chain. "Let's try, anyway."
So next April-fools' Day finding them at Uncle Budge's, Karl and Rick were tiptoeing about very early. They spread the Berkville Morning Argus of April 1, 1880—which they had slipped out of Uncle Budge's file the day before—out on the floor, sprinkled some water over it, folded it carefully, and Karl went quietly down stairs, opened the side door, laid the paper there, and took up stairs the Argus that the carrier had just thrown.
About an hour afterward the breakfast-bell rang, and the boys went down stairs. There lay the paper by Uncle Budge's plate, which caused so preternaturally solemn an expression to come over their faces that Aunt Budge was quite worried.
"Now I hope you're not getting homesick," she said to Karl; "I know there's not much goin' on for you, as is used to a large family and a good deal of noise; still"—in a more cheerful tone—"we'll think of something after I've done up my work."
An amused smile played about Rick's lips, to hide which he leaned his head on his hand.
"Your toothache ain't come on again, Richard?" inquired Aunt Budge, sympathetically.
"Oh, I'm all right," said one, while the other assured Aunt Budge that he didn't want to go home a bit, and was having the best sort of a time.
"Uncle Budge has gone over to Wilson's," said Aunt Budge, "but may be in any minute. He left word not to wait breakfast. Can you reach the Argus, Karl?"
"Well, well," began Aunt Budge, "if another of those Wilkinses isn't married! Amanda J. Why, now, I was thinking that Amanda went last year; but no, come to think, it was Alvira. It does seem that just as reg'lar as spring comes round, off one on 'em goes. Now Amanda is—"
But Aunt Budge's dissertation was cut short by a choking scene, in which Rick pounded his brother with such force on the back that it was a wonder they heard the front door open at all.
"There's Uncle Budge," said Rick, hurriedly. "Don't tell him anything you've noticed in the Argus, Aunt Budge, or he'll suspect."
"Suspect!" echoed Aunt Budge, her mind still on the Wilkinses. "Suspect!"
"Sh—sh!" implored Karl. "It's a fool, Aunt Budge. Help us to carry it out. Last year's paper—don't you see?"
"Well, well, I declare!" said Aunt Budge, as the real state of the case flashed over her. "Then," collecting her thoughts, "I was right about its being Amanda, and—" But Aunt Budge interrupted herself by laughing so heartily that the boys found themselves compelled to join her, though it appeared from the conversation, when Uncle Budge came to breakfast, that Aunt Budge had been recounting some of the boys' pranks of years before.
"How old was I then?" asked Karl. "I mustn't forget to ask mamma, when I get home, if she remembers it."
Uncle Budge seated himself, and asked for the paper. He squinted at the date as Karl held it toward him, and then said: "I believe I'd rather have a little younger paper than that. This comes within one of it, boys, but I guess I'll take the one on the eighty."
"Well, now!" exclaimed Aunt Budge, admiringly. "And he never so much as took it in his hand."
"We can't fool Uncle Budge," said Karl, uttering each word slowly. "That may as well pass into a proverb. It can not be done."
"I'm not so sure. We're not through trying yet, you know," put in Rick, with a peculiar look at his brother.
Karl motioned him aside after breakfast.
"What did you mean?" he asked.
"That I've an idea. Just listen;" and a great many questions and answers were exchanged in a hurried undertone.
"Grand—if it will work. Then we must be all ready by the time he comes down stairs?"
"Yes, and before that send a telegram to the boys."
"The boys" meant Hal and Jack Putnam; "a telegram," a note pinned to the string that went round a wooden peg at one of the Budgett windows, and another at the Putnams'.
"Why?" queried Karl.
"You'll see," replied Rick, as he hastily pencilled:
"'Be on the look-out for Uncle Budge. B. S.'"
The telegram came as the Putnam boys were breakfasting, and Jack laughed as he read it aloud.
"What is the fun?" asked Mrs. Putnam. "And how strange it is I can not remember those boys' names. Which one, now, is it that signs himself 'B. S.'?"
"Neither," laughed the boys, merrily. "'B. S.' means 'Big Show.' An April-fool on Mr. Budgett."
"And mustn't be missed," added Hal. "Jane, please tell us when you see Mr. Budgett come down street."
Jane went into the kitchen, where she hurriedly told the cook that Mr. Budgett would probably be coming down town soon, with "April-fool" chalked on his back.
"Ye don't mane it!" cried the interested Bridget. "Oh, thim byes! thim byes!" and she flew after the departing milkman with the news, omitting, however, the word "probably."
But to return to Mr. Budgett. Just as he was putting on his coat, he heard whispers of,
"He's going, Karl, as sure as I'm alive!"
"And hasn't noticed it. Well, that's too good."
"He's looking in the glass now."
"Sh—sh! don't make so much noise."
"He sees it, I'm sure, or he'd have gone long ago."
"Sh—sh! can't you?"
Mr. Budgett heard it all. "I believe I've left my pocket-book," he said, half aloud, as he turned to go up stairs.
"It's all up now," said Karl, vexedly.
"Maybe not. Keep dark."
"Couldn't very well do otherwise under these coats. Why doesn't he go? I'm smothering."
This decided Mr. Budgett. Up he went, and with Aunt Budge's hand-glass and the mirror took a complete survey.
"Did you find it?" called Aunt Budge, as he came down again.
"Yes," from Uncle Budge, who was listening for more whispers.
"We'll open the window, and watch him down the street."
"Sh—sh! How the Putnams will stare!"
A suppressed giggle followed.
The shutting of the front door was a signal for the boys to rush wildly out of the hall closet into the dining-room, where Aunt Budge was hovering over the breakfast dishes.
"What is it?" cried Aunt Budge, putting on her glasses. "Oh, what red faces! Did you get shut in?"
"We're fooling Uncle Budge," said Rick, breathlessly. "He promised us each a gold piece if we could," and he dashed up stairs after Karl.
They raised the windows cautiously, but not too quietly for Uncle Budge. He heard, but did not look up, though he began to feel a little ill at ease; and no less so when the milkman, who was dashing away from the Putnams', reined in his horses very noticeably, nudged the small boy on the side of the wagon, and both looked curiously at him.
Mr. Budgett walked a few steps, then looked furtively behind him. Imagine his feelings at discovering that the milkman had stopped his horses, and that the small boy was running quietly after him, but stopped as he noticed Mr. Budgett glance around.
"There certainly is something wrong," decided Mr. Budgett; "though I didn't think those little rascals would make a spectacle of me. As I live, their heads are out of the window yet. And look at the Putnams!" he exclaimed, aloud.
Well might he stop in surprise. There was Mrs. Putnam standing in the library window, with Abby and Sarah on tiptoe beside her; the two boys at a large upper window, poking each other and giggling audibly; Mr. Putnam at a third, apparently consulting a thermometer, but looking across at Mr. Budgett as though he possessed far more interest for him than any degree on the indicator; and lastly, Jane and Bridget on the side stoop, gazing as though he were a candidate for Barnum's.
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!"
"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."
"Well, I know these are two-dollar-and-a-half pieces," cried Rick, snatching his hat, "and I'm off to thank Uncle Budge for his fool," and away he went, and Karl after him when he found it was true.