CHAPTER IX HOUSECLEANING
Dave Wilbur’s back-yard was, as has been said, a favorite meeting-placefor the Truesdell boys, and when for any reason secret sessions weredesirable, the garage was especially convenient. Here, on the followingafternoon, the seven prospective business men assembled to listen toreports of their various committees and to discuss ways and means. NedBlake mounted a rickety step-ladder and called the meeting to order.
“I ran into a snag the moment I applied for a lease of the Colesonproperty,” began Ned. “The town authorities are willing to get someincome from it to cover taxes, but it seems that to be legal the leasemust stand in the name of somebody over twenty-one years old. We can getit for three months at twenty-five dollars a month, but the papers mustbe made out to somebody of legal age.”
“That ought to be easy,” suggested Dick Somers. “I know Dad would letthe lease stand in his name, if I asked him to.”
Ned shook his head. “Of course we can get around it that way—and maybewe’ll have to come to it; but this scheme is all our own and I’d like tosee us put it through and make a big success of it by our own efforts,without calling on anybody’s father for help in any way.”
“That’s the stuff!” exclaimed Wat Sanford. “We want to run this thing onour own. There ought to be some way to get around this silly legaldifficulty.”
“I’ve got an idea,” volunteered Tommy Beals from the front seat of theflivver, where he had ensconced himself. “I talked with our man, Sam,last night and he agreed to handle the refreshments for us. Why not havethe lease put in his name? That will cover the law and make Sam all themore anxious to attend to his part of the business.”
“Bully idea, Patty!” chorused several voices.
“But will Sam agree to this?” asked Ned.
“Sure he will!” declared Beals. “He’ll be so swelled up when he sees hisname on a legal document that we’ll be lucky if he doesn’t bust! Leaveit to me.”
This the boys were willing to do, and the discussion proceeded to othermatters. Dick Somers and Charlie Rogers reported an option on thepurchase of two brooms and half a dozen steel floor-scrapers at fourdollars. Sandpaper and wax would bring the total to eight-fifty. Theyhad also arranged for the loan of two polishing brushes when needed.Dave Wilbur and Wat Sanford had proved themselves shrewd business men inthe matter of interior decoration.
“Wat and I have contracted to tack up the usual flags and bunting aroundthe municipal band-stand on July third and take ’em down again on thefifth,” explained Dave. “In return for this hard toil we are to have theuse of the stuff till Labor Day, when the town will need it again.”
“That’s a clever scheme and it will save us real money,” approved Ned.“I’m a bit worried about all the hard work you’ve laid out for yourself,Weary, but at that, I guess you’ll find it easier than scraping andpolishing floors.”
“Yeah, I kind of figured it would take the load off’n me for a couple ofdays,” admitted Dave, with a grin.
These details being settled to the satisfaction of all, it was decidedto begin operations without further delay. Ned Blake, Tommy Beals andDave Wilbur started off in the flivver in quest of Sam, who, when found,proved very willing to leave his labors in the Beals garden for thepurpose of signing an important document at the town hall. There was nohitch this time, and very shortly a lease of the Coleson property to oneSamuel G. Washington, for the period of ninety days from date, wassigned, sealed and delivered, and with it the key to the house.
“Don’t say a word about this to anybody, Sam,” was Ned’s partinginjunction. “We want to keep the thing a secret as long as we can.”
“No sah, no sah, I don’t say nuthin’,” chuckled the negro and hestrutted back to his work in an ecstasy of self-importance.
After leaving Sam, the flivver was headed for the hardware store, wherethe other boys were waiting, and with brooms and scrapers stowed in thecar they were soon on the way to the scene of their labors.
“Our first job is to sweep out this dust,” announced Ned, when the greatoaken door of the Coleson house had swing open at the turn of his newlyacquired key. “Open every shutter and let the wind blow through.”
Coats were discarded and brooms wielded with such good will that all thefloored portion of the lower story was speedily cleared of its heavydeposit of dust and dirt. As fast as this was removed, the steelscrapers were put to work and, by the time the long shadows warned ofsupper time, a creditable showing had been made. A dip in the cold waterof the lake removed the grime and refreshed the spirits of the workers,after which they climbed into the little car and rattled away for home,well satisfied with their first day’s progress.
“All members of the orchestra meet for practice at my house tonight atseven-thirty,” directed Jim Tapley, who, by reason of his superiorability, was the acknowledged leader in things musical. “Come on overand listen in, Fatty,” he continued hospitably.
“No, thanks,” declined the plump youth with some fervor. “My nerves arenone too strong after such a strenuous day and besides I’ve got an ideathat I want to work up.”
When Tommy Beals got an idea, he pursued it with vigor, and long afterthe last wailing pulsation of the practicing orchestra had melted intomidnight silence, Tommy was still busily at work in his own room, uponthe walls of which were tacked several cleverly executed copies of his“idea.”
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