The Rover Boys Down East: or, The Struggle for the Stanhope Fortune

“A little! Oh, Dick, I guess you’ve got a good bit more than I’ve got.”

“Are you sorry for that, Dora?”

“Sorry? Oh, no, but – but – ” And Dora suddenly turned very red.

“What, dear?” he whispered.

“Why – I – that is – you said you would take me just as quickly if I were poor. Well – I – I’d take you that way, too!” And now the girl hid her blushes in her handkerchief.

“Dora, you’re a darling, and true-blue!” whispered Dick, fervidly. “We’ll pull together, rich or poor, and be happy, see if we don’t!”

“First call for lunch!” announced a waiter, coming through the car.

“Say, that hits me!” came from Tom. “I had such a slim breakfast I am hollow clear to my shoes!”

“A slim breakfast!” sniffed Sam. “Fruit, sawdust and cream, fried eggs with bacon, half a dozen muffins, and coffee!”

“Get out! You’re thinking of your own breakfast!” retorted Tom. “Come on, let’s lead the way – before the dining car fills up.” And he caught Nellie by the arm.

“All right, we’re coming!” cried Sam, and followed with Grace. “Come on, Dick!” And he motioned to the others. Soon all were moving towards the dining car.

“Might as well do a little practicing,” was Tom’s comment, on the way, and linking his arm into that of Nellie, he began very softly to whistle a well-known wedding march.

“Oh, Tom Rover!” cried Nellie, giving him a playful poke in the side. “Of all things! And in a railroad car! I’ve a good mind not to walk with you.”

“All right, I’ll change the tune,” cried Tom, cheerfully, and commenced to whistle a funeral dirge, at which all of the girls shrieked with laughter.

It was a jolly crowd that sat down to the tables in the dining car, and the Rover boys saw to it that the girls were provided with whatever they desired on the bill of fare. They took their time over the meal, and the fun they had made even the waiters smile broadly.

“We’ll get to Cartown in an hour,” said Sam, after they had returned to the parlor car. “And then we’ll have to say good-bye.”

“Oh, it’s too bad!” pouted Grace. “I wish you were going through to Cedarville with us.”

“So do I.”

“Well, the best of friends must part, as the oyster said to the shell,” observed Tom, and at this joke the others smiled faintly. But now that they were to separate so soon all felt rather sober. Little did they dream of the exciting occurrence that was to bring them together again.

CHAPTER VIII

HOME ONCE MORE

“And now for Oak Run and home!”

It was Dick who spoke, as he and his brothers boarded another train at Cartown. The girls had gone on in the first train and the boys had had to wait half an hour for the one on the line which would take them close to Valley Brook farm.

“Home it is!” returned Sam. “And I’ll be glad to see dad again – and the rest of ’em.”

“Right you are, Sam,” joined in Tom. “After all, there is no place like home.”

“Remember how you used to hate the farm, Tom?”

“Well, that was when we got too much of it. I don’t like all farm and nothing else.”

“I wonder if Uncle Randolph has any new fads this summer?” came from Dick. Their uncle was more or less of a scientific farmer, and was always trying new ways, and usually losing money on them.

“He’s got bees in his bonnet,” answered Tom.

“What’s that?” demanded Dick, indignantly. “Tom, Uncle Randolph is no more crazy than you are. He has a right to experiment if he wants to.”

“Who said he was crazy?”

“You said ‘he has bees in his bonnet.’ It’s the same thing.”

“Not much,” answered Tom dryly. “He’s got bees on the brain – if that suits you better. Aunt Martha wrote me that he had invested in half a dozen hives of bees, and got a queen bee worth I don’t know how much to boss the colony.”

“Oh, so he’s going into bee culture!” murmured Dick. “I hope he doesn’t get stung.”

“He’ll be stung right enough,” answered Sam. “If not in one way then in another. He never makes his experiments pay. Say, I rather think I’ll steer clear of those bees.”

“Maybe we can have some fun with them,” mused Tom, and immediately commenced to lay plans for that purpose.

They had a three hours’ ride to Oak Run and on the way made several stops of more or less importance. At one place, near the depot, was a cigar store, and Tom left the train and came back with three cigars of large size in his hand.

“What are you going to do with those,” questioned Sam, “learn to smoke?”

“No, I am going to treat some of my particular friends,” answered Tom, and winked one eye, suggestively.

“Oh, let me in on the joke!” pleaded his younger brother.

“Here it is then,” answered Tom, and brought from his pocket a small round wooden box. Taking off the cover he disclosed to view some pellets that were coated with what looked like silver.

“What are they?” questioned Sam.

“The fireworks catalogue called them Serpent’s Eggs. You light one and the first thing you know it commences to swell up – ”

“Oh, yes, and then pushes out just like a great big worm, or snake!” finished Sam. “I had a box of ’em last year. And are you going – ”

“To put them in the cigars. They are harmless, but we can get some fun out of ’em,” concluded Tom.

It was an easy matter to cut out a portion of the tobacco from the smoking end of each cigar, and this done Tom inserted three of the pellets in each. Then he placed the cigars carefully in his pocket.

On the way to Oak Run the three lads discussed the doings at Brill, and also the news concerning Tad Sobber and Josiah Crabtree.

“Both of these rascals would like to get their hands on the Stanhope fortune,” said Dick.

“Yes, but in different ways,” returned Sam.

“Well, neither of ’em shall get his hands on a dollar – if I can help it,” answered Dick.