Part 16 (1/2)

Trimble saw them disappear into the garden, and, guided by their cheery voices, soon discovered the back of the shed in which the momentous surgical operation was to take place. It backed on the road, and might have been built for Trimble's purpose. For the woodwork abounded in most convenient cracks, through which a spy might peep and listen luxuriously. What a day Jonah was having!

The Roshers conducted their friend into the place like anxious relatives who conduct a physician into a sick-chamber. The poor patient lay on the floor in a very bad way. Two wheels were off, the axle was bent, the wire spokes were twisted, the saddle was off, and the brake was all over the place.

Jeffreys shook his head and looked grave.

”It's a bad job,” said he.

”You see, we were giving mother a ride on it, and she's too heavy-- especially going downhill. She thought we were holding it, but it got away. We yelled to her to put on the brake, but she didn't, and it went bang into the wall.”

”And your mother?” inquired Jeffreys, somewhat anxiously.

”Oh, her face is much better now. The doctor says there'll be hardly any marks left after all.”

It was a long business putting the unlucky tricycle in order. Jeffreys was not a mechanic. All he could do was to put the parts together in a makes.h.i.+ft way, and by straightening some of the bent parts and greasing some of the stiff parts restore the iron horse into a gloomy semblance of his old self.

The boys were as grateful and delighted as if he had constructed a new machine out of s.p.a.ce; and when at last a trial trip demonstrated that at any rate the wheels would go round and the saddle would carry them, their hearts overflowed.

”You are a real brick, Jeff,” said Teddy; ”I wish I could give you a hundred pounds!”

”I don't want a hundred pounds,” said Jeffreys, with a smile; ”if you and Freddy and I are good friends, that's worth a lot more to me.”

”Why?” demanded Freddy; ”are we the only friends you've got?”

Jeffreys looked out of the window and said,--

”Not quite--I've got one more.”

”Who--G.o.d?” asked the boy naturally.

Poor Jeffreys! He sometimes forgot that Friend, and it startled and humbled him to hear the little fellow's simple question.

”Of course, he's got Him,” interposed Teddy, without giving him time to reply. ”But who else, Jeff?”

”I saw him not long ago,” said Jeffreys. ”His name's Julius.”

”You don't like him more than us, do you?” asked Teddy rather anxiously.

”Not a quarter as much, old chap,” said Jeffreys.

There was a pause, during which Trimble chuckled to think how little the speaker guessed into whose ears he was betraying the name of his villainous accomplice! Presently, however, he started to hear the sound of his own name.

”Jeff,” said Teddy, ”isn't Mr Trimble a beast?”

”Let's talk about something pleasant,” suggested Jeffreys, by way of begging the question.

”Let's talk about hanging him; that would be pleasant,” said Teddy.

”Would you be sorry if he was dead?” demanded Teddy, in his matter-of- fact way. ”I say, Jeff, wouldn't it be jolly if we could kill everybody we hated?”

”Wouldn't it be jolly if every little boy who talked like a little donkey were to have his ears boxed?” said Jeffreys.