Produced by Roger Frank and the Online DistributedProofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
Through the secret door]
THE TURNER TWINS
BY RALPH HENRY BARBOUR
Author of "The Crimson Sweater," "Harry's Island," "Team-Mates," etc.
ILLUSTRATED BY C. M. RELYEA
NEW YORK THE CENTURY CO. 1922
Copyright, 1921, 1922, by The Century Co.
PRINTED IN THE U. S. A.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE I Introduces a Pair of Shoes 3 II The Girl in the White Middy 13 III Cakes and Ale 28 IV Kewpie Starts Something 37 V In the Performance of Duty 52 VI Ned is Firm 61 VII High School Accepts Defeat 70 VIII In the Miser's House 84 IX Laurie Hears News 98 X Polly Entertains 110 XI Ned Speaks Out 120 XII The Committee on Arrangements 130 XIII Ned Gets into the Game 141 XIV The Fete 154 XV Ned Has an Idea 170 XVI Polly Tells a Spook Story 179 XVII Laurie Makes a Protest 190 XVIII Before the Battle 201 XIX Ned is Missing 213 XX For the Honor of the Turners 223 XXI The Understudy 238 XXII The Boys Make a Present 250 XXIII The Secret Passage 262 XXIV A Merry Christmas 272
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
Through the secret door Frontispiece
"Hello, fellows! Salutations and everything!" 36
"But don't you think almanacs make mistakes sometimes?" asked Polly 136
"Turner. Guess he's going to kick a goal for 'em." 240
THE TURNER TWINS
CHAPTER I--INTRODUCES A PAIR OF HEROES
"Jail," said the boy in the gray flannels.
"School," pronounced the boy in the blue serge.
"Bet you!"
"No, sir, you owe me ten cents now. You didn't pay up the last time."
"It's wrong to bet for money, Ned."
The other set down the suitcase he was carrying and scoffed. "Yes, whenyou lose," he observed, with deep sarcasm. "That's thirty-five cents youowe me. You bet in Chicago that--"
"That debt's outlawed. Chicago's in Michigan--"
"Bet you!"
"And this is New York, and so--"
"Mighty good thing Dad sent you to school, Laurie. Chicago's inIllinois, you ignoramus."
"Is it? Well, who cares?" Laurence Stenman Turner had also deposited thebag he was carrying on the brick sidewalk and was applying alavender-bordered handkerchief to a moist brow. "Just the same, that's ajail."
"If that's a jail, I'll eat my hat," declared the other,
"It's not a school, though, and that's flat," was the prompt retort.
"Huh, that was an easy one!" Edward Anderson Turner retreated to aflat-topped stone wall bordering a well-shaded lawn and seated himselfwith a sigh of relief. His companion followed suit. Behind them, grassand trees and flower beds made a pleasant setting for a square grayhouse, half hidden from the street. Overhead a horse-chestnut treespread low branches across the sidewalk. The quiet village streetascended gently, curving as it went, empty in both directions. Somewhereon a neighboring thoroughfare a scissors-grinder was punctuating thesilence with the musical _ding--dang--dong_ of bells. In a near-by treea locust was making his shrill clatter. Across the way, the subject ofcontention, stood a large red-brick edifice, stone trimmed, manywindowed, costly and unlovely. The boys viewed it silently. Then theirglances fell to the two black suitcases on the curbing.
"How far did that hombre say it was to the school?" asked Ned Turner,after a minute of silence.
"Three quarters of a mile."
"How far have we walked already?"
"Mile and a half."
"Consequently?"
"Said hombre was a li--was unvoracious."
"Un-_ver_-acious is the word, old son."
"What do we care? We don't own it," replied Laurie, cheerfully. "Want togo on?"
Ned shook his head slowly. "What time have you got?" he asked.
"What time do you want?" was the flippant response.
With a sigh, Ned pulled back his left sleeve and looked at his watch."It's only about a quarter to twelve. We don't have to get there untilsix if we don't want to."
"I know, but I couldn't sit on this wall all that time! Besides, whatabout lunch?"
"I'm not very hungry," was the sad reply.
"That's the trouble with having your breakfast late."
"That's the trouble with eating two plates of griddle-cakes, you mean,"retorted Laurie. "Anyway, I'm hungry if you're not. Let's go."
But he made no move, and they continued to dangle their shoes from thewall and gaze lazily across the shady street. The scissors-grinder'schime died in the distance. Farther down the street the whirring of alawn-mower competed with the locust.
"Upon a wall they sat them down," murmured Ned, turning a challenginglook on his companion.
"Lost in the wilds of Orstead Town," added Laurie.
Ned nodded mild approval and once more silence held.
Save that one was dressed in gray and the other in blue, the two boyswere strikingly alike. Each was slim of body and round of face, withred-brown hair and a short, slightly impertinent nose. Ned's eyes were atrifle bluer than Laurie's and he had the advantage--if advantage itwas--of some five pounds of weight. But neither of these facts wasapparent at first glance. Faces and hands were well browned and the pairlooked extremely healthy. They were dressed neatly, with perhaps moreattention to detail than is usual in lads of their age, their attireterminating at one end in well-polished brown shoes and at the other inimmaculate black derbies. Their age was fifteen years, three months, andeleven days. Which, of course, leads you to the correct conclusion thatthey were twins.
"Maybe," hazarded Laurie, presently, "we've lost our way."
"Don't just see how we could," Ned objected. "The old chap at thestation said we were to keep right along up Walnut Street. This is stillWalnut Street, isn't it?"
"I suppose so." Laurie's glance strayed right and left. "Must be; Idon't see any walnuts."
"Guess the only 'nuts' are right here. Come on, let 's hit the trailagain." Ned slid to his feet and took up his burden. "Why the dickens wedidn't take that carriage the fellow wanted to sell us is more than Isee."
"'Cause we needed the exercise. Also, 'cause we're down to a dollar andfourteen cents between us--unless you 're holding out."
"Well, I'm not!" replied Ned, indignantly. "I paid for the breakfasts inNew York--"
"And I paid for dinner on the diner last night--"
"Who said you didn't?" They went on leisurely, and presently Nedcontinued: "Say, suppose we don
't like this ranch after we getthere--then what, old son?"
Laurie considered thoughtfully. Then, "Two things we can do," hepronounced. "No, three. We can put up with it, change it to suit us, orleave it."
"Leave it! Yes, we can! On a dollar and fourteen cents?"
"We'll have nearly twenty more when we cash Dad's check and pay the termbill. Twenty dollars would take us back to New York and buy a lot ofgriddle-cakes, anyway."
Laurie's voice was partly drowned by a small delivery automobile thatdashed into sight at a corner ahead and sped by with a clamor worthy ofa four-ton truck. The brothers looked after it interestedly. "That's thefirst sign of life we've seen," said Ned. "Say, I do wish this streetwould stop twisting this way. First thing we know, we'll be back at thestation!"
"Bet you I'd hop the first freight then. I've got a hunch that we're notgoing to care for Hillman's School."
"Speak for yourself. I am. I like this town, too. It's pretty."
"Oh, it's pretty enough," grumbled Laurie, "but it went to sleep about acentury ago and hasn't waked up since. Here's somebody coming; let's askwhere the school is."
"It's just a girl."
"What of it? She probably knows."
The girl appeared to be of about their own age and wore a white middydress with black trimming and a scarlet tie knotted below a V ofsun-browned throat. She wore no hat and her dark hair was gathered intoa single braid. As she drew near she gave the boys a quick glance ofappraisal from a pair of gravely friendly brown eyes. It was Ned whoshifted his suitcase to his left hand and raised his derby. It wasalways Ned who spoke first; after that, they alternated scrupulously.
"Would you please tell us where Hillman's School is?" he asked.
The girl stopped and her somewhat serious face lighted with a smile."It's right there," she replied, and nodded.
The boys turned to the blankness of a high privet hedge behind an ironfence. The girl laughed softly. "Behind the hedge, I mean," sheexplained. "The gate is a little way around the corner there, on SummitStreet."
"Oh," said Laurie. That laugh was contagious, and he grinned inresponse. "A man at the station told us it was only three quarters of amile, but we've been walking for hours!"
"I guess it's nearer a mile than three quarters," answered the girl,slowly. She appeared to be giving the matter very serious considerationand two little thoughtful creases appeared above her nose, a small,straight nose that was bridged by a sprinkling of freckles. Then thesmile came again. "Maybe it did seem longer, though," she acknowledged,"for it's uphill all the way; and then, you had your bags. You're newboys, aren't you?"
Ned acknowledged it, adding, "Think we'll like it?"
The girl seemed genuinely surprised. "Why, of course! Every one likesit. What a perfectly funny idea!"
"Well," said Laurie, defensively, "we've never tried boarding-schoolbefore, you see. Dad didn't know anything about Hillman's, either. Hechose it on account of the way the advertisement read in a magazine.Something about 'a moderate discipline rigidly enforced.'"
The girl laughed again. (She had a jolly sort of laugh, they decided.)"You're--you're twins, aren't you?" she asked.
"He is," replied Ned, gravely.
"Why--why, aren't you both?" Her brown eyes grew very round and thelittle lines creased her nose again.
"It's this way," explained Laurie. "Ned was born first, and so, as therewas only one of him, he wasn't a twin. Then I came, and that made two ofus, and I was a twin. You see, don't you? It's really quite plain."
The girl shook her head slowly in puzzlement. "I--I'm afraid I don't,"she answered apologetically. "You _must_ be twins--both of you, Imean--because you both look just like both--I mean, each other!" Thenshe caught the sparkle of mischief in Ned's blue eyes and laughed. Thenthey all laughed. After which they seemed suddenly to be very goodfriends, such good friends that Laurie abandoned custom and spoke out ofturn.
"I suppose you know a lot of the fellows," he said.
The girl shook her head. "N--no, not any, really. Of course, I see mostof them when they come to Mother's, but she doesn't like me to--to_know_ them."
"Of course not," approved Ned. "She's dead right, too. They're a prettypoor lot, I guess."
"Oh, no, they're not, really! Only, you see--" She stopped, and thenwent on a trifle breathlessly: "I guess she wouldn't be awfully pleasedif she saw me now! I--I hope you'll like the school."
She nodded and went on.
"Thanks," called Laurie. "If we don't like it, we'll change it.Good-by."
"Nice kid," observed Ned, tolerantly, as they turned the corner of thehedge. "Wonder who she is. She said most of the fellows went to hermother's. Maybe her mother gives dancing lessons or something, eh?"
"If she does, she won't see me," responded his brother, firmly. "Nodancing for mine."
"Maybe it's compulsory."
"Maybe it's esthetic," retorted Laurie, derisively. "It makes no nevermind. I'm agin it. This must be the place. Yes, there's a sign."
It was a very modest sign a-swing from a rustic post beside a broadentrance giving on to a well-kept drive. "Hillman's School--EntranceOnly," it read. Laurie stopped in pretended alarm and laid a detainingclutch on Ned's shoulder.
"'Entrance Only'! Sounds as if we couldn't ever get out again, Ned! Doyou dare?"
Ned looked doubtfully through at the curving drive and the red-brickbuilding that showed beyond the border of trees and shrubbery. Then hethrew back his shoulders and set foot bravely within.
"Come, comrade, let us know the worst!"
Laurie, with a gesture of resignation, followed.
"What you durst I will likewise durst!"