“We mustn’t go before midnight, Philip. Mr. Mollett might see us and the surprise would go flop.”
“I hope you’ve kept your mouth shut, Bob. You haven’t let out a word, have you?”
“What do you take me for?” retorted Bob, administering a hearty punch to Simon; “Patrick, have you finished the inscription?”
“See, it’s here in my backpack.”
“It’s super! You’re tops at artistic jobs.”
In gold letters on a light blue background, they read: “Happy New Year to Mr. Mollett, from his grateful debtors, Cyril, Bob, Simon, Charlie, Andrew, Patrick, with the help of the Youth Workers Group, and their chief, Philip Berger.”
“Where will you hang it?”
“Inside, of course, we don’t want everyone to see it.”
“It’s marvelous, this van,” murmured Bob, caressing its shining surface. “Only think that soon I’ll be riding in it!”
“I will be mad if it rains tonight,” said Cyril; “I was polishing it until midnight last evening.”
“Don’t be afraid. It’s too cold to rain, and the sky is full of stars. Let’s go up now, I’m freezing.”
The happy crowd climbed nimbly up the four floors and invaded Patrick’s home, to wait for the solemn moment when Philip would drive the van triumphantly in front of Mr. Mollett’s door.
“Isn’t it nearly time, Cyril?” asked Simon, stiffling a yawn.
“Since you’re asleep on your feet, better go home to bed!”
“I haven’t traveled the whole day to miss this excursion,” exclaimed Simon rubbing his eyes. “What an awfully long journey it seemed, since five o’clock this morning!”
“Here is some coffee to wake you up!” said Mrs. Demier entering at this moment with a great steaming coffee pot and a plate of biscuits. Bob’s face brightened, and he hurried to help Carol put the cups on the round table. Every other minute Cyril kept opening the window and taking a careful survey of the street, fearful lest some clumsy person might scratch the van in passing.
“What time does your boss get up, Bob?” asked Patrick: “I’d love to see his surprise when he opens his shutters. You can be glad you’re living there!”
“He’s very early as a rule, but since it’s a holiday, I hope he’ll sleep a little longer.”
“In spite of my noted curiosity, I’m not inclined to get up at six tomorrow, even for such a good cause,” said Simon, yawning again almost wide enough to dislocate his jaw.
“We will pay him a visit ‘en masse’ tomorrow morning at ten, and Bob will tell us all about it. Agreed?” said Philip.
“Agreed! Let’s go now; it’s half past eleven. Everyone is asleep.”
They all jumped to their feet. “Softly, softly!” cautioned Mrs. Demier; “remember we are in an apartment.”
On tiptoe the party descended the four flights of stairs, and squeezed into the minivan which Philip started as quietly as possible. The frosty air took away all their sleepiness. Happy and excited, they were all seized with uncontrollable laughter.
“Don’t put your great feet on the folding seat!” complained Cyril.
“Look here, first of all, they are no bigger than yours; and second, it will be treated worse than that when I load up with baskets of cauliflowers. Besides, you can’t say anything; I paid for that part!”
“Look out, Philip! You ran over a nail - we’ll have a puncture!”
“Don’t bother to stop at the red light; there’s no one around!”
Even Philip shook with laughter at some of the comments.
“You’ll make me run into a wall if you keep on like this,” he remonstrated.
At last the van arrived safely at Three Mirrors Street, and stopped before the little home of the florist, who was sleeping the sleep of the just behind closed shutters.
“Quiet, now!” warned Philip sternly: “No banging doors or chattering.”
Charlie pushed his handkerchief into his mouth to stifle a fresh desire to laugh. Patrick hung the inscription well in sight on the mirror, and Philip gave the keys to Bob, who crept into the house like a mouse into its hole. Silently the lads moved away, returning several times for one more look at the object of so much effort and care. Philip’s car was parked not far off, and was used to take each one home. They arranged where to meet the following morning. Only Simon gave no sign of life when Philip stopped at the Golden Lion Hotel. He was so fast asleep that he was carried in like a child in the young farmer’s strong arms.