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Arthur did all the hard work—the cutting out of the features, the putting-in of candle-holders. These pumpkin lanterns were for decoration. But Maida had ordered many paper jack-o’-lanterns for sale. The W.M.N.T.’s spent the evening rearranging the shop. Maida went to bed so tired that she could hardly drag one foot after the other. Granny had to undress her.
The crowd crossed over into the Court Two motionless, yellow faces, grinning at them from the Lathrop steps, showed that Laura and Harold had come out to meet them. On the lawn they broke into an impromptu game of tag which the jack-o’-lanterns seemed to enjoy as much as the children: certainly, they whizzed from place to place as quickly and, certainly, they smiled as hard.
I want to decorate my shop with a lot of real jack-o’-lanterns cut from pumpkins. It will be hard work and a lot of it and I was hoping that perhaps you’d help me with this.” The three faces lighted up. “Of course we will,” Dicky said heartily. “Gee, I bet Dicky and I could make some great lanterns,” Arthur said reflectively.
“Now, Granny, I’ll read until the children call for me,” she suggested, “so I won’t rumple my dress.” But she was too excited to read. She sat for a long time at the window, just looking out. Presently the jack-o’-lanterns, lighted now, began to make blobs of gold in the furry darkness of the street. She could not at first make out who held them.
For, sure enough, pricking through the round of her soft, pink cheeks, were a pair of tiny hollows. Halloween fell on Saturday that year. That made Friday a very busy time for Maida and the other members of the W.M.N.T. In the afternoon, they all worked like beavers making jack-o’-lanterns of the dozen pumpkins that Granny had ordered. Maida and Rosie and Dicky hollowed and scraped them.
Standing about everywhere among the lanterns were groups of little paper brownies, their tiny heads turned upwards as if, in the greatest astonishment, they were examining these monster beings. The jack-o’-lanterns sold like hot cakes. As for the brownies, “Granny, you’d think they were marching off the shelves!” Maida said. By dark, she was diving breathlessly into her surplus stock.
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