“Tell you what! Bet they’re waiting to be planted. Let’s do it, and save Mr. Krankowitz the trouble!”
There was nothing for it; he’d have to get some help. The old man wondered whom to ask. Unfortunately, Jolly Solly was away. Just then he heard voices from the garden next door. It was those annoying Friedman boys that always seemed to be causing trouble. They were far from ideal, thought Mr. Krankowitz. On the other hand, they were young and energetic, and could probably do the job in no time at all.
“You there!” he called gruffly.
Fishel and Faivish turned to him in surprise.
“I didn’t do anything,” declared Fishel right away. “It wasn’t my fault that our Frisbee fell into your garden yesterday. The wind carried it across. And I only climbed over to get it back and not spoil your nice lawn.”
“Yeah, and I helped him, to keep you garden nice and uncluttered,” added Faivish piously.
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