watch the moving in next door while he
was trying to think of a safe hiding place for Mr. Bartlett's money.
Better keep out of sight from the front window of his house, though.
Jerry climbed the picket fence that separated his yard from Mr.
Bullfinch's. Then, crouching low, he ran from bush to bush and took
his stand in front of a weigela bush that screened him from being seen
by his family.

The movers were big, brawny men. Jerry saw them lift a huge wardrobe
as if it were light as a feather. Nearly as light, anyway. As they
took it in the house, a man came out. He was tall and thin and
slightly stooped, with a thatch of silver-gray hair. Must be Mr.
Bullfinch, Jerry thought, and wondered if he shouldn't leave before
being asked to. Jerry had learned that you never can tell about
people wanting you or not wanting you in their yards.

Mr. Bullfinch saw Jerry and walked toward him. He smiled with his
whole face, especially his eyes, and Jerry smiled back a bit shyly. "I
like to watch people moving in," Jerry said.

"So do I except when I'm the one being moved. Live around here, do
you? Seems a pleasant neighborhood."

"Next door. It _is_ a nice neighborhood. A few cranky people on this
street but not many. Say, what a whopper of a chair!"

The movers had taken an enormous brown leather chair out of the van
and were taking it in the front door.

"I have to tell them where I want it put. Come on in," Mr. Bullfinch
invited Jerry.

Jerry always enjoyed going in a strange house. He tagged after Mr.
Bullfinch as he directed the movers to deposit the big chair in front
of the fireplace in the den.

"Some chair! Is it for you to sit in?" asked Jerry.

"It's a remarkable chair. It does tricks. Runs by electricity," said
Mr. Bullfinch, taking an electric cord from the seat and unwinding it.
He looked around and found an outlet and put in the plug. "Want to try
it out?" he asked Jerry. "Sit down in the chair and press the button
on the right arm and see what happens."

Jerry was not at all sure he wanted to try out the tricks of the
chair. "I don't know if I have time right now," he said. Mr. Bullfinch
did not look like the sort of man who would install an electric
chair, the kind they have in penitentiaries, in his house and begin to
execute his neighbors the first day he moved in. Still, better be safe
than sorry, Jerry reasoned.

"I'll show you how it works," said Mr. Bullfinch, sitting down in the
chair. He pres