from which, he assured the audience, would come forth a beautiful
pudding, nicely baked in a stovepipe hat, which he would wear on his own
head to prove that there was nothing in it. A sentence which had a
double meaning, and to which Jonas fully assented in every particular
before the evening was over.

Well, the dish that held the batter was poured into the hat, apparently.
Of course it was really poured into a tin which exactly fitted into the
hat, and which contained also a second tin concealing the pudding,
tipped into it by Tom at the proper moment. Then the next part of the
trick consisted in placing the hat on Jonas's head, while he was to
strut about the stage jauntily. Then the hat would be removed, and lo!
in the centre of it would be found the pudding nicely baked.

[Illustration: THEN THE WHOLE HAT SEEMED TO LET GO LIKE A BROKEN
RESERVOIR.]

Now, whether Tom made some mistake in getting those tins canted into the
hat properly or not will never be known. Perhaps he pulled the hat down
too hard over Jonas's brows when he put it on him, and so loosened
something. At any rate, Jonas had not taken two steps before a streak of
batter was seen running down over his face. Then the whole hat seemed to
let go like a broken reservoir, and the milk and molasses and egg and
flour streamed down in a shower over the miserable Jonas.

He tried to pull the hat off, and did so, leaving on his head, however,
the tins, which gave him the most astonishing appearance possible. Tom
fell back on the table in an agony of laughter, and in doing so sat down
on the dish that had contained the batter. The audience simply cried
itself hoarse with laughter. Sally Conners screamed with all her might,
and all the farmers' boys, who were present for miles around, haw-hawed,
and the old folks almost died looking at poor Jonas. In the midst of it
all, I, Peter Samuels, stage director, drew the curtain, and with the
other two performers stole down the back stairs, and made a run for
home, and so the great sleight-of-hand performance came to an end.

The Colby people never forgot that performance. We never did, either.
Uncle Job kept Tom's watch until he left for college, and then gave it
back to him, and Tom bought him a new silver time-piece. The widow Colby
and her grandchildren realized a good sum from the entertainment, and
the next vacation we three boys spent in the city. I am afraid Jonas has
lost the favor of Sally Conners, for she