“What?”
“Unless Dick turns up. I don’t believe he’s gone off very far, do you?” Roy’s reply was interrupted by the clatter of wheels and they went back to the window in time to see Mr. Ewing rattle by in the buggy. He looked up and grinned malevolently at the faces in the window.
Roy waved down to him airily. “Good-by, Pop!” he called.
The farmer cut the horse savagely with the whip and was out of sight around the corner of the house.
“I don’t suppose it does any good to sass him,” said Chub, “but it gives me a lot of satisfaction.” He went over and kicked the door and was rewarded with a deep growl from Carlo. “Dear little doggie is still at his post,” he said. He bent and put his mouth to the key-hole. “Carlo,” he called softly, “dear little dogums! I’d like to wring your blooming neck, do you hear? You do hear? Well, think about it, will you?” He walked back to the window, whistling cheerfully. Roy, seated on the edge of the bed, scowled.
“Don’t be an ass,” he said, grumpily.
“Why not? What’s the use of making a trag-
