a grin. “Where were you Dickums, when the storm broke?”
“In the preserves.”
“In the what?”
“Preserve closet under the stairs. I heard everything nicely. I thought I’d die!”
“Did, did you?” asked Roy, sarcastically. “You always did have a crazy sense of humor. What are you going to do?”
“Me? Go back to the boat and have supper, of course,” replied Dick, with a wicked grin. “It’s a fine night, isn’t it? See the new moon?”
“Don’t be a ninny,” said Roy, impatiently. “Do something! He may be back any moment.”
“Oh, no, he’s good for an hour; he said so. What’ll I do—shoot the dog or burn the house down?”
“Find a ladder, you blathering idiot,” Chub laughed. “There ought to be one at the barn.”
“There is. I looked.”
“Well, why didn’t you bring it?”
“It’s too short.”
There was silence after this for a moment. Then,
“How much too short?” asked Roy.
