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MUCH ADO ABOUT PETER
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"This ain't no time for play," growled Peter, whirling toward the house and the telephone. "What's that?" He stopped as his eye lighted upon a vivid sheet of paper lying on the ground.
"It was pinned to the p-pillow," Annie sobbed.
Peter snatched it up and stared for a moment in blank amazement. The words were printed in staggering characters, a bright vermilion in tone.
A flash of illumination swept over Peter's face.
There was an old barn at the end of the lane that had been moved back when the new
