“Yes, I know her,” replied Mary Louise. “I——”
“You been in the house now?”
“Yes,” admitted Mary Louise.
“Anything gone?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“That’s lucky,” remarked the young man. “I come around last night about six o’clock, same as I do every night, and I seen a window was broke on the side of the house. But I didn’t see nobody prowlin’ around, so I just nailed a board across it. I’m still watchin’ fer that guy that come in a car. You kin tell Mrs. Ferguson he ain’t come back yet.”
“What guy?” inquired Mary Louise, feeling more at ease now, since this young man evidently regarded her as one of Mrs. Ferguson’s gang of girls.
“That fellow that drove up here last Sunday night,” was the reply. “Didn’t Mrs. Ferguson tell you?”
“I haven’t seen Mrs. Ferguson to talk to,” she stammered, hardly able to keep from laughing.
“Well, this guy meant trouble, I’m a-thinkin’. He drove up here in a car with a dame alongside of him. I hid in a tree when I heard the car comin’, and when it was under the tree I dropped a rock on the dame’s head. Knocked her out, and the guy had to rush her off to a doctor.”