Kit, closely questioned by Mr. Black Mayo Osborne, confessed that he had gone into the garden, and had hidden behind the arbor when he heard some one coming; he had kicked Scalawag, to drive him away; and—he finally owned—he had driven in the cow from the adjoining pasture.
He gave no reason except “because�; and Mr. Osborne shook his head and frowned. There was something back of this, he felt sure. What was it? Were there wanton mischief-makers in The Village? The burning of Broad Acres—was it an accident, caused by rats and matches, as was generally believed? He wondered, but he got no clews, and other matters were disturbing him. For the present, things went on their usual quiet way in The Village.
When the gardeners started to dig potatoes, Dick shrugged his shoulders and started off whistling, as if he were having a grand good time. But, to tell the truth, he was getting tired of these excursions to the mine. He continued them, at more and more infrequent intervals, chiefly to plague Anne and Patsy.
Time after time they had left gardening and Red Cross work and followed him. Sometimes he had turned across a field, and twisted and doubled—like an old red fox, to which Black Mayo compared him—and made a successful get-away.
Sometimes, in a teasing humor, he kept just far enough ahead to encourage them to continue the pursuit and led them over miles of rough country and back to The Village; then he would ask, with an exasperating grin, “Haven’t we had a lovely walk?�
Anne looked after him to-day and said, as often before, “Oh! I wish we could find out Dick’s secret.�
“If just we could!� Patsy replied; “but—well, sometimes I think we might as well give up. We can’t keep on forever trotting after him, with the Red Cross and Camp Feed Friend and the Canning Club and Happy Acres and all the other things there are to do.�
“Oh, no, Pats-pet! We’ll not give up,� Anne said decidedly. “There’s some way to manage it. But of course we mustn’t take time from the garden; not now, while there’s so much to do. The main thing is to make our garden beat those bragging boys’. Oh! I’m so glad I’m going to stay here this winter and see it through.�
On account of the housing shortage in Washington, Anne’s adoptive parents had given up their home to war workers, and Anne was to continue her studies this winter with her cousins in The Village; Mrs. Wilson was as good as a university for scholarship.
Dick went by Larkland as usual. His Cousin Mayo was silent and seemed preoccupied as they went to the pigeon cote.