“I am afraid dinner will be spoiled, if you wait any longer,” she said.
“Well, we’ll give it up,” said Frank, as he turned toward the house.
“No, we won’t,” shouted Bob. “Look here!”
He had picked up something from among the straw and dirt.
“What’s that?” cried Frank.
“A spoon, and it’s one of Mrs. Wright’s.”
“How do you know?”
“Because it’s just like the one she showed me. It has the same letter D on it.”
“Yes, she was a Dalmer afore she got married,” put in the old man.
“Perhaps there are more of them,” put in the woman.