“Yes, and I remember a year or so ago some of the gypsy women came around our place to tell fortunes,” added Dave. “They went into the kitchen to tell the fortunes of the cook and the up-stairs girl, and two days later the folks found that two silver spoons and a gold butter-knife were missing. We made some inquiries, but we never got any satisfaction.”
“Looking for stuff like that is like looking for a needle in a haystack,” was Phil’s comment.
“Oh, say! Speaking of a needle in a haystack puts me in mind of a story,” burst out Shadow.
“What! another?” groaned Roger in mock dismay; and all of the others present held up their hands as if in horror.
“This is just a little one,” pleaded the former story-teller of Oak Hall. “A man once heard a lady speak about trying to find the needle in the haystack. ‘Say, madam,’ said the man, very earnestly, ‘a needle in a haystack wouldn’t be no good to nobody. If one of the animals got it in his throat, it would ’most kill ’im.’”
“Wow!”
“Does anybody see the point?” questioned Roger.
“What do you mean—the point of the needle?” demanded Dave.
“If you had the eye you could see better,” suggested Ben.
“I don’t care, it’s a pretty good joke,” protested the story-teller.