“Perhaps that would be a good idea,” she admitted. “You might try it, anyhow, and see.”
So Leroy was fortified against the rain in oilskins and rubbers, and he and Mr. Anderson set forth together in quest of the dog. The small boy was highly pleased with the adventure; he did not often have an opportunity to frolic in the rain, and he made the most of it, caracoling before Anderson like a sportive colt. Sandy, too, would have enjoyed it, but he was tied up.
“One dog at a time,” said Anderson. “Now, young feller, let’s hear about it.”
“Aw, it was nothin’,” Leroy replied with admirable nonchalance. “Jist a dog ran up an’ bit me. I mean, I was runnin’, an’ I guess I stepped on his paw an’ he bit me.”
“Did you tell your mother you stepped on the dog?”
“I dunno what all I told her,” Leroy admitted. “Anyway, what’s it matter? Had to do somethin’ to keep her quiet.”
Anderson considered that it was not his place to rebuke this child, and he let the disrespect pass.
“Where did it happen?”
“Long ways from here, all right!” said the boy, triumphantly.
He spoke no more than the truth. It was a very long way. They went on and on, down long, quiet suburban streets, lined with dripping trees and houses with no signs of life. They went on and on.