“Perhaps he was her beau,” said Eddie mournfully.
Dee chuckled. “You never saw Anna, did you? I thought not. But before we give this up, I am going down to show this to Anna and find out what it all means.”
“Perhaps he was a spy,” offered Eddie.
“You will never get over that spy stuff, will you, kid?” said Bill.
Dee, hurrying to Anna with the notebook, found himself baffled again.
“That is nothing,” she said. “Some foolish one has written nonsense. What does it say? Nothing but something about young shivering maples and eyebrows and a nose and mouth and the swift running river. A child’s book. Throw it away!”
“It is not mine,” replied Dee. “I shall have to return it. I wish you would tell me just exactly what it says.”
For answer Anna shrugged her shoulders and laughed. But after Dee had gone back to the boys, Anna frowned and shook her head.
“I wonder what they meant, those words,” she whispered to herself in a strange tongue. She shook her old head, and shivered. “Danger; danger! God grant it does not touch the boy!”