“I guess I’ll go,” he said, moving down the steps. “If I can help you in any way, Miss Simmons, please tell me.”
“No, Bob,” replied the old maid, “there is nothing you can do. I am greatly obliged for what you have done. I’ll have a little change for you when I see you again.”
Bob went away slowly. He did not at all like the looks of things.
“Sort of funny,” he thought. “She has got those letters back, she says. How did she get them? I’ll bet I know. That tramp found them.”
Bob walked along, figuring out his own ideas.
“I feel pretty sure that tramp told me a story,” he said to himself. “I was goose enough to tell him about the letters and Miss Simmons. He had the letters all the time he was pumping me on the porch of the Dunbar place. Then he came to Miss Simmons and made the poor woman pay a lot for them. How much, I wonder? I hope she wasn’t foolish enough to let the fellow rob her.”
Bob had promised Miss Simmons that he would say nothing about the letters. A few minutes later he saw Frank and Sammy coming down the street.
“I wish I could tell them about Miss Simmons, and see what they think about it,” he mused. “I can’t do it, though, and keep my word. Hello, fellows, which way?” he hailed, as he came up to his chums.
“We’re going up to Mr. Dolby’s,” said Sammy.
“What for?” asked Bob.