“But, I no like! The honest Kenway say here, in the paper—”
As he began to tap upon the newspaper again Neale, who was a sturdy youth, crowded him out upon the veranda of the old Corner House.
“Now, go!” advised Neale, when he heard the click of the door latch behind him. “You’ll make nothing by lingering here and talking. There’s your horse starting off by himself. Better get him.”
This roused the junk dealer’s attention. The horse was tired of standing and was half a block away. Costello uttered an excited yelp and darted after his junk wagon.
Agnes let Neale inside the house again. She was much relieved.
“There! isn’t this a mess?” she said. “I am glad you thought of Mr. Howbridge. But I do wish Ruth had been at home. She would have known just what to say to that funny little man.”
“Humph! Maybe it would have been a good idea if she had been here,” admitted Neale slowly. “Ruth is awfully bossy, but things do go about right when she is on the job.”
“We’ll have to see Mr. Howbridge—”
“But that can wait until to-morrow morning,” Neale declared. “We can’t do so this afternoon in any case. I happen to know he is out of town. And we have promised Mr. Pinkney to take him on a hunt for Sammy.”
“All right. It is almost noon. You’d better go and wash your face, Neale,” and she began to giggle at him.