“Not Joe Dawson?” cried the boy.
“Yes. If that’s his real name. Oh, Neale! Let’s have him arrested.”
“Cricky!” ejaculated the surprised youth. “Arrest your aunt!”
Agnes burst out laughing at that—serious as she was. “Aunt Sarah Maltby certainly did not steal Mr. Collinger’s motor car,” she said.
“Well. We don’t know that Saleratus Joe did,” grinned Neale. “Come on home. Don’t cry any more, Dot. Just the same I would like to punch that fellow who threw down your doll.”
“Can’t we find out who he is—all about him?” demanded Agnes.
“Maybe. That Mr. Maynard knows him, I s’pose. I could ask him. I used to clean Mr. Maynard’s yard and sidewalks for him. I’ll see,” promised Neale O’Neil.
When the trio reached the Corner House that day, however, they found a subject afoot that put out of Neale’s and Agnes’ minds for the time being all thought of the stealing of Mr. Collinger’s car. And yet the county surveyor’s aunt had something to do with this very interesting topic under discussion.
Mrs. Heard was present, having a neighborly cup of tea with Mrs. MacCall, who was quite as much a friend of the family as she was housekeeper. Mr. Howbridge had chanced to drop in as well, and Ruth had arrived home ahead of the other Corner House girls.
“Oh, Aggie!” cried Ruth, running out of the sitting room where tea was being served, Uncle Rufus having rolled the service table in there at Mrs. MacCall’s request. “Just guess!”