“He’s worse than any pirate,” sighed Ruth. “We’d know what to do with a real pirate.”
“I wonder?” murmured Neale, his eyes twinkling.
But Ruth ignored him. She thought she saw her duty, and was determined to do it. “I suppose we shall have to go back,” she hesitated.
“Oh, no, Ruthie!” begged the two little girls in chorus.
“I wouldn’t go back for that horrid little scamp!” snapped Agnes, her face flushing. “Sammy Pinkney, you are the worst boy!”
Sammy sniffed and looked at her. “I found that ring you lost that time, Aggie Kenway. ’Member?” he asked.
“But you are an awful nuisance,” pronounced Ruth, with conviction.
“You never would have knowed your hens was layin’ in Mr. Benjamin’s lot last week if I hadn’t ha’ told you, Ruthie Kenway—so there,” responded the youngster.
“And you told me that—that sick man was carrying a brick in his hat—and he wasn’t,” Dot put in faintly.
Sammy grinned at that; but he was prompt to say, too: “Well, who found all your dolls out on the grass where you’d played lawn party, and brought ’em in just before the thunder shower the other day? Heh?”