“But if Brady had it stolen, why hasn’t the car been found?” Neale put in, wonderingly.
“I told you before,” said Mrs. Heard, promptly. “They expected to find those road maps. And I guess they didn’t find ’em,” she added, with a nod of satisfaction.
“You may be right, Mrs. Heard,” agreed Mr. Maynard, but evidently desirous of saying no more.
He handed the Alice-doll back to Dot, who, with Tess, had not been much interested in this discussion, of course; and he picked up his fishing rod to depart.
“I am sorry I did not happen along before you ate your luncheon,” he said, smiling. “I could have supplied you with a nice mess of yellow perch.”
“Thank you, Mr. Maynard,” said Agnes, with a naughty twinkle in her eye. “I’m afraid we should have had to refuse them, for Mrs. Heard does not approve of fishing.”
“Goodness! but I am fond of fish, just the same,” said their chaperone, honestly.
“What would you suggest as the least cruel way of capturing fish?” Mr. Maynard asked, soberly.
“How about seining them and then chloroforming each fish?” whispered Neale to Agnes.
But the widow laughed, saying to the fisherman: