“Yes, that’s where I got it. It’s good candy. I suppose you’ll give your cousin some when you get home.”
“Oh, she hasn’t come home. I couldn’t—” said the little girl with virtuous satisfaction.
“Hasn’t got home? Why, where is she?” plied her questioner.
“Why, we don’t know. Daddy’s most crazy. Say, if you know where she is you better tell me, fer there’s something ’bout her having to be home for Judge Peterson to read the will and give us our house. Do you know where cousin Joyce is?”
“Why, I might be able to find out, kiddie,” said the oily voice. “Where do you live? You tell me where you live and I’ll let you know if I find she’s in the place I think she is.”
“Why, I live right up there in that white house with green blinds,” said Dorothea eagerly. “I wish you’d let me know tonight. I’ll come out to the gate and wait for you if you will. Daddy would be awful pleased with me if I told him where Joyce was. I think he’d get me a new bicycle if I did.”
“Well, we’ll see what can be done,” said Tyke wickedly. “Here’s yer candy, kid, and p’raps ye’ll hear from me soon.”
Tyke handed over the candy and Dorothea flew home, pausing behind the lilac bush to extract one luscious mouthful from the box, then rushing up to her room to secrete the rest where Junior would not find it, under the mattress of her bed.
Tyke went on his evil way rejoicing. Shrewd little Lib Knox saw him as he passed her house and scuttled behind the hedge, sticking out her tongue behind his back as he passed, and thought she had frustrated his intentions, while five blocks away Dorothea was gorging herself on Dutch creams and wondering why Lib didn’t like that nice young man.