CHAPTER XVII
THE NEWEST TRICK OF ALL
"Here's where old Miss Lowthry lives," muttered Ned Allen, halting before a gate leading into the grounds surrounding a cosy little cottage.
"It wouldn't be very manly to do anything to scare lone women, would it?" demanded Dick.
"She's an old maid," protested Toby.
"That's no crime," insisted Dick.
"She has no use for boys," breathed Ben Alvord, complainingly.
"From some things that boys do, I don't altogether blame her," chuckled young Prescott.
"And—say! Don't Miss Lowthry hate babies!" grunted Wrecker Lane. "You remember Fred Porter? His folks used to live in that next house. When Fred was a baby they say he used to cry something awful. Well, once in the summer, after Fred had cried every night for a week, and Miss Lowthry had to hear it all through her open windows, what did she do but go to the health board and ask that the Porters be ordered to make their baby stop crying. There was an awful fuss about it, and Miss Lowthry made some talk about all babies being brats."