"Is that you, Baker!" called the maid, "We want one loaf of bread to-day!"
But there was no answer.
"It wasn't the baker," said Lizzie as she went on wringing out the clothes from the blue water. "I guess it was the children. But no—it couldn't have been them, either," she said, musingly, "they are at school. It must have been that dog Thump. Yes, that's who it was—that dog Thump."
But it wasn't Thump, as we know. It was Racky the rocker, running away.
And, having safely reached the ground at the foot of the kitchen steps, without breaking any of its legs, the chair began to sway to and fro so as to travel across the yard, toward the back fence, where there was a large hole.
Rodney and Nat had made this hole by taking off some of the boards. The boys found it quicker to get into the back lots through the hole in the fence than by going around the corner of the street.
"And I'm glad they left the boards off," said Racky. "I can get out that way. Once in the open lots, I'll go so fast they shall never catch me to bring me back.
"I hope no one in the houses next door, on either side, sees me," thought Racky. "If they do, they may call to Grandma and she will come out and bring me in."
But the only person who saw Racky in the yard was Dabby, the cook in the Trent house, next door, where Rodney and Addie lived. And Dabby caught a glimpse of the rocker between the sheets on the line. She knew the old chair belonged to Grandma Harden.
"I guess they've been cleaning the chair cushions with gasoline," thought Dabby, "and they put them out in the yard to air."