“Who’s that?” asked Mr. Martin, coming back from the road, holding Teddy’s hand. For his little boy had run down and told him to come back, though Teddy forgot to say what for. “What’s the matter?” asked Mr. Martin.
“Oh, it’s Trouble again,” answered his wife. “He slipped away after we had finished our ice-cream, and now I can’t see him, though he just now called to us.”
And, once more, came the voice of Trouble, saying:
“I dot him! Tum an’ det him, Teddy!”
“He’s back of my stand!” cried the ice-cream boy. “His voice comes from there.”
“Come on! Let’s look!” exclaimed Uncle Ben.
“Here I is!” came the voice.
“Why—why—that sounded just as if it came from that dog kennel!” exclaimed Mrs. Martin, pointing to one not far away.
“Is there a dog in there?” asked Uncle Ben of the boy.
“Yes. At least, a puppy,” was the answer.