Last, Billy opened another bundle. Out dropped four square tin boxes, each with a cover and a handle.
“I’ve guessed it! I’ve guessed it!” Maida and Rosie screamed together. “It’s a telephone.”
“That’s the answer,” Billy confessed. He went from house to house fastening a box to the lower rope.
“Now when you want to say anything to Laura,” he said on his return, “just write a note, put it in the box, pull on the upper string and it will sail over to her window. Suppose you all run home and write something now. I’ll go over to Laura’s to see how it works.”
The children scattered. In a few moments, four excited little faces appeared at as many windows. The telephone worked perfectly. Billy handed Mrs. Lathrop the notes to deliver to Laura.
“Oh, Mr. Potter,” Mrs. Lathrop said suddenly, “there’s a matter that I wished to speak to you about. That little Flynn girl has lived in the family of Mr. Jerome Westabrook, hasn’t she?”
Billy’s eyes “skrinkled up.” “Yes, Mrs. Lathrop,” he admitted, “she lived in the Westabrook family for several years.”
“So I guessed,” Mrs. Lathrop said. “She’s a very sweet little girl,” she went on earnestly for she had been touched by the sight of Maida’s grief the day that she held Laura to the window. “I hope Mr. Westabrook’s own little girl is as sweet.”
“She is, Mrs. Lathrop, I assure you she is,” Billy said gravely.
“What is the name of the Westabrook child?”