“Are you sure you locked the door last night, Bunny?” his father asked him, as Sue picked up Whitefeet to pet her.
“Oh, yes,” was the answer. “I’m sure, ’cause it was locked this morning. Anyway, I remember dropping the key after I took it out of the lock last night.”
Mr. Brown looked all around the shed which was used to store kindling for the fires. Then he stepped over to the window in the back wall of the place and tried it. The window was of the swinging type, hinged at the top, like those in your cellar.
“Was this window fastened from the inside last night, Bunny?” asked Mr. Brown.
“Why—I don’t know,” was the answer. “I guess I don’t ever fasten that window. Patter couldn’t get out there; could he?”
“Isn’t your dog a pretty good jumper?” went on Mr. Brown.
“Oh, he’s a fine jumper,” said Sue. “You ought to see him jump up on Toby’s back.”
Mr. Brown pointed to a box under the partly opened window.
“Is it any higher from there to the window than from the ground to Toby’s back?” he asked.
“It’s about the same,” Bunny answered.