“It doesn’t seem possible,” he said, “that old Mr. Matson has been dead three years. How the time flies!”
“Two years,” corrected Mrs. Kelly.
“No,” said Scoop, acting sure of himself, “he has been dead three years.”
Well, they argued back and forth, and finally, to prove that she was right, she brought out the family Bible.
“There,” she said, in an I-told-you-so tone of voice, laying the Bible on the kitchen table. “ ‘Born in 1850; died in 1920.’ ”
“Where do you see that?” inquired Scoop, putting his nose down close to the page. I knew that he wasn’t looking where her finger pointed. Not at all! Having worked her into bringing out the family Bible, the one that the puzzle maker had owned, he was squinting all over the page, taking in everything, births and deaths and marriages.
Finally he straightened. [[99]]
“You’re right, Mrs. Kelly,” he waggled, giving in.
The woman beamed in her victory.
“Sure,” she said, in her kindly way, “you lads both have a hungry look. Let me bring out my cookie jar,” and she bustled into the pantry.