No sooner was she out of sight than Scoop hissed at me:
“There’s a twin brother, Jerry. Peter Matson. It’s the soap man, all right.”
“Jinks!” I said, keeping my eyes on the pantry door.
“The last record on the page is what stumps me.”
I could hear Mrs. Kelly coming.
“Yes?” I said, breathing hard.
“ ‘Frances Matson, granddaughter, born 1910,’ ” recited Scoop. “I never heard of a granddaughter. Did you, Jerry?”
Before I could reply Mrs. Kelly came into the room with a brown jar in her hands.
“Help yourselves,” she invited, setting the cookie jar on the table.
I ate ten cookies and Scoop ate eleven. He made a pig of himself I thought.