Unhooking the screen door Ted let his dog out. With a bounding leap Nero cleared the steps and dashed around the house to the chimney corner.
“Look!” screamed Nancy, “there—goes—a—man!”
As she pointed to the farthest corner of the lot, where the fence was broken down to admit a short cut to the avenue, they saw a man, just stepping through the brush.
“Mr. Sanders!” exclaimed Ted. “I see his bald head!”
“Mr. Sanders,” Nancy repeated. “What can he have been doing here?”
“That’s what Nero is trying to find out,” replied Ted, dryly. “Let’s see how he’s making out. He’s stopped barking. Maybe—he’s—got—it.”
It took but a few moments to reach the side of the house, where the old-fashioned stone foundation was broken by a place, through which the ashes from the fireplace had once been cleaned out. Here sat Nero. He wagged his tail happily as Ted came up, and he now seemed perfectly satisfied and contented.
“What is it Nero?” Nancy coaxed patting the dog in a most friendly way. He was evidently winning her affection as well as Ted’s.
But Ted knew best how to follow the animal’s lead. He was down on his knees in front of the mossy stones and had his ear cocked to the small iron door.
