Grace handed over the much-criticized little missive. She read aloud:
"LITTLE SCOUT BANDIT:
"I hate to spoil all your pretty knots, but I can't stay tied up any longer. I am taking the rope along, and some day I hope to lasso you in return. You gave me a merry chase after my bag—quite a little runner you are. When I chance this way again I will look for an answer in our hollow rock. Good luck, Scout Bandit—
"THE VICTIM."
"There!" exclaimed Madaline, "only an educated man could write that!"
"But many wicked men are wonderfully educated!" Grace insisted on worrying.
"He seems jolly," mused Cleo.
"All tramps joke," said Grace.
"Well, if you want a tramp, have one," laughed Cleo. "We won't mind,
Gracie."
"I'm not Gracie, and I hate tramps. I tried to be nice to one when I was a little girl. Mother was giving him pie and coffee, and I said it was hard for men to be tramps. He turned right around and hissed: 'You're too gabby!' That's the way tramps appreciate kindness."