"Some evening," Willard murmured to himself, not the rest of the world, but he sounded amiable.
"Willard."
"Well, kid,"
"There wasn't anybody in that house. Ed knew it."
"There might have been. They might have come home."
"But they didn't ... Willard, is this all there is to it?"
"What?"
"Hanging May-baskets. Throwing them down that way. I thought maybe they really hung them, on the doorknob—I thought——"
"Silly! Ed's going cross lots, and up the wood road to Larribees'. Good work. That will throw them off the track."
"Throw who off the track?"