“But what are you doing?” asked Father Blossom. “That’s more important. Does Mother know where you are, Bobby?”
“No, not exactly,” admitted Bobby.
“I’ve just left your father, Fred,” said Father Blossom, recognizing Fred in the dim light. “Does he know you are uptown?”
Fred stood on one foot and then the other and finally muttered that he supposed he didn’t.
Father Blossom touched the knotted handkerchief Bobby carried, gently.
“What is this, Son?” he asked.
“Things,” said Bobby uncomfortably. “My knife and the kneaded rubber, and—and some more things.”
“Are you running away?” said Father Blossom and the suddenness of the question took Bobby by surprise. The other boys stared in astonishment at Bobby’s father. How in the world had he managed to guess so quickly?
“I see you are,” said Father Blossom, as no one answered. “And what are you running away from, boys?”
“Mr. Bennett,” said Bobby jerkily. “He says he’s going to have us arrested.”