“Joe wouldn’t let me go downtown with him that last day,” said the little lad, his lip trembling as if with an old grievance. “He said he was going to meet Jack Popella——”
“Jack Popella! That boy!” cried Dorothy, springing to her feet. “Oh, Roger, are you sure?”
CHAPTER IV
ON THE TRAIL
Roger looked chagrined and more than a little frightened. The fright was caused by his sister’s vehemence, the chagrin because he had unwittingly “told on” Joe. In the code of Roger no crime was as bad as that of “telling tales” on one’s mates. He had spoken before he thought. It is so hard for a small boy not to speak before he thinks!
But Dorothy was on her feet now, her cheeks blazing, and he knew he would have to tell her the truth, not keeping back any of the story. Roger gave a resigned sigh and braced himself to answer questions. But Dorothy asked only one of him. That was a reiterated and breathless:
“Roger, are you sure?”
Roger nodded miserably, and to his surprise Dorothy turned suddenly and left the room. Roger stared after her wide-eyed. He was still miserable, but he was intensely curious as well.
“I wouldn’t be in Joe’s shoes, not for anything!” he assured himself, as he returned to the window. “And I suppose he’ll just about murder me when he finds out I went and told on him. It was his fault, anyway,” he added, in an effort at self-justification. “I told him he oughtn’t to go with that fresh Popella kid, and so did Dorothy. My, but I—I wish Joe would come back!”
Meantime Dorothy rushed upstairs. Meeting Tavia outside the door of her room, she brushed past her almost rudely. If it had not been so late she would have gone downtown immediately.
The fact that Joe had been with Jack Popella on the day of the fire augmented her fears immeasurably. Popella was a young Italian lad with a not very savory reputation, and Dorothy had been alarmed when, on several occasions, she had seen Joe with him.