“But what?” insisted Freda, who now sat beside the old sailor on the step. “I know all about the business, you know.”
“Do come in, Denny,” pleaded Cora. “It will be easier to talk in the living room. We young folks can go into the dining room and start our dinner while you settle it all quietly among yourselves.”
“Thank you, Miss,” Denny replied, promptly accepting Cora’s invitation. “That will be the best way, I guess.”
Famished as everyone seemed to be, the visit of Denny somewhat shifted the interest from appetites, and curiosity strayed from the dining room toward the living room.
“What can have happened?” whispered Belle to Marita. “Denny looks positively—angry.”
“Doesn’t he?” Marita replied. “I suppose it is something about Freda’s property; don’t you think so?”
“Likely.”
The voices from the other room, that had been subdued, now rose in tones of surprise. Freda and her mother were both trying to talk at the same time, evidently.
Cora was serving the dinner and endeavoring not to spoil it. The boys were too hungry and too glad to eat to allow any interruption to interfere with their pleasure, but the girls were prone to whisper, and even to listen when a voice penetrated the room.
“It was them!” they heard Denny exclaim, “and I’ll have the law on them!”