“But the junk man,” said Billie. “Your talk flies all over the place, Dicky-Dick.”
I could not help laughing at her funny, impatient expression. Then I said, “The Martins got him a young, strong horse, and told him how to take care of it. It is not a charity, Billie—the stables, I mean. By taking a good many horses, the company can make money out of it.”
“Are there any horses in the old barn now?” asked Billie.
“Not for any length of time. It is to be torn down and a garage put up there.”
“Just as well,” said Billie, “but what are you staring at, Dicky-Dick?”
“At Squirrie,” I said. “He just came off the roof and went into the old barn. I hope he is not after young birds. Billie, I think I’ll go have a talk with him. I’ve been longing to get him alone for some time.”
“Better let him alone,” said Billie warningly. “He wouldn’t mind you.”
“I’m going to try,” I said, “and if you will excuse me, I’ll leave you for a little while.”
Billie shook her head, but I was determined, and, flying into the sitting room, for we were in Mrs. Martin’s bedroom, I went out through the open window and flew behind our house to the old barn.