“Butch, you naughty monkey, what did you find? Come here, Butch,” called Bill.
Butch was delighted with his prize. He raced off to the little cottage, and there he crawled under the porch, where he buried his loot. He came back to the children clapping his paws together in great satisfaction.
Davey picked him up, and carried him back to the cottage porch. “This time be sure and lock the screen door,” called Billy.
“What do you suppose he found in that purse?” said Jane.
“Oh, it was just some old junk.”
“No, it wasn’t old. It was new. I saw it. It was a good purse, and it was filled with something.”
Billy didn’t answer. He stood there looking puzzled, like a fat-cheeked question mark.
“I don’t get you, Janie.”
“Just the same, Bill, I wish that Butch hadn’t taken the trouble to hide it. Do you suppose we could find where he buried it?”
Billy didn’t look so puzzled any more. “Of course we could find it. Butch never buries anything very deep. He just makes a shallow hole, and covers it over loosely with leaves and grass and stuff. I tell you what let’s do. Let’s go down and get Butch, and send him under the little cottage. We’ll tell him to fetch it back for us.”