By that time the children were gathered around Dad and were all talking at once.
“Please get it down for us!”
“Mom wouldn’t let us go up there.”
“Please Daddy, can we get it now?”
“Daddy, may I go up with you?”
“Let me, Daddy, please!”
Daddy laughed and put up his arms to defend himself. “Help, help!” he cried. He finally got the story all straightened out, and he was very much interested.
“Just wait till I get some old work pants on,” he said, “and I’ll go up there and look for it while it’s still daylight.”
Billy ran to get a ladder, and the rest of the family gathered around to watch the excitement. Daddy soon came bounding up the rock garden steps in his old work pants. They were frayed and faded and there were spots of at least six different colors of paint, not counting cement, varnish and chair mending glue, but they were Dad’s favorite pants.
He called to Davey. “Send that rascal Butch up here,” he said. He climbed up to the roof of the porch. Butchie scampered up after him, but either he had forgotten where he hid the purse, or else he didn’t want Daddy to find it, because they looked and looked, and Daddy even pried up pieces of roofing, but there was no purse.