“Well, I see you caught the rascal!” she commented grimly.
“We found him,” Mr. Hatfield corrected. “Jack wasn’t running away though. He said he intended to come back.”
“Jack, why do you do it?” the widow asked, taking the rifle from him. “Haven’t I been good to you?”
“Yes’m,” the boy responded, his eyes on the ground.
“I’ll fix you some victuals. You must be hungry.”
“I’ve had enough to eat. I’m sorry about taking so much from the refrigerator.”
The tight lines around Mrs. Jones’ mouth relaxed. “There! I reckon boys are all alike,” she remarked. “I had three of my own once. I never could break ’em of taking cookies from the jar.”
The widow cordially invited the Cubs into the kitchen. Mr. Hatfield declined the invitation for them.
“Mrs. Jones, here is something we wish to show you,” he said, exposing the rolled-up black gown to her gaze. “Did you ever see this dress before?”
“Land sakes! It’s the dress that disappeared from the shed!”