The judge said, kind of laughing, “But you must remember the chief isn’t a boy scout, so you’ll have to forgive him. And you boys will get three hundred dollars, it seems.”
“A lot we care about that,” I said. “We want this little fellow to stay with us. Findings is keepings; everybody knows that’s the rule. We’ve got a lot of room up at our house. I should worry about three hundred dollars. And we’ve got a private alarm and fire extinguishers and everything, so it’s all right. And my sister likes kids, too, but she hates caterpillars. Most everything I want——”
Good night, that was as far as I got. All of a sudden, who should I see but my mother, right there, putting her arms around me, and all that, and giving the inventor a good hug. She said he should go home with her and be a bandit—that’s just what she said. Gee whiz, I guess the kid thought a cyclone struck him.
Mr. Brownell said, “Look out for the matches.”
My mother said, “He shall have an electric light.”
“Will it have a handle to turn it out?” the kid piped up.
The judge said he didn’t know but he would remand (that means put) the inventor in the custody of my mother till they heard from the Home. Gee whiz, I never even knew my mother was there until that minute.
The kid said to my mother, “And I’ll take you in my new car down in the field.”
“Good night,” I said to Westy; “the bandit has taken the car.”
Outside a whole lot of people crowded around and wanted to get a look at the inventor. He was some famous inventor, all right. He was clutching his box of matches in one hand and Submarine Sam in the other, and he looked about as big as a speck. My father was there, and, oh, gee, but he looked happy. He said, “We’d have a famous inventor and a famous discoverer in the house.” Maybe he meant my mother, hey?