All of a sudden Westy (gee, he’s a fiend for noticing things)—he said, “Dora Dane Daring, the boy scouts have to hand it to you; you’ve done a good turn, that’s sure. This house looked like a hard proposition. All we have to do now is climb over that fence in back. We all admit you’re a heroine. But there’s one thing I’d like to ask you. Do you notice that big silver cup on the sideboard has D D D engraved on it? Maybe scouts aren’t so much as warriors but they’re observant. I was wondering if you know whose initials those are?”
At that all the girls started laughing.
“It’s your own house!” Pee-wee shouted. “Now you see how scouts are observant. What did I tell you?”
She said, “It is not my own house; so there, Mr. Canary Bird Harris.”
“Whose house is it?” Westy said.
“It’s my father’s, Mr. Smarty,” she said.
“No sooner said than stung,” I told Westy.
Hunt said, “What difference does it make whose house it is as long as we go through it? We have to give you the credit anyway.”
“Is your father home?” Warde asked her.
She said, “Nobody’s home but myself—and the butler.”