Honest, I couldn’t tell you which was funnier to look at, Pee-wee or that constable. Harry didn’t smile at all. There stood the kid, holding the big silver punch bowl in his two arms, and the silver teapot and the spoons and things, and the plush jewelry box piled inside it. I never saw him look so small as he did with that big load.
I NEVER SAW HIM LOOK SO SMALL AS HE DID WITH THAT BIG LOAD.
And the constable—g-o-o-d night! There he stood, gaping at Pee-wee, while the rest of us began laughing, all except Harry. He acted just as if nothing had happened at all. “Now, if there’s anything else missing in town,” he said, “just let us know, and we’ll get it. Speak while we’re here, because in about fifteen minutes we’re off for buried treasure. You see we used to make a specialty of German spies, but now there aren’t any; things are dull since the war. Any little job-lot of mysteries you want unravelled? No? Oh, very well. We make a specialty of murders and kidnappings and Bolsheviki plots; we like Bolsheviki plots best of all. But we’re not proud. We’re always willing to take a little burglary case to accommodate some one. All right, Pee-wee, forward march—up the steps—and lookout you don’t slip! Won’t you join us, Constable? The more the merrier.”
CHAPTER XVII—WE LET OUR YOUNG HERO DO THE TALKING
Gee whiz, I had to laugh; there stood Pee-wee with his arms around the big bowl and the other things piled inside it, away up to his neck. He looked awful funny.
“You leave it to me,” he said; “I know how to talk to a judge, because my father knows a man whose brother was a judge.”
“Trust us,” Harry told him; “we won’t say a word.”
“You have to handle judges a special way,” our young hero said.
Pretty soon the door opened, and there stood a girl about—oh, I don’t know, I guess she was about sixteen.