“I don’t see what I could have done with them,” reiterated Willard’s mother for the twentieth time.
“Maybe you shook ’em out the door when you shook the cloth,” suggested Mr. Morris. And his wife had to own that such a thing was quite possible, adding, however, “Only I’d been almost certain to have seen them when I cleared the dishes off. Are you sure you didn’t take them, Will?”
“I know he didn’t,” said Mr. Morris. “I remember seeing them lying right here when I left the room.”
“Well, then I did something with them, that’s certain,” murmured Mrs. Morris, looking dazedly about, “but I don’t see what!”
“I guess we’d better have supper,” said Willard’s father. “We can have another look afterward.”
So Mrs. Morris returned to her duties, while Willard, preparing hastily for the meal, returned to the room and continued the search. At the table he ate very little, and as soon as supper was over he began rummaging again. The search ultimately led from the dining-room to the parlor, from the parlor to the kitchen, from the kitchen to the hall closet and from there to the bedrooms upstairs. And at eight o’clock Mrs. Morris, lamp in hand, was peering about in the attic! At half past eight Willard went to the telephone and, calling Mr. Chase up, acknowledged defeat.
“You can’t find them?” came the teacher’s voice. “That’s too bad. Are you—er—are you quite sure you had them, Will?”
“Yes, sir, I am,” replied Willard a trifle shortly. “If you don’t believe me you can ask father.”
“Have you looked in the waste baskets and the ash can and—and those places?”