“There, or Bronx Park, every pleasant Sunday,” she replied, her brown eyes dancing with the joy of the beautiful day. “I am kept in the store so much that I take every chance I get to see the trees, and the green grass.”
“So do I,” said Larry, walking along at her side. “Are you going anywhere in particular?”
“I am—yes,” she answered, and there was a smile on her lips.
“Oh, then don’t let me keep you,” spoke Larry, a bit stiffly.
“I am going to feed the elephants peanuts,” she answered, with a laugh. “I do it every Sunday.”
“Oh, then, perhaps you won’t mind if I come along,” went on the young reporter. “I have some peanuts left, and—well, I am fond of elephants.”
“Come on,” she challenged. “There is one big fellow that seems to know me. Or else it’s the peanuts I bring him.”
“I should prefer to think it was yourself,” said Larry boldly. “Well, we’ll see what the elephant thinks of my peanuts,” and they walked along together, laughing and chatting like two children.
Larry felt light-hearted and care-free. He had almost forgotten about the bank mystery, and how much depended on him to solve it, until Miss Mason asked him:
“Have you found the black-bearded man, who bought the valise of me?”