“I know,” sighed Margaret. “And wasn’t it just grand! But now,” she sighed, “now, you’ll have to tell father.”
“Yes, I will—right away.”
Marjory did tell. They had not been in the house a minute before she told of their loss.
“Where’s Johnny Thompson?” their father asked.
“We—we don’t know.”
“Don’t know?”
“We haven’t seen him for two hours.”
“Well, that settles it. I might have known when I hired an adventurer to look after my thoroughbreds and guard my children that I’d be sorry. But he was a splendid man with the horses; seemed to think of ’em as his own; and as for boxing, I never saw a fellow like him.”
“Yes, and Daddy, we liked him,” chimed in Marjory. “We liked him a lot.”
“Well,” the father said thoughtfully, “guess I ought to put a man on his trail and bring him back. Probably went off with the circus. But I won’t. He’s been a soldier, and a good one, I’m told. That excuses a lot. And then if you go dangling a few thousand dollars on a bit of gold chain, what can you expect? Better go get your supper and then run on to bed.”