“I could force it apart,” said Tom thoughtfully, “but it’s too small for me to get a grip on. What we need is a file. You got one about the place somewhere?”
“Does your father keep a tool chest handy?” demanded Gran of Sally Rose.
“I think—in the barn—out the back way through the garden,” Sally Rose whispered.
“Go find it, Johnny,” ordered Tom.
Johnny dashed for the stairway, and the Derryfield lad walked to the window and stood there with his hands behind him, gazing into the summer night. Nothing could be done until Johnny came back, and he had no wish to embarrass the poor girl further by staring at her.
He looked at the gable windows of the house across the street, and then down the narrow way that led to the market place. Then he craned his neck at what he saw, and felt a little smile crooking the corners of his mouth. Miss Catherine Greenleaf was coming hot-foot home from somewhere, and he guessed he’d see she got a proper welcome. He turned back to Gran who still stood in front of Sally Rose, tapping her slippered foot on the pine floor.
“Think I’ll go help Johnny hunt for the file,” he said.
He stepped into the taproom of the Bay and Beagle just as Kitty entered from the street. He had the advantage, for he had expected the meeting. She stopped still and gave a little gasp, but he spoke calmly enough.
“You ought to stay to home when you have company, Miss Kitty,” he rebuked her mildly.
Kitty recovered herself quickly, lifted her head, and smiled.