Part 12 (1/2)

”Sammy and Luke are,” agreed Dot.

”All but Neale,” said the loyal Agnes, her boy chum having departed. ”I don't see what this family would do without Neale O'Neil.”

In the morning the older sister's absence seemed to make quite as great a gap in the household of the old Corner House as at night. But Neale rushed in early with the morning paper to show Agnes their advertis.e.m.e.nt in print. Under the ”Lost and Found” heading appeared the following:

”FOUND:--Silver bracelet, antique design. Owner can regain it by proving property and paying for this advertis.e.m.e.nt. Apply Kenway, Willow and Main Streets.”

”It sounds quite dignified,” decided Agnes admiringly. ”I guess Ruth would approve.”

”Crickey!” e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Neale O'Neil, ”this is _one_ thing Ruth is not bossing. We did this off our own bat, Aggie.”

”Just the same,” ruminated Agnes, ”I wonder what Mr. Howbridge will say if he reads it?”

”I am glad,” said Neale with grat.i.tude, ”that my father doesn't interfere with what I do. And I haven't any guardian, unless it is dear old Con Murphy. Folks let me pretty much alone.”

”If they didn't,” said Agnes saucily, ”I suppose you would run away as you did from the circus.”

”No,” laughed her chum. ”One runaway in the neighborhood is enough.

Mr. Pinkney has been up half the night, he tells me, telephoning and sending telegrams. He has about made up his mind that Sammy hasn't gone in the direction of Pleasant Cove, after all.”

”We ought to help hunt for Sammy,” cried Agnes eagerly. ”Let us take Mrs. Pinkney in the auto, Neale, and search for that little rascal.”

”No. She will not leave the house. She wants to greet Sammy when he comes back--no matter whether it is day or night,” chuckled Neale. ”But Mr. Pinkney is going to get away from the office this afternoon, and we'll take him. He is afraid his wife will be really ill.”

”Poor woman!”

”She cannot be contented to sit down and wait for Sammy to turn up--as he always does.”

”You mean, he always gets turned up,” giggled Agnes. ”Somebody is sure to find him.”

”Well, then, it might as well be us,” agreed Neale. ”I'll tune up the engine, and see that the car is all right. We should be able to go over a lot of these roads in an afternoon. Sammy could not have got very far from Milton in two days, or less.”

CHAPTER X--ALL IS NOT GOLD THAT GLITTERS

Quite unsuspicious of the foregoing plans for his apprehension, Sammy Pinkney was journeying on, going steadily away from Milton, and traveling much faster now that he did not have to carry the extension-bag.

The boy had no idea who could have stolen his possessions; but he rubbed his knuckles in his eyes, forced back the tears, and pressed on, feeling that freedom even without a change of garments was preferable to the restrictions of home and all the comforts there to be found.

He walked two miles or more and was very hungry before he came to the first house. It stood just at the edge of the big wood in which Sammy had spent the night.

It was scarcely more than a tumbled-down hut, with broken panes of gla.s.s more common than whole ones in the windows, these apertures stuffed with hats and discarded garments, while half the bricks had fallen from the chimney-top. There were half a dozen barefooted children running about, while a very wide and red-faced woman stood in the doorway.

”Hullo, me bye!” she called to Sammy, as he lingered outside the broken fence with a longing eye upon her. ”Where be yez bound so airly in the marnin'?”

”I'm just traveling, Ma'am,” Sammy returned with much dignity.

”Could--could you sell me some breakfast?”

”Breakfast, is it?” repeated the smiling woman. ”Shure, I'd give yez it, if mate wasn't so high now. Come in me kitchen and sit ye down.