A STEALTHY RASCAL
"Did you really say pie, Bob?" asked Jimmy in a rapturous voice.
"And apple pie at that? Or was it all only a beautiful dream?"
"There's only one way to find out, and that's to go and see," said
Bob. "Last man up gets the smallest piece," and he made a dash for
the stairs, closely followed by the others. Poor Jimmy, in spite of
a surprising burst of speed on his part, was the last one up, and
arrived out of breath, but ready to argue against Bob's dictum.
"Don't you know that if there's a small piece it's up to the host to
take it?" he asked Bob, who by that time had secured the pie and was
cutting it. "If you were really polite you wouldn't eat any of that
pie at all. You'd give all your time to seeing that we had plenty."
"Yes, but I'm not that polite," said Bob. "I think I deserve credit
for not waiting till you had all gone home and then eating the whole
thing myself. That's probably what you'd do, Doughnuts, if you were
in my place."
"I wouldn't either," disclaimed Jimmy indignantly.
"Of course he wouldn't eat it after we'd gone," grinned Herb.
"And if you coax me real hard, I'll tell you why."
"All right, I'll bite," said Joe. "Why wouldn't Doughnuts eat the pie
after we'd gone home?"
"Because he would have eaten it all before we even got here," replied
Herb, with a shout of laughter. "Ask me a harder one next time."
"I suppose you think that's real smart, don't you?" remarked Jimmy
sarcastically. "But I don't care what you say, as long as there is
pie like this in the world," and he bit off a huge mouthful with an
expression of perfect ecstasy on his round countenance.
"It is pretty easy to take," admitted Herb, as he proceeded to dispose
of his share in a workmanlike manner. "This is regular angel's food,
Bob."
"Yes, it was made especially for me," said Bob, trying to look like
an angel, but falling considerably short of the mark. It is hard for
any one to look very angelic with a big piece of apple pie in one
hand and a glass of milk in the other.
"Suppose you cut out the angel business and hand me over another piece
of that pie," suggested Jimmy. "If you're an angel, Bob, I hope to die
a horrible death from slow starvation, and I can't say any more than
that, can I?"
"You'd better speak nicely to me, or you won't get another piece,"
threatened Bob, holding a wedge of pie temptingly in Jimmy's
direction. "Am I an angel, Doughnuts, or not? Yes--pie. No--no pie."
"Of course you are, Bob, and you know I always loved you." Bob passed
him the pie, and Jimmy clutched it securely.
"Thanks, you big hobo," he grinned.
"There's gratitude for you," said Bob, appealing to the others. "He
knows the pie is all gone now, so he thinks he can insult me and get
away with it."
"So I can," said Jimmy complacently. "You know you could never get
along without my advice and help, Bob. You need somebody around you
with brains, to make up for Joe and Herb."
"That pie must have gone to your head," said Joe. "We'd better try
to get him home where they can take care of him, Herb. He'll probably
be telling us he's Napoleon, if we let him get a little crazier."
"I'm going right away, anyway," said Jimmy, hunting back of the door
for his cap. "I worked so hard making that tuning coil that I'm all
in. I'll need a good night's sleep to set me on my feet again.
So long, fellows," and he went away whistling.
The others followed soon after, after agreeing to meet the next
afternoon to mount the tuning coil.
As Bob and Joe were on their way home from school the following day
they caught sight of Miss Berwick sitting on the porch of the hotel,
enjoying the bright spring sunshine. She nodded to them brightly and
invited them to come up on the porch. They were quick to accept the
invitation, and as they dropped into seats beside her they were glad
to note that there was more color in her cheeks than when they had
seen her last.
"No need of asking whether you are feeling better," remarked Bob.
"One can tell that by just looking at you."
"Oh yes," replied Miss Berwick with a smile. "I'll soon be as well
as ever, thanks to the good doctoring and nursing I've had."
"It was too bad that the doctor came in just when he did the other
day," said Joe. "We were keen to hear the rest of your story about
that fellow Cassey. Has anything turned up to tell you where he is
and what he is doing?"
"Not a thing," replied the girl, with a tinge of sadness in her tone.
"From the moment I paid him that money, I've never laid eyes on him.
For some days after he was said to have left for Chicago, I haunted
his office, hoping that with every mail there might be a letter
either to me or his stenographer explaining the matter and setting
it right. I tried to get his Chicago address, but his stenographer
said she didn't know it, and I think it likely enough she was telling
the truth. I've looked through the records here to see if he had
transferred the mortgage, but it still stands in his name, as far as
the records go. I have clung to the hope that possibly he had written
to me and that the letter had gone astray. But I guess I'm just
fooling myself. I'm going to put the whole thing in the hands of a
lawyer and have Cassey brought to justice if I can. But I'm afraid
it'll be a case of locking the stable door after the horse is stolen."
"Don't get downhearted," urged Bob. "I have an idea that you'll get
your money or the mortgage. Slicker rascals than he have been caught,
no matter how carefully they covered their tracks. There's usually
one little thing they've forgotten that leads to their getting nabbed
at last."
"Let's hope so," replied Miss Berwick, but none too confidently.
"But now tell me something about yourselves. It isn't fair that
my troubles should take up all the conversation."
The boys told her of their radio experiments, and she listened with
the keenest interest.
"That reminds me," she said. "I noticed a radio telephone set in this
man Cassey's office. His stenographer told me that that was his one
recreation."
"You find them everywhere," replied Bob. "They'll soon be a feature
in almost every home and business office. But we'll have to go now,"
he said, as he rose to his feet, while Joe followed his example.
"Good afternoon. And don't forget what I said. I feel you'll get
your money or you'll get your mortgage."