a grin. “Where were you Dickums, when the storm broke?”

“In the preserves.”

“In the what?”

“Preserve closet under the stairs. I heard everything nicely. I thought I’d die!”

“Did, did you?” asked Roy, sarcastically. “You always did have a crazy sense of humor. What are you going to do?”

“Me? Go back to the boat and have supper, of course,” replied Dick, with a wicked grin. “It’s a fine night, isn’t it? See the new moon?”

“Don’t be a ninny,” said Roy, impatiently. “Do something! He may be back any moment.”

“Oh, no, he’s good for an hour; he said so. What’ll I do—shoot the dog or burn the house down?”

“Find a ladder, you blathering idiot,” Chub laughed. “There ought to be one at the barn.”

“There is. I looked.”

“Well, why didn’t you bring it?”

“It’s too short.”

There was silence after this for a moment. Then,

“How much too short?” asked Roy.