"I don't see why you can't throw that evening paper where we can
find it!" Miss Stratton was saying under her breath. "We have a
broad walk, and there's plenty of room! I've been out in the yard
three or four times to-night, and hunted thoroughly, and mother's
been out once. Mother's eyes are poor, and she likes to have the
paper before dark."
Miss Stratton caught her breath in the cold wind. She hastened by a
gas-lamp, climbed the hill, and found her way in darkness up the
long steps of a house. She fumbled for the bell and rang it. There
was a little stir within, the opening of an interior door to let
light into the hall, and then a boy's step. The front door opened.
Miss Stratton looked straight into the boyish face that appeared.
"I want to know where you threw our paper to-night," she demanded.
"I can't find it anywhere."
The boy stepped one side so that the light within the farther room
might fall on Miss Stratton's face. He recognized her.
"Oh," returned the boy, "your paper went up a tree."
"Up a tree!" exclaimed Miss Stratton, indignantly. "Why didn't you
come in and tell me, so I'd know where to look for it?"
"If I'd had an extra copy with me, I'd have thrown in another," said
the boy--"I'll get you one."
He walked back into the sitting-room, glad to escape from the
accusing subscriber, whom he had not expected to see following him
to his home.
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