It would be best, they
decided, to carry each box and piece of furniture to the hall for
examination. With the zeal of treasure hunters they set to work.
Some time later, when Val was coaxing the second box through the door,
they were interrupted.
"And just what is going on here?" Rupert stood at the end of the hall.
"Oh," Ricky smiled sweetly, "did we really disturb you?"
"Well, I did think that there was a troop of elephants doing tap dancing
up here. But that isn't the point--just _what_ are you doing?"
"Cleaning house." Ricky flicked a gray rag in his direction freeing a
cloud of dust. "Don't you think it needs it?"
Rupert sneezed. "It seems so. But why--? Miss Biglow!"
Charity, extremely dirty--she had apparently run dusty hands across her
forehead several times--had come to the door of the storage-room. At the
sight of Rupert she flushed and made a hurried attempt at smoothing her
hair.
"I--" she began, when Ricky interrupted her.
"Charity is helping us, which is more than we can say of you. Go back to
your old den and hibernate. And then you can't look down that long nose
of yours when we turn up the papers that'll save us from the poorhouse."
"That's telling him," Val murmured approvingly as he fanned himself with
one of the cleaner cloths. "But perhaps we had better explain. You see,
Satan went hunting and found work for idle hands," and he told the tale
of the sliding panel behind the bed.
Pages:
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91