entry, and reached the front door only to find that it was locked and that there was no key in sight.
"Sometimes they hang it on a nail alongside the door," muttered Chub, running his hand around the frame.
"Or put it under the mat," said Roy.
"There isn’t any mat. Let's try a window. Come on in here."
He led the way into a dim and deserted parlor, a stuffy, uncanny apartment in which the curtains were closely drawn at the three windows.
"See if you can see Fido," counseled Chub. Roy raised the shade at one of the windows on the front of the house and looked out. Beneath was a bed of purple phlox and beyond was a walk and a little space of grass. At the right was the lane—and safety.
"He isn't in sight," Roy answered in whispers. "But he may come."
"That doesn't matter," answered Chub, recklessly. "I want to go home to supper. Push up the window."
Roy obeyed. The sash creaked and screamed as he forced it up and they paused and held their
