"I'll wear the raggedest clothes I can find. Bless———" But he stopped in time.
Mr. Damon took up his residence in the Swift household, as he had often done before, and for the next week he went and came as he pleased, sometimes being away all night.
"It's no use, though," declared Mr. Damon at the end of the week. "I can't get anywhere near that shed, nor even get a glimpse inside of it. I haven't been able to learn anything, either. There are two gardeners on guard all the while, and several times when I've tried to go in the side gate, they've stopped me."
"Isn't there any news of Andy about town?" asked Tom. "I should think Sam or Pete would know where he is."
"Well, I didn't ask them, for they'd know right away why I was inquiring," said Mr. Damon, "but it seems to me as if there was something queer going on. If Andy Foger is working in that shed of his, he's keeping mighty quiet about it. Bless my———"
And once more he stopped in time. He was conquering the habit in a measure.
"Well, what do you propose to do next?" asked Tom.
"Disguise myself like a tramp, and go there looking for work," was the firm answer. "There
