Everything is much higher, agreed Tess.
CHAPTER V SAMMY OCCASIONS MUCH EXCITEMENT
This was said of course after Sammys mother had gone home in tears and Agnes had accompanied her to give such comfort as she might. The whole neighborhood was roused about the missing Sammy. All agreed that the boy never was of so much importance as when he was missing.
I do hope and pray that the little rascal will turn up soon, continued Aunt Sarah, for Mrs. Pinkneys sake.
I wonder, murmured Dot to Tess, why it is Aunt Sarah always says she hopes and prays? Wouldnt just praying be enough? Youre sure to get what you pray for, arent you?
But what is the use of praying if you dont hope? demanded Tess, the hair-splitting theologian. They must go together, Dot. I should think youd see that.
Mrs. Pinkney had lost hope of finding Sammy, however, right at the start. She knew him of course of old. He had been running away ever since he could toddle out of the gate; but she and Mr. Pinkney tried to convince themselves that each time would be the last that he was cured.
For almost always Sammys runaway escapades ended disastrously for him and covered him with ridicule. Particularly ignominious was the result of his recent attempt, which is narrated in the volume immediately preceding this, to accompany the Corner House Girls on their canal-boat cruise, when he appeared as a stowaway aboard the boat in the company of Billy Bumps, the goat.
And he hasnt even taken Buster with him this time, proclaimed Mrs. Pinkney. He chained Buster down cellar and the dog began to howl. So mournful! It got on my nerves. I went down after Mr. Pinkney went to business early this morning and let Buster out. Then, because of the dogs actions, I began to suspect Sammy had gone. I called him. No answer. And he hadnt had any supper last night either.
I am awfully sorry, Mrs. Pinkney, Agnes said. It was too bad about the beets. But he neednt have run away because of that . Ruth sent him his fifty cents, you know.
Thats just it! exclaimed the distracted woman. His father did not give Sammy the half dollar. As long as the boy was so sulky last evening, and refused to come down to eat, Mr. Pinkney said let him wait for that money till he came down this morning. He thought Ruth was too good. Sammy is always doing something.
Oh, hes not so bad, said the comforting Agnes. I am sure there are lots worse boys. And are you sure, Mrs. Pinkney, that he has really run away this time?
Buster cant find him. The poor dog has been running around and snuffing for an hour. Ive telephoned to his father.
Who what ? Busters father?
Mr. Pinkney, explained Sammys
mother. I suppose hell tell the police. He says Mr. Pinkney does that the police must think it is a standing order on their books to find Sammy.
Oh, my! giggled Agnes, who was sure to appreciate the comical side of the most serious situation. I should think the policemen would be so used to looking for Sammy that they would pick him up anywhere they chanced to see him with the idea that he was running away.
Well, sighed Mrs. Pinkney, Buster cant find him. There he lies panting over by the currant bushes. The poor dog has run his legs off.
I dont believe bulldogs are very keen on a scent. Our old Tom Jonah could do better. But of course Sammy went right out into the street and the scent would be difficult for the best dog to follow. Do you think Sammy went early this morning?
That dog began to howl soon after we went to bed. Mr. Pinkney sleeps so soundly that it did not annoy him. But I knew something was wrong when Buster howled so.
Perhaps Im superstitious. But we had an old dog that howled like that years ago when my grandmother died. She was ninety-six and had been bedridden for ten years, and the doctors said of course that she was likely to die almost any time. But that old Towser did howl the night grandma was taken.
So you think, Agnes asked, without commenting upon Mrs. Pinkneys possible trend toward superstition, that Sammy has been gone practically all night?
I fear so. He must have waited for his father and me to go to bed. Then he slipped down the back stairs, tied Buster, and went out by the cellar door. All night long hes been wandering somewhere. The poor, foolish boy!
She took Agnes up to the boys room a museum of all kinds of useless truck, as his mother said, but dear to the boyish heart.
Oh, hes gone sure enough, she said, pointing to the bank which was supposed to be incapable of being opened until five dollars in dimes had been deposited within it. A screw-driver, however, had satisfied the burglarious intent of Sammy.
She pointed out the fact, too, that a certain extension bag that had figured before in her sons runaway escapades was missing.
The silly boy has taken his bathing suit and that cowboy play-suit his father bought him. I never did approve of that. Such things only give boys crazy notions about catching dogs and little girls with a rope, or shooting stray cats with a popgun.