It was a breathless Willie who broke into his mother's
kitchen wide eyed and gasping from the effects of ex-
citement and a long, hard run.
"Fer lan' sakes!" exclaimed Mrs. Case. "Whatever in
the world ails you?"
"I got 'em; I got 'em!" cried Willie, dashing for the
telephone.
"Fer lan' sakes! I should think you did hev 'em," re-
torted his mother as she trailed after him in the direc-
tion of the front hall. "'N' whatever you got, you got 'em
bad. Now you stop right where you air 'n' tell me what-
ever you got. 'Taint likely its measles, fer you've hed
them three times, 'n' whoopin' cough ain't 'them,' it's 'it,'
'n'--." Mrs. Case paused and gasped--horrified. "Fer lan'
sakes, Willie Case, you come right out o' this house this
minute ef you got anything in your head." She made a
grab for Willie's arm; but the boy dodged and reached
the telephone.
"Shucks!" he cried. "I ain't got nothin' in my head,"
nor did either sense the unconscious humor of the state-
ment. "What I got is a gang o' thieves an' murderers, an'
I'm callin' up thet big city deetectiff to come arter 'em."
Mrs. Case sank into a chair, prostrated by the weight
of her emotions, while Willie took down the receiver af-
ter ringing the bell to attract central.
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