"But, I don't want to see you!" retorted the other sulkily. "I've
got no use for you."
"No more have I for you," was Tom's quick reply. "But I want to
return you these keys. You dropped them in my boat the other
night when you tried to set it afire. If I ever catch you--"
"My keys! Your boat! On fire!" gasped Andy, so plainly
astonished that Tom knew his surprise was genuine.
"Yes, your keys. You were a little, too quick for me or I'd have
caught you at it. The next time you pick a lock don't leave your
keys behind you," and he held out the jingling ring.
Andy Foger advanced slowly. He took the bunch of keys and looked
at the tag.
"They are mine," he said slowly, as if there was some doubt about
it.
"Of course they are," declared Tom. "I found them where you
dropped them--in my boat."
"Do you mean over at the auction?"
"No, I mean down in my boathouse, where you sneaked in the other
night and tried to do some damage.
"The other night!" cried Andy. "I never was near your boathouse
any night and I never lost my keys there! I lost these the day of
the auction, on Mr. Hastings' ground, and I've been looking for
them ever since."
"Didn't you sneak in my boathouse the other night and try to do
some mischief? Didn't you drop them then?"
"No, I didn't," retorted Andy earnestly.
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