particularly because of himself. He was quite sure
that the policeman was coming for him. Logic had
no place in his frenzied conclusions. He did not
consider how the tragedy had taken place entirely
out of sight of a house, that Lily Jennings was the
only person who had any knowledge of it. He looked
at the masterful, fair-haired little girl like a baby.
"How?" sniffed he.

For answer, Lily pointed to the empty baby-car-
riage. "Get right in," she ordered.

Even in this dire extremity Johnny hesitated.
"Can't."

"Yes, you can. It is extra large. Aunt Laura's
baby was a twin when he first came; now he's just
an ordinary baby, but his carriage is big enough for
two. There's plenty of room. Besides, you're a
very small boy, very small of your age, even if you
do knock all the other boys down and have mur-
dered your aunt. Get in. In a minute they will
see you."

There was in reality no time to lose. Johnny
did get in. In spite of the provisions for twins,
there was none too much room.

Lily covered him up with the fluffy pink-and-lace
things, and scowled. "You hump up awfully,"