though Miss Stratton disclaimed the need of aid.

"The paper doesn't always fall where I can see it," explained Miss
Stratton, mortified at her failure to find the paper for her guests.

"Who brings it around?" asked Mrs. Landler, looking at the broad
front walk.

"Harry Butterworth," answered Miss Stratton.

She did not tell of the annoyance Harry had caused her heretofore.
Harry's mother was a church friend of the Landlers and the
Strattons, and Miss Stratton was loath to expose the boy's
shortcomings.

No paper appeared, and after a thorough search, Mrs. Landler and
Miss Stratton went into the house. Dusk was coming. Miss Stratton
had occasion to go upstairs for something, and glancing out of the
front hall window, she saw the twisted roll of that evening's paper
lying on a projection of the roof.

"He threw the paper on the roof!" exclaimed Miss Stratton, "and he
didn't come in to tell me!"

She pushed up the hall window, and reaching out as far as she dared,
she tried with an old umbrella handle to dislodge the paper. She
drew breathlessly back.

"It's no use! I can't get it!" she gasped.