WHERE WAS PURT?


The police examination of Purt Sweet was no light matter. Two of
Centerport's detective force had been working on the case ever since the
stranger had been knocked down on Market Street, and, like Chet Belding and
his friends, the detectives finally had come to the conclusion that
Prettyman Sweet's automobile was the only Perriton car in the city that had
not been in storage on that night.

The detectives' visit to the Sweet residence, and Purt's later call upon
the Chief of Police at his command, were dreadfully shocking to the boy's
mother. Purt had to reassure her and insist that he was not going to be
arrested and sent to jail at once; so he had not much time to be frightened
himself. Indeed, he came out in rather good colors on this particular
occasion.

The boy's father had long since died. Purt had been indulged by his mother
to a ridiculous degree, and as a usual thing Purt's conversation and his
activities were ridiculed by his schoolmates.

"This disgrace will kill me, Prettyman!" wailed Mrs. Sweet.

"Where does the disgrace come in," pleaded poor Purt, "when I haven't
really done anything?"

"But they say you have!"

"I can't help what they say."