They always did,
after school was out. The Ripleys and the Deanes were neighbors.
The other girls, however, followed Laura, as, with quick, resolute
step, she marched over to where the High School boys still lingered.
"Boys," began Laura, "Mr. Prescott has been accused of pretending
about a hurt hand. I know how he injured it; and, as he did it-----"
"Please don't say any more, Miss Bentley," begged Dick, flushing.
"Yes, I shall," insisted Laura, quietly. "It happened night before
last. Dick Prescott didn't want anything said about it, and neither
did the police, so-----"
"The police?" chipped in several of the High School boys and girls.
"Yes, the police wanted it kept quiet, so they could have a chance
to catch the fellow," Laura hastened on. "But they've had time
enough, now, to catch the rascal, if they're ever going to. You
see, it happened this way: Mother had forty-five dollars on hand
that belonged to the church fair fund. So, night before last,
she asked me to take it over to Miss Bond, the treasurer. I was
going through Clinton Street, in one of the dark spots, when a
man jumped out from behind a tree and made a snatch for the purse
that I carried in my hand.
"Well, somehow---I don't just know how," Laura continued, "I managed
to keep hold of the purse and I screamed, of course. Then some
one came running down the street as fast as he could---and Dick
Prescott leaped at the rascal. It was a hard fight---a fearful
one.
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