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Updated: May 18, 2025
"It won't be a quarter as much fun unless we have the whole crowd." "Say, watch that slim, well-dressed fellow with the brown derby," whispered Hazelton. "See him coming along behind the two women. I'm sure I saw him, earlier this morning, talking with the same fit-thrower that bumped Dick." "Humph! So did I," muttered Dick. "I remember.
"The fit-thrower, very likely," Dick answered. "The fit what?" Then Dick hastily recalled to them his adventures of the day before. "And one parlor window is fastened," Dick went on. "The other has its catch slipped. The fit-thrower must have climbed up in the night, slipped the catch with a thin blade and prowled around in here just to spoil our Christmas." "It looks that way," nodded Mr.
"This must be from the fit-thrower!" thought young Prescott, with an inward jump. He was soon to know. Through the night Dick slept as only an active, tired out boy can sleep. If he woke once he had no recollection of it in the morning. This, too, despite the fact that it was Christmas, and he had all of a boy's natural desire to know what the day was to bring him. Rat-tat-tat! sounded Mrs.
"They were together this morning, and the fit-thrower was with them." "You boys will be sorry for making unfounded charges of this sort," called back the black-moustached prisoner angrily. "Wait and see if you're not." "Cut out the gloom, man!" ordered the uniformed policeman, giving his captive a twist that hurt. "Don't be trying to frighten small boys."
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