“We’re not going to touch ’em!” declared Sister.  “We’re only going to look.”

Jimmie seldom snapped his padlock, for lately the children had not bothered the gymnasium in the barn.  They found the door open this afternoon.

“Bet you can’t jump off that!” said Sister, pointing to a home-made “horse” that Jimmie had ingeniously contrived.

(If you don’t know the kind of “horse” they use in a gymnasium, ask your big brother or sister.)

“Bet I can!” challenged Brother.

They took turns jumping until they were tired, and they went about poking their little fingers and noses into whatever they could find to examine.  Sister’s investigations ended sadly enough, for she succeeded in pulling down a tray of butterflies that Jimmie was mounting (he had thought the gymnasium a safe place to keep them out of everyone’s way), and now broken glass and crumbled butterflies were scattered all over the floor.

“Now you’ve done it!” cried Brother.  “Jimmie will be just as mad!”

They found an old broom and swept the broken glass under one of the heavy floor pads.  Then, very much subdued, they went into the house and were so quiet for the rest of the afternoon and through supper that Mother Morrison wondered if they were sick.

They were having dessert when the doorbell rang and Molly went to the door.  She came back in a moment, her eyes round with wonder and looking rather frightened.

“It’s Mr. Dougherty, sir,” she said to Daddy Morrison.  “He wants to see you.”

Mr. Dougherty was Ridgeway’s one and only policeman.

CHAPTER XVI

MISS PUTNAM COMPLAINS

At the mention of the policeman’s name, Sister had given a gasp.  No one noticed her as Daddy Morrison pushed back his chair and went into the hall.

“I wonder what he wants?” mused Mother Morrison, helping Ralph to blackberries.

“Sister, you’re spilling juice on the tablecloth,” reproved Dick.  “Look out, there goes another spot.”

Sister was trying to eat her berries, and also plan what to say when the policeman should send for her.  She was sure that he had heard about the broken case of butterflies, for Jimmie, when greatly provoked at her long ago, had threatened to tell Mr. Dougherty of her next misdeed.

“I like Mr. Dougherty,” announced Brother sweetly.

No broken butterflies lay heavy on his conscience.

Louise and Grace finished their dessert and were excused to go upstairs.  The others lingered at the table because Daddy Morrison and Mr. Dougherty had gone into the living-room and they did not wish to disturb them.

“Lelia,” called Daddy Morrison presently, “will you come here for a moment?”

Leila was Mother Morrison’s name, and she rose and went across the hall quickly.

There was a low murmur of talk, an exclamation from Mother Morrison, and then the voice of Mr. Dougherty in the hall.