were leaning against Fudge's front gate in the fragrant warmth of the May afternoon, Perry said:
"Say, Fudge, I've been thinking."
"Uh-huh," responded Fudge disinterestedly.
"About Mr. Addicks."
"Anything new?" asked Fudge eagerly. "Have you seen him?"
Perry shook his head. "No, but—but I've been thinking."
"You said that once," complained Fudge.
"Well, I don't believe he's so awfully bad, do you? He was mighty nice to us the other day, Fudge. Lots of folks would have kicked us down-stairs if they'd caught us listening outside the door like that. And he doesn't—doesn't look bad, now does he?"
"N-no." Fudge shook his head in agreement. "No, he doesn't. But we know he is, and"
"But we don't know what temptation he may have had, Fudge," pleaded Perry. "Maybe he was starving or—or something. Of course, it isn't right to rob even if you are starving, but—but it makes it less bad, doesn't it? And, for all we know, he may be trying to be better and—and live it down, eh? See what I mean?"
"Sure, and that may be so, too." Fudge knit his
197
