Page:Jean Webster--Much ado about Peter.djvu/168

160 "This ain't no time for play," growled Peter, whirling toward the house and the telephone. "What's that?" He stopped as his eye lighted upon a vivid sheet of paper lying on the ground.

"It was pinned to the p-pillow," Annie sobbed.

Peter snatched it up and stared for a moment in blank amazement. The words were printed in staggering characters, a bright vermilion in tone.



A flash of illumination swept over Peter's face.

There was an old barn at the end of the lane that had been moved back when the new