When Philip approached his house a little before dinner time, he could hear his Aunt Louise’s voice all the way to the sidewalk. He stepped inside the front door and listened.
“They’re gone,” Aunt Louise cried. “Who would steal a person’s pants? Who, I ask you?”
Philip tiptoed into the living room where he saw his father slumped in his favorite chair. Aunt Louise’s voice came from the kitchen.
“What happened?” asked Philip.
Mr. Felton gave his son a weak smile and shook his head. “Your Aunt Louise rinsed out her slacks—the ones like she gave your mother and me. She hung them out on the line in the backyard. When she went to get them a few minutes ago, they weren’t there.”
“Somebody stole her pants?”
Philip’s father spread his hands. “They’re not there.”
“Who would want a pair of pants like those?”
“Good question . . . oh.”
Philip’s mother walked into the room followed by a very unhappy Aunt Louise.
“Those pants were expensive,” Aunt Louise went on. “I don’t understand it. What kind of a neighborhood do you live in?”
Philip’s mother looked at him. “Philip, do you know anything about Aunt Louise’s missing pants?”
“Me! How would I know anything about them?”
Aunt Louise stared daggers at him. “Are there boys in the neighborhood would do an awful thing like that?”
“An awful thing like steal your pants? I don’t think so.” Philip felt a strong urge to laugh, but he fought it.
“Louise,” Philip’s father said, “I don’t want you to suffer such a loss. You can have mine. Yours were black; the ones you gave me were black. I would hate for your visit to us to be spoiled.”
Aunt Louis suddenly calmed down. “Well, that’s very kind of you, I must say.”
“These things happen, Louise,” Philip’s mother added. “And the pants may turn up. You never know. Until they do, you’ll have a new pair of slacks just like the ones you lost.”
“Well . . .”
Philip’s mother turned to Philip. “We’re going out to dinner tonight. I already took Becky to Mrs. Moriarty’s.” Mrs. Moriarty was Philip’s favorite neighbor. She always had candy available and loved to share. “You can go over to Emery’s.”
“I just was at Emery’s. He didn’t say anything.”
“I only now called. Go.”
Philip didn’t wait.
~ * ~
“Ha! She lost her pants.”
“You should’ve seen how fast my father gave her his new pants.”
A siren and the flash of red lights through the window caught the boys’ attention.
“Mom,” Emery called. “When’s dinner?”
“Not for another hour,” came a voice.
“The siren stopped,” said Emery. “Want to go see?”
“Might as well.”
The boys went outside and ran to the corner. Two police cars, their roof lights spinning, sat parked two blocks ahead.
The boys joined a growing crowd in front of a house where three policemen stood outside the front door talking to a very excited woman.
Emery turned to a man with a white mustache. “What happened, mister?”
“Best I can tell it seems they were away for a day or two, and somebody got in and stole their new television and a few other things. Lady doesn’t like it much, does she?” The man said something to the woman with him, and they walked closer to the house.
Philip looked at Emery. “Isn’t this the house that threw away the old TV—the house we had on our list for Mr. Sorino?”
“Yeah.”
“Weird.”
“Hey, you think Mr. Sorino might give them back their old TV?”
Philip watched the woman in the doorway still talking to the policeman, her hands waving all over the place. “I don’t know. Not if it was broken, and he already fixed it. He’d want money. These people probably aren’t going to want to buy back the TV they already threw away.”
“No, I guess not, but we could ask. We have time before dinner.”
“He wants us to bring him things, not get him to give stuff away.”
“Yeah, I suppose. Want to walk around and look for stuff then?”
“Sure. The lady went inside anyway. What’s your mother making for dinner?”
“Spaghetti. She makes that a lot.”
The boys set out.