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At mention of his name, D.C. appeared and, without so much as a hello, jumped up on a low kitchen stool, leaped to the drainboard, and from there to the top of the refrigerator. He laboriously set about washing an ear. He would moisten one side of his paw and brush the wet fur energetically. The process would take time but then he had no further plans for the day other than to sleep and fortify himself for the night’s rounds.

Inky wriggled into a slip. “I bet he was furious.”

“He threatened to murder D.C. if he caught him on his property again.”

Inky grinned. “He wouldn’t do that. He’s nice. I like him lots.”

“You like his Thunderbird. I saw you night before last. Traitor.”

How could you cope with a man who took the neighborhood youngsters in his car with him when he went to the market or post office? Not that he really cared anything about them, she thought. It was just that he was hungry for companionship. Since his mother’s death, he had lived alone in the old family home, cooking for himself, washing dishes, making his own bed, puttering around the yard, and looking after that horrible misanthrope dachshund of his.

Patti yelled for Mike to hurry up, that he’d be late, and started the eggs and bacon. Inky set the table, keeping up a running chatter. “I was so mad I could’ve blown the whole guidance department apart. Those people haven’t got any brains in their head. As soon as I mentioned I wanted a certain home room teacher, the guy froze up and wouldn’t even listen. I tell you, sis, it may have been one of God’s days, like you’re always saying, but it was one of His worst.”

“Mike!” Patti shouted again, this time above Ricky Nelson, who had invaded the kitchen in volume sufficient for the Hollywood Bowl. Patti turned the sound down.

Ingrid failed to notice. “I’m going in today and tell Mr. Hopkins he’s simply, absolutely got to give me another home room teacher, and if He doesn’t I’m going to try tears. I’m going to cry my heart out.”

Patti was amused. “You’re learning, honey. You’re learning fast.”

Mike came scuffing in then, looking two years older than the twelve he was. His crew cut was well waxed. “Don’t let anybody drop a match on you today,” Patti said, handing him his plate.

“Very funny.” He ate as if food were going out of style. “Do you think Mom and Dad have forgotten us?” he asked. ”They haven’t written in two days.” He said it accusingly. He himself had managed one letter to his parents in a month.

Ingrid said, “I don’t know how they could leave three such lovely children behind.” She shot a glance at Mike. “Well, two anyway.”

Mike ignored her. He had a problem to discuss with Patti. He was a box boy after school at Ralph’s grocery. “I was stacking the cans up in a pyramid, and this little monster, I didn’t see him, and he pulled a can out at the bottom, and got conked, and yells I tried to kill him. I almost got fired. Mr. Mayhew said he’d let me off with a warning, that I had to be more careful

.”

He added, “I don’t know what to do about the children. If you frown at them, their mothers scream at you. Man, when I was a kid, I couldn’t do anything – but this younger generation

.”

Patti remembered the watch then, and got it from a chest drawer. “Look at the loot D.C. bagged last night. I figure some youngster put it around D.C.‘s neck, and his mother’s probably going mad this morning trying to find it.”

Ingrid examined it curiously, picked up her schoolbooks, and was halfway out the back door when Mike said, “Hey, you know what?”

He was excited. “You remember that holdup about a week ago, that bank in Van Nuys two guys knocked over for a couple hundred grand – and they grabbed a bank teller – an old lady, about forty – and nobody’s seen any of them since. You remember, don’t you, Pat?”

She looked blank. “Well – “

“She was wearing a watch like this one. I remember, the paper described everything she had on, and there was a pic­ture with this watch on her wrist.”

He continued breathlessly. “She put it on him, don’t you see? She’s being held prisoner right around here, and D.C. got into the house, and she put it around his neck to get help.”

“Wait a minute,” Patti said, “an’ back up.”

“You’ve got to call the police, Pat. You’ve got to. You know how old D.C.” – he ran a hand roughly over the cat – “wan­ders around and visits people and mooches from them.” He turned to D.C. “You love people, don’t you, you old hound?”

D.C. licked him appreciatively. He was very fond of this boy he had reared through the difficult pre-teen period, when a youngster lacked the maturity to recognize that a cat’s tail was a definite member of his body.

Ingrid said, “Sure, he loves the human race. He doesn’t’ know any better.”

Patti sat quietly. “Now let’s not get carried away. Chances are a million to one

“

“The paper said to call the FBI if anybody had any news.” Mike, undaunted, was already looking up the number. “Here it is. Hubbard 3-3551. Be sure to tell them D.C. brought the watch home. He might get a congressional medal or some­thing.”