"

"You might recover your stolen property," the policeman said
optimistically, taking a notebook from his pocket. "Your name and
address?"

Susan gave it and furnished such information as she could regarding the
theft.

"Your car wasn't the only one that was stripped in this neighborhood
tonight," the officer told her. "Not fifteen minutes ago I ran into a
similar case."

"I think it's time the police did something about it," Susan said
somewhat crossly.

"We're up against a tough gang, Miss. Our force is small and we can't
place a man on every street corner."

As the officer continued to make out his report, a girl came running
toward the little group. She was about Penny's age, though much
thinner. Her black hair blew in the wind, unrestrained by hat or beret.

"Oh, Father!" she cried in agitation.

The policeman turned quickly around.

"Why, Betty, what brings you here?" he questioned in surprise.

"I've been following you for two blocks," the girl said breathlessly.
"I wanted to----"

Her voice trailed off. She had noticed Susan and Penny.

Slowly her eyes swept over the dismantled car, then they roved to her
father with an expression which was akin to panic.

"What was it you wanted, Betty?" he asked.

"It doesn't matter now," she stammered. She added tensely: "Father,
you're not making out a report!"

"Certainly, I am."

"Don't do it," the girl pleaded, gripping his arm. "You know what it
may mean. Please, for my sake!"

Penny and Susan exchanged a quick glance. They were at a loss to
understand the girl's strange attitude. Why should she be so troubled
because her father was writing out a routine report of a theft?

To their relief, the policeman laughed carelessly and went on making
out the report.

"You're hysterical, Betty," he accused. "Come, get a grip upon
yourself."

"I'm sorry," the girl murmured, glancing nervously at Penny and Susan.
"I shouldn't have made such a request."

"My daughter is very excitable," the officer said apologetically. "She
didn't really mean what she said."

There was an awkward pause. Penny turned to the girl and questioned
kindly:

"Haven't I seen you somewhere? Your face is familiar."

"I've watched you swim at the Y.W.C.A. pool. You dive beautifully
too."

"Oh, I remember you now! But I don't know your name."

"I am Betty Davis. You've already met my father."

"Jerome Davis," the officer added. "Just a sidewalk pounder."