e summer season
at Gates Harbor, was considerably mystified by the actions of the family
phonograph. Now while a talking machine is admittedly endowed with one
human attribute, it is supposed to be a talking and not a walking
machine. Yet unless it were endowed with motive power, how explain the
sudden oddities of its appearances and disappearances?

The evening after the first hop at the club, Tootsie broke upon the
family dinner table with the frantic announcement:

"The phonograph's gone! Stolen!"

"Stolen!" said Skippy incredulously.

"Stolen!" said Mr. Bedelle with his eat 'em alive expression.

"Why it was there this morning," said Clara.

"Well, it's not there now and it wasn't there this afternoon!"

The entire Bedelle family broke for the parlor. There in its accustomed
corner was the phonograph. When quiet had been restored Tootsie again
announced.

"It was _not_ there this afternoon!"

"Who was there, Tootsie dear?" said Clara maliciously.

Tootsie's reply woke up Mr. Bedelle, who considered himself a nervous
dyspeptic and, being already in a state of antidigestive excitation,
glowered and imposed silence on the entire younger generation.

"Well, it's _my_ phonograph, anyhow!" said Tootsie sulkily, and dinner
over she hastened to the parlor. The phonograph was still there. She
went to bed a little shaken in her convictions. But the next morning,
returning early from the beach, she happened to glance into the parlor.
The phonograph had disappeared again! Tootsie could not believe her
eyes. She advanced cautiously and felt with both hands, but her groping
fingers encountered nothing but thin air. Then she searched behind the
curtains, moved the furniture and opened all the hall closets. There was
no question about it this time, the phonograph certainly had vanished
from the house!

Half an hour later, as Mr. and Mrs. Bedelle were sauntering back from
the morning plunge, the frantic figure of Miss Tootsie came flying down
the road.

"Good gracious, Tootsie! What _has_ happened?" exclaimed Mrs. Bedelle,
trying to remember whether the dioxygen and the bandages had been
unpacked.

"It's gone!"

"Gone? What, who, where?"

"The phonograph's gone again."

"Now Tootsie," said Mr. Bedelle, elevating a cautionary finger.

"Don't agitate yourself, John," said Mrs. Bedelle.

"Father, it is gone! I saw it!"

"Saw it?"

"I mean I saw it wasn't there and I searched everywhere. I saw it with
my own