No paper was visible, search as she might.
"Perhaps it hasn't come yet," she said to the guests, when she came in.
A little later she went out again.

Mrs.Landler came to help search, though Miss Stratton disclaimed the need of aid.
"The paper doesn't always fall where I can see it," explained Miss Stratton, mortified at her failure to find the paper for her guests.
"Who brings it around ?" asked Mrs.Landler, looking at the broad front walk.
"Harry Butterworth," answered Miss Stratton.
She did not tell of the annoyance Harry had caused her heretofore.
Harry's mother was a church friend of the Landlers and the Strattons, and Miss Stratton was loath to expose the boy's shortcomings.
No paper appeared, and after a thorough search, Mrs.Landler and Miss Stratton went into the house.

Dusk was coming.

Miss Stratton had occasion to go upstairs for something, and glancing out of the front hall window, she saw the twisted roll of that evening's paper lying on a projection of the roof.
"He threw the paper on the roof!" exclaimed Miss Stratton, "and he didn't come in to tell me!" She pushed up the hall window, and reaching out as far as she dared, she tried with an old umbrella handle to dislodge the paper.

She drew breathlessly back.
"It's no use! I can't get it!" she gasped.
She went downstairs and told her mother quietly, but Mrs.Stratton had no scruples about informing her guests what had happened.
"That boy's thrown this evening's paper on the roof!" stated old Mrs.Stratton.