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living room.
    â€œLet’s go,” Simon said to Henry and Jack. “She’s not going to give us Josie, and I don’t think there’s anyone else home.” He called over his shoulder. “You’ll be sorry. Our mom is going to call your mom, and then you’ll be in big trouble.”
    As they walked across the yard, they heard the door slide open.
    â€œWait,” the girl said.
    The boys turned around. “Are you going to give Josie back?” Henry asked.
    The girl frowned at him. “Her name is Princess,” she said.
    Princess! The boys looked at one another in disgust.
    Jack balled his fists and started back toward the deck, but Simon grabbed his shoulder.
    â€œForget it,” he said. “Mom will know what to do.”

CHAPTER 8
    DELILAH
    S IMON, H ENRY, AND J ACK rode their bikes as fast as they could all the way home. They burst through the kitchen door.
    â€œMom!” Simon shouted.
    â€œMom, where are you?” Henry called.
    â€œMom, we need you!” Jack yelled.
    They heard their mother’s exasperated sigh from the study. After a minute she emerged, pushing her glasses to the bridge of her nose. “All right, all right, here I am,” she said. “What’s the matter?”
    They all began talking at once.
    â€œMom, somebody took Josie!”
    â€œThis girl down the street has her—”
    â€œJosie is TRAPPED —”
    â€œYou have to do something!”
    Mrs. Barker held up a hand. “Boys, you have to calm down. I can’t understand a thing you’re saying. One at a time, please.”
    â€œMom!” Henry cried. “A girl has Josie and she’s holding her hostage .”
    Just then the doorbell rang. Their mother brushed past them. “Wait a sec. Someone’s at the door.”
    The boys charged after her. When she swung open the front door, there on the stoop was the girl, carrying Josie.
    She smiled at Mrs. Barker. “I think I found your cat,” she said politely.
    â€œJosie! Are we ever glad to see you!” Mrs. Barker swept Josie into her arms and cuddled her, smiling warmly. “And weren’t you sweet to bring her back.”
    â€œHey!” Jack protested. “She’s the one who stole her!”
    â€œNow, Jack,” Mrs. Barker said quickly, “that’s not nice.”
    â€œBut, Mom—” Jack spluttered. Mrs. Barker rested a hand firmly on his shoulder—the “hand of doom,” their father called it, because it meant that she didn’t intend to say something sharp in front of guests, but nonetheless, you were to stop whatever you were doing immediately—and continued to smile at the girl. “Josie likes to wander around the neighborhood. I hope she wasn’t bothering you.”
    â€œOh, no,” said the girl. “She comes over to my house a lot. I like her.”
    â€œAnd where do you live?” Mrs. Barker asked.
    The girl pointed down the street. “It’s a gray house. On Waltz Street.”
    â€œWell, it’s very nice to meet you. I’m Ellen Barker, and these are my sons … Jack, Simon, and Henry. What’s your name?”
    The girl hesitated, looking at Josie. “Delilah Dunworthy,” she said, a little shyly.
    Henry exchanged a skeptical glance with Simon. What kind of name was that?
    â€œWould you like to come inside?” Mrs. Barker asked. “Do you want something to drink? It’s so hot here—that’s the thing I can’t seem to get used to. Oh, and before I forget, let me get your reward.”
    â€œReward!” Simon cried. “That’s ridiculous. She took Josie.”
    â€œYeah,” Henry complained. “She wouldn’t give her back.”
    â€œI don’t know what you boys are talking about,” Mrs. Barker said sharply, and she looked at Henry the way she did whenever she said he was on thin ice, which was the verbal equivalent of the