“She was stooped over,” he said to himself. “But she may have dropped a letter. Anyway, I don’t suppose she would take the bank if she found it.”
Then he remembered Polly’s pin.
“She might think it would plague me,” he thought. And he had to admit that if that was Carrie’s plan—always provided she had found the bank—she could not think of a better plan for teasing him.
“Well, it isn’t here, that’s all,” declared Artie, brushing the snow off his gloves after an unsuccessful grubbing about in the snow. “I don’t see what you could have done with it, Fred.”
“Oh, Fred!” Jess’s voice came to them out of the storm. “Is that you? I came back to look for my glove. I don’t suppose you’ve seen it?”
“Your glove?” repeated Fred. “Is that lost?”
“Yes, it is, and it’s a brand new one,” returned Jess, ready to cry. “Mother got them for me when she went to the city. They’re brushed wool, and they’re gauntlets, and they cost six dollars!”
“Gee, that’s tough luck,” said Artie, sympathetically. “But I don’t believe you lost it around here, Jess. I’ve been all around the snowman on my hands and knees, and I would have found it if it had been anywhere around.”
“Did you lose something, too?” asked Jess, surprised.
Fred was in no mood to hide his troubles.