“We’ll be all right,” declared Fred, hastily, and the others echoed his assurance.
Mr. Williamson waited till he had seen Joe Anderson and Albert well up the street on their way home, and then he and the other two fathers went back to the Larue house.
“Perhaps,” said Artie, as the girls and boys found themselves in the kitchen again, “we’d better not try any more stunts outdoors.”
“Huh, they won’t bother us again—you see if they do!” said Fred, but Polly and Margy wouldn’t hear of any more trips to the garden.
“Anyway, it’s time we had the eats,” declared Margy, wisely.
She knew the boys could never resist that suggestion, and, sure enough, as she brought out the plates of sandwiches and doughnuts and the little pumpkin tarts Mrs. Williamson had left for them, no one had to be dragged to the table. There was milk to drink, and afterward they popped corn and buttered and ate it. They were surprised when Mr. and Mrs. Williamson walked in and announced that it was ten o’clock and time for all parties to be over.
“I promised your mothers that you’d come home at once,” said Mrs. Williamson, so there was no excuse for lingering.
In school the next day, Albert Holmes was not exactly pleasant—his mother had been much “put out” because of the damage done her linen, and Albert persisted in blaming the Riddle Club members for this damage. Joe Anderson spread the report that Fred had nearly broken his arm. He allowed his listeners to infer that Fred had attacked him, but most of the boys and girls were too well acquainted with Joe to believe that all the blame could be on one side.
“I’ll be glad when it gets real cold,” said Carrie Pepper to her chum, Mattie Helms. “I hope we have snow up to the windows of the houses and tons and tons of ice.”
“Yes,” said Mattie. “I like to go skating, too. But I can’t skate very well. My ankles are weak.”