CHAPTER XXIII
FOOTPRINTS IN THE SNOW
For several seconds Fenn said nothing. He sat and gazed in blank dismay at the odd conglomeration on the plate that Frank had passed to him. At last he asked faintly:
“Is it—is it all this—this way?”
“Mine is,” declared Bart.
“And mine,” added Ned, while William simply passed up his plate for inspection.
“It’s a trick! A mean trick!” burst out Fenn indignantly. “And I know who did it! Frank Roscoe, you did this to get even with us for my mistake about putting soap powder in the cocoanut box, so that it got into the pancakes! But that wasn’t my fault.”
“You had no right to take the cocoanut out of a box, and put soap powder in without telling a fellow,” replied Frank. “If it hadn’t been for that my cakes would have been a success, and I suppose if you’d been more careful your plum pudding wouldn’t have so much trash in. As it is I don’t see how we can eat it,” and he poked gingerly at the mess on his plate.
“Well, you fellows may call this a joke, but I don’t!” burst out Fenn, now angry in earnest, and he started to leave the table.