“The word of—”
“A thief,” she finished. “All right. I’m in no hurry. What are you going to do?”
“We’ll wait here until some one comes along.”
“Then let’s go back to the trees while we wait,” she proposed, climbing out of the car and taking a small box from the seat.
“Didn’t Bender have one tiny good word for me?” she asked as they sat down in the welcome shade.
“He said stealing was the only offense you’d been up for, and he guessed you couldn’t help it. What was your little game in making him think you were stupid?”
“Did he say I was? Horrid thing! I’m glad I put one over on him and lifted this,” and she held up the box.
“What is it?” he demanded sternly.
“His supper. A peroxided wife brought it to him—just before he presented me to you. It’ll come in handy now, or won’t you partake of stolen goods?”
“I’ll pay him for it the next time I see him.”