“Why, I thought Rachel brought the cake,” she said aloud. “It must be in the house; there’s other things to get, anyway. I’ll go back.”
Again the click of the door brought the small boy close to the table. Filling both hands with sandwiches, he slipped behind the shrub just as the ladies came out of the house together. Rachel carried a small tray laden with sauce and tarts; Tabitha, one with water and steaming tea. As they neared the table each almost dropped her burden.
“Why, where’s my cake?”
“And my sandwiches?”
“There’s the plate it was on!” Rachel’s voice was growing in terror.
“And mine, too!” cried Tabitha, with distended eyes fastened on some bits of bread and meat--all that the small brown hands had left.
“It’s burglars--robbers!” Rachel looked furtively over her shoulder.
“And all your lovely cake!” almost sobbed Tabitha.
“It--it was yours, too,” said the other with a catch in her voice. “Oh, dear! What can have happened to it? I never heard of such a thing--right in broad daylight!” The sisters had long ago set their trays upon the ground and were now wringing their hands helplessly. Suddenly a small figure appeared before them holding out four sadly crushed sandwiches and half of a crumbling cake.
“I’m sorry--awful sorry! I didn’t think--I was so hungry. I’m afraid there ain’t very much left,” he added, with rueful eyes on the sandwiches.