"Well!"
"I tell you what," Bobby said. "Let's go up to his house and tell his mother. We know he did this, even if we didn't see him. Of course, we got him mad first—"
"We didn't have to get him mad," declared Fred. "He's mad all the time."
"Well, we plagued him. He just was getting square."
"But such a mean trick to steal a fellow's clothes!"
"Maybe his folks will see it that way and make Applethwaite give them back."
"But I can't go up there to the house with only these old tights on!" said Fred.
"No," and Bobby couldn't help grinning a little. "You wear my jacket."
"And if I have lost my clothes," wailed Fred, "and have to go home this way, my father will give it to me good! Come on!"
"Let's each find a good club. That dog, you know," said Bobby.