“On one of my errands, Paul; so don’t be inquisitive.”
Had he dreamed that Aunt Hulda’s defence of his boy had turned his wife’s sympathies in her direction, and that there was likely to be a shower of goodies poured into the spinster’s lap, he might have been inquisitive, instead of shouting at that particular moment,—
“Hang it! there’s that boy again! and with my apples, too! He shan’t escape me this time. No, no.” And the captain darted from the room, and out into the road, bare-headed.
Teddy Sleeper had waited two hours, in the woods behind the orchard the return of Becky, supposing that, as she was the leader of the expedition, after decoying the captain to a safe distance, she would return to rescue her follower; for Teddy had not sufficient reliance on his own skill to venture either an attack or a retreat. At last, getting weary, he crept out into the lane, and from there into the main street, and started for home. But as he neared the church he was waylaid by a half a dozen of his cronies, just returning from a game of base ball, and, of course, very hungry. Catching sight of the fruit stowed away in Teddy’s jacket, they set up a roar of delight, and surrounded him.
“Hooray! Ted’s made a haul!”
“Divy’s the thing—hey, Ted?”
“O, come, Ted, don’t be mean.”
“But they ain’t mine; they’re Becky’s,” said Teddy, warding off the snatches at his plunder as best he could with his elbows.
“Becky’s—are they? Hooray! She won’t care. Divy, Ted. She’s the best fellow in town.”