“Did anything happen?” asked the farmer.
“I—I rode one of your calves,” answered Ted. “But I—I didn’t mean to.”
“Hum!” said grandpa, and there was a twinkle in his eyes. “Calves aren’t made to ride. You might get hurt. Don’t do it again.”
Of course Ted promised that he would not and then, having picked up the piece of clothesline, which he had used as a lasso, the Curlytop boy, with his sister and the lame boy, started back for the Cherry Farm house with grandpa.
“I came over to ask Mrs. Martin to bake a cake for the fair we’re going to have,” said Hal to Ted’s grandfather. “Jan said she’s made ’em before for the Home.”
“Yes, and I guess she’ll make one this time,” said Grandpa Martin slowly. “I’d like to help some myself—giving money—but this year I’m too poor, I’m sorry to say.”
“Oh, well, I guess somebody else will give money,” said Hal cheerfully. “The chocolate cake will be great.”
“Will you get any of it to eat?” asked Jan.
“Well, no, not exactly. You see folks bake pies, cookies, cakes and so on, and they’re sold to the visitors who come to the fair.
“The last fair they had the folks most generally took the cakes they bought home with ’em, so we didn’t get any. But maybe it’s better so,” he added, though he could not help sighing a little. “We’re not supposed to have much cake. The doctors and nurses say it isn’t good for us.”