Things had come to such a pass that when on Friday evening, after the Camp singsong, Clara felt Emma's arm slip through hers, the VanSittart pride positively glowed. It was the first time that Pip-Emma had seemed to notice Clara—which was a humiliation in itself, seeing that Pip-Emma was really Clara's own idea. And Clara, thanks to Prissy's training diet, was low in her mind anyway.
"Guess what I've found!" Pip-Emma whispered.
But of course Clara couldn't guess anything.
"I've found where they've got all tomorrow's ice cream. Buckets and buckets of it."
Clara, as top Penguin, wavered. Some lingering Penguin rectitude still glowed in her, but only faintly. After all, she was hungry. She was being starved to death. And no one cared. Only Emma Binns seemed to know what she was suffering.
"Dare you!" Pip-Emma said.
It was Clara's chance. Now she could show the stuff in her. Being born on Park Avenue didn't mean necessarily that you were a dumb cluck. She let Pip-Emma lead her by devious paths through the deserted kitchen. Then to the huge icebox. And there it was—buckets and buckets! Clara's first handful didn't even make a dent.
"I bet I can eat more than you can," Pip-Emma said.
At breakfast the next morning Miss Thornton made an unusual appearance. She was grave and even troubled.
"Children, a serious thing has happened. Last night someone must have broken all our Camp rules. Someone opened the icebox and ate several pints of our ice cream. I hope—I'm sure—the culprit will stand up at once and not spoil our happy day for us."