"But where do we get it?" the literal-minded Shirley demanded.
"Oh, we go out and hunt for it," said Sarah. "Don't let anybody see you—remember we're robbers."
And she opened the windmill door cautiously and peered out.
There was no one in sight and the two little girls crept out and sped to the nearest tree with a delicious sense of excitement. If they had turned around and seen someone chasing them, they would not have been surprised.
"Take a stone," said Sarah. "Take a stone for loot. A little one, Shirley—that one by your foot."
Shirley picked it up and dropped it immediately with a little cry.
"Did you drop it on your foot?" asked Sarah.
"What's the matter?"
"Horrid, nasty little bugs under that," Shirley announced, pointing with a dainty pink forefinger at the stone she had sent crashing back to earth.
"Well, a few bugs never hurt anyone," proclaimed Sarah. "I only hope you haven't mashed any; when will you learn not to be afraid of bugs, Shirley?"