“I see some one fishing off the bridge,” remarked Russ. “Maybe it’s that boy.”
As the three Bunkers came nearer they could see a boy sitting on the bridge railing, holding a pole from which a line was dangling in the water that flowed under the bridge. And when the children drew a little nearer they could make out that the fisher was the shoe-lace peddler boy.
Almost at the same time that they recognized him, the boy knew them, and he sprang down from the bridge railing, began winding up his line and started to pick up his box and basket.
“Here, you! Wait a minute!” ordered Russ.
“I don’t have to wait!” sneered the peddler. “There’s no fish here, so why should I wait?”
“You’ve got something that we want!” went on Rose, drawing nearer with Russ, while Laddie began looking about for a club or a stone.
“You said you didn’t want anything,” grumbled the peddler. “I was up by your house, and you wouldn’t buy any shoe laces nor collar buttons yet, so why should it be you come running after me now?”
“Because you have my shortcake!” burst out Rose indignantly. “You took my strawberry shortcake and I want it back.”
“I should have taken your shortcake, little girl?” cried the boy, as if greatly surprised. “You are mistaken! Why should you say I have your shortcake?”
“Because you were the only one around the house after the shortcake was set in the pantry window to cool,” said Russ boldly. “And my father saw your footprints under the window.”