“Oh!” cried the little girl, in delight. “Oh, my shortcake has come back!”
“Huh! I thought you said you didn’t have it!” exclaimed Russ, as the peddler lad lifted out the cake and handed it to Rose.
“Well, maybe I make a mistake and forget,” said the other.
“Huh, I guess you forgot on purpose!” declared Laddie.
By this time Mr. and Mrs. Bunker had come up. They saw that Rose had her shortcake again.
“Look here, young man,” said Mr. Bunker sternly to the peddler, “you mustn’t go about the country stealing things, you know! You may land in jail if you try that again.”
“It was all a mistake, I tell you!” said the shoe-lace peddler, who was really older in experience than a boy of his years should have been. “It was a mistake.”
“What do you mean—a mistake?” asked Mr. Bunker.
“Well, I saw the shortcake on the window, and I thought maybe it was to be thrown away, so I picked it up. I didn’t know anybody wanted it.”
“Well, you know now,” said Mr. Bunker grimly. “And you had better not try any more tricks like that. Are you sure you didn’t take anything more by mistake?”