“No, I take nothing more,” answered the boy sullenly, as he fastened his box again, and, slinging that and his basket of wares over his shoulder, away he walked. He was quite angry at being caught, it appeared.
“Oh, I’m so glad I got my shortcake back!” cried Rose. “Now we can eat it when we get back to the house.”
“Do you think it was kept clean?” asked her mother.
But they need not have worried on that score. Whatever else he was, the peddler boy seemed clean, and he had wrapped a clean paper about the short cake before putting it in his box. To be sure some of the strawberries on top were crushed and a little of their red juice had run down the sides of the cake.
“But that doesn’t matter, ’cause we got to smash it a lot more when we eat it,” said Laddie.
Which, of course, was perfectly true.
So Rose’s shortcake came back to Farmer Joel’s and they sat down to the table again and ate it. Dessert was a little late that evening, but it was liked none the less.
“Busy day to-morrow, children!” said Farmer Joel, as the six little Bunkers went up to bed.
“What doing?” asked Russ.
“Getting in the hay!” was the answer. “Those who can’t help can ride on the hay wagon.”