Mr. North shook his head.
“I like strawberry shortcake,” he said, “but I’d never think of playing a joke with the one Rose baked.”
By this time Mrs. Bunker came back from the pantry whither she had gone to make a search.
“The shortcake isn’t there,” she said.
“Who could have taken it?” asked Norah.
“Maybe Jimsie!” suggested Russ.
“No dog could reach up to the high sill of the pantry window,” said Mrs. Bunker. “I can see where the cake was placed on the sill, for a little of the red juice ran out and made a stain. The cake was lifted out of the window, perhaps by some one from the outside.”
“I’ll have a look!” exclaimed Mr. Bunker.
He hurried outside to the pantry window at the back of the house, followed by Russ, Rose and the others. Supper was over except for the dessert, and this finish of the meal was to have been the shortcake. With this gone—well, there wasn’t any dessert, that’s all!
Mr. Bunker looked carefully under the window, motioning to the others to keep back so they would not trample in any footprints that might remain in the soft ground. Carefully Mr. Bunker looked and then he said: