"I was looking but it was so dark that the eyes I carry at the back of my head could not see you!" chuckled Zan, to whom a spill more or less in the wet woods meant nothing.
"I'll have my death of cold as it is, to say nothing of walking in bare feet through this soaked grass!" complained Elena.
"Instead of grumbling you ought to be glad you won't get anything worse than your death! Wet feet can't harm you if you've gone the limit, anyway!" retorted Zan, irritatingly.
"I wish my mother knew of the way I am soaked!" Elena continued, whining.
"Well, she won't, thank goodness! She'd use every speck of mustard in our cupboard, and keep us up all night to heat water in which to roll you and the mustard!" Zan replied.
"Are you two going to keep us here all night while you quarrel over some one who isn't here, nor even expected?" asked Jane, peevishly.
Miss Miller had quietly chosen the way back, determined to go about the grove if necessary, so she had not heard the altercation between Elena and Zan.
By taking the round-about way to reach the house the weary and worn Band did not cross the front lawn, but arrived at the back door. As the doors were never locked they soon were indoors and before the fire-place where Nita's log still blazed cheerily up the chimney.
"Girls, have any of you seen Wickee since he followed us to the woods this afternoon?" said Zan, suddenly.