“He has weak eyes,” Chicken Little was delightfully definite.
“Why, it must be Ernest!”
Katy smiled a self-conscious little smirk and the others nodded joyfully.
“Of course, how stupid I was. Let’s see—you go after dark and hang the baskets on the door knob, then ring the bell and run—isn’t that the way? That’s the way we used to do with our comic valentines.”
The little girls were not the only ones who came consulting Marian that day. Three rather sheepish boys appeared so promptly after the girls departed, that Marian suspected they had been hanging around waiting for the children to go.
“Say, Marian, do you s’pose you could help us fix up some of those May basket things everybody’s talking about?”
“It’s a little late in the day, Ernest. How many do you boys want?”
Ernest looked at Sherm and Sherm looked at Carol, and Carol saw something out of the window that interested him.
At length, Ernest, getting no assistance from the others, blurted out:
“One’s enough for me. What do you say, boys?”