“The blame was partly mine, and I’m paying for it,” Dan said quickly. “I went out to Treuhaft’s place yesterday. He wasn’t there and his wife was pretty snippy with me. So I figure we won’t get those freezers now.”
“There must be others in Webster City. But we’ll have to hustle if we get them in time for Friday. Guess I’d better name a special committee to look after the job and see that the ice cream is ready in time for the party. Any volunteers?”
“I’ll do my best,” Dan offered.
“Good! I’ll appoint Chub, Red and Chips to help you. Fred and Midge are to look up the matter of getting ice and rock salt. Mrs. Holloway has promised to help with the ice cream mixture. What kind’ll we have?”
“Tutti fruiti,” piped up Chips.
“You would think of something like that, you drip!” Midge accused. “We’re having something simple like vanilla.”
“Let’s compromise on strawberry,” Brad suggested. “All in favor, say ‘aye.’ Opposed? The ayes have it.”
By this time it was ten minutes to five, and the Cubs began to shift uneasily in their chairs. Mr. Hatfield never had been so late before.
“I’ll bet he’s been in an auto accident,” Chips began to speculate. “Something has happened or he’d be here.”
“I could telephone his house,” Brad said reluctantly.