“Spud, you’re an idiot,” laughed Ned. “I, for one, vote for baked apples, and lots of them.”
“Seconded,” cried Sandy. “Likewise apple pie.”
“Let’s have the pie without the bakes,” suggested Dutch. “I can always eat pie.”
“You can always eat anything,” replied Sandy severely. “And you’re too fat already. No pie for you, Dutch.”
When supper was over Cal and Spud started for the apples. As they went out the gate Ned called after them softly.
“Say, fellows, change caps or something so they won’t recognize you!”
“I wonder if they will,” said Spud uneasily as they went down the street toward the Curtis gate. “I sort of wish they’d keep their old apples to themselves, Cal.”
“I don’t believe it was either of the Miss Curtises that we saw last night,” answered Cal. “They wouldn’t be roaming around in the orchard at that time of night.”
“N-no, but it must have been someone! And who the dickens was it? Here we are. Let’s sort of keep our faces hidden as much as we can, Cal.”