That wasn’t hard to do, for it was already getting toward dusk, and when they stood on the front porch and rang the door-bell they had the light behind them. Footsteps sounded inside and Spud pulled his cap down. “Look innocent, Cal,” he whispered, “look innocent!”
Cal assumed what he fondly believed to be an expression of lamb-like innocence but which came nearer to being a look of utter idiocy, and then the door was opened and the unexpected apparition of a girl of about their own age confronted them. The messengers, who had expected to see one of the Old Maids, were so surprised that for a moment neither of them did anything but stare. Finally, though, it was Spud who blurted:
[“Good evening. We—we came for the apples.”]
The young lady in the doorway seemed to find this announcement distinctly amusing. She smiled and then she laughed; and then, doubtless observing the bewildered expressions on the faces before her, she stopped laughing very suddenly and said:
“I didn’t mean to laugh, really.”
Whereupon Spud murmured “Much obliged” rather vaguely, and Cal, to whom girls other than his sister Nan were novel and perplexing creatures, showed a decided disposition to retreat and leave negotiations in the hands of his companion.
“Won’t you come in?” asked the girl demurely. “I’ll tell Aunt Matilda that you’re here.”
“I guess we’ll wait outside,” answered Spud. “We just came for the apples.”
“I know.” The extraordinary young lady again showed evidences of amusement as she turned away, and Spud was almost certain that he heard her giggling as she retreated down the hall. He turned to Cal with a puzzled look.