Ned observed her frankly and gravely.
“I do not,” he replied. “And I don’t believe it was mine. At least, I had both last night.”
“Did you? Well, then it must have been lost this morning. Perhaps Hulda dropped it somewhere.”
“I hope she didn’t drop it on the stairs,” said Spud anxiously.
“Why?” asked Marm.
“I might slip on it,” was the sober reply. Marm wondered why the fellows laughed and had to have the joke explained to her by Hoop.
“Maybe,” The Fungus began, “the same person swiped the pillow-case that took Ned’s eight—”
But he stopped there, pretending to choke on a mouthful of baked potato. It had been agreed last evening that there was no use in troubling Marm about Ned’s loss.
“Fungus,” said Sandy in his blandest tones, “do you realize that you sometimes talk too much?”