“You—you wouldn’t do that, though,” said Cal, half questioningly. “You’re too nice a girl.”
The nice girl put her head back and laughed harder and merrier than ever, until Cal looked again toward the house and wondered if Miss Matilda could hear.
“You’re—you’re awfully funny,” she gasped finally. “Aren’t you?”
“I cal’late so, maybe,” answered Cal, willing to agree for the sake of diplomacy. “Is that pillow-case in a good safe place, Miss? You know if Miss Matilda got hold of it she’d show it to our principal and he’d— I don’t know what he’d do; suspend us, likely.”
“She won’t ever see it,” replied Molly reassuringly. “It’s in my trunk and my trunk’s locked and here’s the key.” She tugged at a little blue ribbon around her neck and drew forth the key in proof. “I’m keeping it as a trophy, you know. I mean the pillow-case. My, but it was fun!”
“It wasn’t you, was it?” cried Cal. Molly nodded with sparkling eyes.
“Yes. Want me to tell you all about it?”
“Yes, I do,” answered Cal.