“I wish I’d never gone,” he murmured miserably.
“I guess we all wish that—now,” said Sandy dryly. “If the Old Maids find that pillow-case there’ll be the dickens to pay.”
“What does it matter?” asked Dutch gloomily. “Someone saw us swiping the apples and saw us come over here. That pillow-case will only be supervacaneous evidence.”
“Don’t use bad words, Dutch,” said Hoop sternly.
“Just the same,” said Sandy, “someone ought to go over and bring that back, I think.”
There was no enthusiasm displayed. The silence grew embarrassing.
“Whose pillow-case was it?” asked Hoop finally.
“Mine,” answered Cal.
“Well, then you’d better go back and get it. If you don’t you may get us all into worse trouble than we’re in. We don’t know for sure that that thing—or person, or whatever it was, really saw us come over here. But if the Old Maids find that pillow-case under the tree with ‘West House’ marked on it in indelible ink they’ll have us bad.”