"Well, that's the same thing. How can you go over to Mrs. Grinnell's and stay in your chair?"
"Easy enough. I'll take it along. Gail didn't tie our hands."
Allee gasped. "But you can't carry the cake, too!"
"I'll put the cake in the big egg basket and you'll take hold on one handle and I the other. That will leave us each a free hand to hold onto our chairs with."
"Oh!"
"Will you do it?"
"Course."
With some difficulty they rose to their feet, made their way into the pantry once more and found the market basket; but it was another task to get the heavy cake into it, and they were almost in despair, when Peace's fertile mind found a solution to the problem.
"It's 'cause my chair keeps slipping that I can't do it," she said, after several vain attempts to lift the cake. "I have only one hand to pick this heavy thing up with. Stick this piece of string through the back of my chair, Allee, and I'll tie it to the arms in front. There, that makes straps and holds the chair better. It cuts into your shoulders, though, doesn't it? Never mind, it won't be so bad when we get started and can hold onto the chairs. Are you ready? Don't make any noise, for Gail mustn't hear us."
Slowly, cautiously, they tiptoed across the kitchen floor, let themselves out, and with wildly beating hearts hurried, as fast as the bumping chairs tied to their backs would permit, toward the tiny red cottage where Mrs. Grinnell lived all alone. Owing to their burdens, they made slow progress, and both conspirators expected any moment to hear Gail in pursuit. But it chanced that the busy housekeeper was too much occupied in the front chambers to discover their absence, and they reached the red house all out of breath, but without a mishap.