VIII
THE MISSING CAKE
It was pretty warm that Saturday afternoon, but a strong southerly breeze was blowing. Vendla had just set the last clean dishes on the pantry shelf, and gone up-stairs, when her mistress heard the sound of something falling, and, going into the pantry, found that the screen had fallen out of the window. Jimmy stood just outside, talking with John, and the screen had fallen close to Jimmy’s feet.
“Here, little one,” said John, “if you’ll hand that up to me, I’ll pound it in so it won’t come out. But what made you ask about quicksands?”
“Oh, to tell Dick Somers! He won’t believe a word I say.”
“That’s the little fellow from New York, is it? Well, you tell him it’s all true. He can sink up to his ears in a quicksand, and he may try it if he wants to.”
“There! there! I knew it all the time,” cried Jimmy. “I wish you’d tell him I did see two live rattlesnakes, and I did see—oh, lots of road-runners! He thinks I’m a pretty nearly fool! Almost!”
Mrs. Dunlee heard this scrap of conversation as Jimmy was entering the house. He came along to the pantry, looking rather vexed and discontented. His mother suspected he was thinking of the New York boy, and wondered a little that he should be so anxious to go that very afternoon to return his visit. Dick did not seem to be a very agreeable companion, yet he had a sort of fascination for Jimmy.
Jimmy-boy lingered about the pantry. The frosted cake “made by a new rule” sat cooling on a platter, and the flies outside on the window-screen were wildly longing to get in and have a share; but the wire they beat against was hard and strong, and would not let them in.
Jimmy did not blame the flies for desiring the cake. It was certainly beautiful to behold. Could Dick Somers ever have seen anything more spotlessly fair, even in the great city of New York?