"Send Chicken Little then."

"She's gone for a walk with Katy and Gertie."

"Thunderation! I've got to have somebody. Won't you please call Mother?"

At this moment three girlish forms slipped into the grape arbor immediately below the boys' window, and concealed themselves in its deepest shadow.

Mrs. Morton came patiently home to attend to the needs of her favorite son.

"What is it, Ernest?"

"Where did you put our Sunday clothes?"

"Dear me, aren't they in the closet?"

"In the closet? Do you suppose I'd call you home if they were in the closet? They aren't anywhere!" Ernest's tone verged on the disrespectful.

Mrs. Morton toiled upstairs with a sigh. Was there to be a repet.i.tion of the bread episode?

Ernest had spoken the truth, the aforesaid clothes were not anywhere.

The boys exchanged glances both wrathful and sheepish. Ernest had already exhausted every swear word that his mother's presence permitted.

Sherm, also restrained by her presence--he had retired to bed while she searched their room and closet--thought all the exclamations he hesitated to utter. Three young young ladies in the arbor beneath listened to such fragments of conversation as floated down to them with unholy glee.

"Well, Ernest, they're certainly not here; I'll go look in Chicken Little's room."

Ernest accompanied her. Sherm scrambled out of bed and speedily resumed his ordinary wearing apparel. He was startled to perceive a bulky object suddenly darken their window. It was a peculiar-looking bundle from which coat sleeves and trousers' legs dangled indiscriminately. He had no difficulty in recognizing their missing clothes. He rushed to the window and raised the screen, calling to Ernest excitedly. He half expected to see the things disappear as mysteriously as they had come, but the bundle remained stationary. It had been raised to the window by means of a pulley contrived from an old clothes line and the hanging basket hook. The end of the cord was hidden in the arbor.

The boys secured their possessions, hastily a.s.suring themselves that they were all there. Mrs. Morton started thankfully downstairs, but had barely reached the foot when a vigorous exclamation and a loud "Mother!"

recalled her.

Mrs. Morton had never seen Ernest so furious. Sherm didn't say much, but his face was wrathfully red.

"What now?"

"Look at this!" Ernest's voice was tragic as he held the garment up to view. His trousers' legs had been neatly st.i.tched across twice on the sewing machine. Sherm's, ditto. All four pair of sleeves were also carefully st.i.tched with a tight tension, so they could not be readily ripped out.

Mrs. Morton looked aghast. "It will take an hour to get that out!"

"Confound those kids! Mother, you can just make those smarties come rip that st.i.tching out!"

"My son, whom are you addressing?"

"Well, Mother, I didn't mean to be disrespectful, but this is a little more than I can stand! Wait till I get my hands on Jane!"

"You would do well to remember, Ernest, that you started this practical joking yourself. I hope it will be a lesson to you to refrain from such pranks in future."

"We didn't do anything but carry the bread over to the Captain without telling them. That's where they wanted it to go."

Mrs. Morton gasped. "Did you take the whole baking?"

"Sure, wasn't that what you wanted?"

Mrs. Morton considered a moment before replying.

"Well, Ernest, you boys have brought this annoyance upon yourselves--I think you will have to accept the consequences. I am too tired to fuss with the st.i.tching to-night. If you go to Jenkinses you will have to wear your every day suits."

"But Mother!"

Mrs. Morton was already descending the stairs; she did not respond.

Ernest turned in despair to Sherm, who was examining the neat st.i.tching ruefully.

Sherm grinned; "Guess we might as well take our medicine. Score one for the kids!"

"I think they might take a joke the way it was intended."

"They seem to have taken the joke and a few other things besides."

Sherm chuckled. Ernest laughed, too, a little sulkily.

"We're elected to stay at home all right, but I'll get ahead of them if it takes a month!"

By the time the boys had rearrayed themselves and come downstairs, the occupants of the grape arbor had vanished. They didn't return until the enemy had departed for a ride to soothe its ruffled feelings.

The girls retired to bed early, as innocent young people should.

"Did you have a good time at Mamie's last night?" asked Chicken Little at breakfast the next morning.

"Mamie's? We didn't go to Mamie's."

"No? I thought you intended to." This from Katy.

"You girls do get the queerest notions in your heads," observed Ernest loftily.

Gertie giggled. The boys looked at Gertie; they hadn't suspected Gertie.

Katy also giggled, likewise Chicken Little. There is something exceedingly contagious about giggling.

Ernest became even loftier.

"You girls seem to spend about half your time cackling--I hope you know what you are cackling about."

"We do," retorted Chicken Little, still sweetly.

Ernest and Sherm exchanged glances. After breakfast Ernest asked his mother if she had told the girls what happened the night before.

"Not a word. They didn't ask me."

"Humph!" The boy was puzzled.