shouldn't be surprised but what he was planning some joke. Oh,
dear! I wish he was more steady, and wasn't always up to some
mischief. Still, he's a good boy at heart, and perhaps he'll grow
better when he gets older."

She rubbed her left cheek with the back of her hand, leaving a big
patch of flour under one eye. Then she called once more.

"Bob! Bob Henderson! Where are you? I want you to go to the
store."

"Here I am, mother. Were you calling me?" asked a boy, emerging
from behind a big apple tree.

He was not a bad-looking lad, even if his nose did turn up a bit,
though his hair was tinged with red, and his face covered with
freckles. His blue eyes, however, seemed to sparkle with mischief.

"Did I call you?" repeated Mrs. Henderson. "I'm hoarse after the
way I had to shout--and you within hearing distance all the while!
Why didn't you answer me?"

"I guess I was so busy thinking, mom, that I didn't hear you."

"Thinking? More likely thinking of some trick! What's that you've
got?"

"Nothing," and Bob tried to stuff pieces of paper into a basket
that was already filled to overflowing.