“We’re all going as cowboys,” Jimmy called down from the fork of a tall tree.
“How original of you,” Marjorie said sarcastically. “And it shows how lazy you are too. All you have to do is stuff the legs of your jeans in boots, tie bandannas around your necks, and borrow toy guns and holsters from kids in the village.”
“So what?” Alf demanded. “With masks on nobody will recognize us, not even you two.”
“We wouldn’t even try,” Judy informed him airily. “There’ll probably be so many cowboys here that night it would be like trying to find a needle in a haystack.”
“I hope Mr. X wears something more original,” Marjorie said without thinking.
“Er--nobody,” Marjorie said hastily. The Allens, at Peter’s suggestion, had decided not to share their secret with any of the other guests.
“If too many people know that we’re planning to set a trap,” he had said, “it won’t be long before Mr. X knows too.”
To change the subject Marjorie said to Brook: “Phil and Penny wrote to New York and they heard today that I can get into that small boarding school I told you about. It’s up on the Hudson. Golly, I hate to think of going away from here.”
“I know how you feel,” Brook said sympathetically. “But just the same I’m glad you’re going to a school that isn’t very far from mine. When we have dances, you’ll come as my guest, won’t you?”
Marjorie blushed. She _did_ like Brook, and it would be fun to go to school dances with him, but she wished he hadn’t asked her when Jimmy was around. Jimmy thought it was fun to tease Judy Powell, but Marjorie knew that he thought girls were a nuisance. He also thought that boys who asked girls to parties were dopes. She waited tensely for the caustic remark she knew was coming.
To her surprise, Jimmy said nothing. He climbed down from the fork of the tree and gave her a look which said plainer than words:
“Watch your step, stupid. You almost let the cat out of the bag.”
And then Marjorie realized to her dismay that all of the others were staring at her curiously. Every one of them had heard her blurt out: “I hope Mr. X wears something more original.” They were overcome with curiosity but they were all too polite to ask any more questions.
Hastily Marjorie said, “Aren’t you all starving? I’ll go ask Ann Mary if I can’t fix some lemonade and raid the cooky jar.”