NEXT morning at the orchard, the main topic of conversation was the loss of the crazy quilt.

Everyone agreed that Miss Gordon had left it lying under the oak tree. No one recalled seeing it after that.

“Pickers went to and from the orchard all day,” Miss Gordon declared. “Oh, dear, it was careless of me not to have locked it in the car. And to think how many long hours the Brownies spent on their beautiful blocks!”

“Maybe one of the Mexicans took it!” suggested Rosemary. “I saw that little boy they call Juan walking along the road about four o’clock.”

“Juan wouldn’t steal,” Veve said, going quickly to his defense. “He’s nice and I like him!”

“We mustn’t accuse anyone,” said Miss Gordon. “The fault was entirely my own. I’ll try somehow to make it up to the Brownies. Just at the moment, I can’t think of any way to do it. Every one of those stitches was precious.”

The Brownies felt the same way about their work. Not for anything in the world would they have sewed another quilt. They felt its loss very keenly.

“Does this mean we won’t have the quilt show or the auction?” Eileen asked.

“We can’t have the auction because we have no quilt to sell,” the teacher replied. “As for the show, I vote that we go on with it exactly as we planned.”

“So do I!” cried Connie, and all the other girls agreed.

Veve, however, was not as enthusiastic as the others, because she was afraid she never would find a quilt to display.

“I have another idea too!” Miss Gordon announced cheerfully.

The Brownies demanded to know what it was.

“Why not have a cherry festival in connection with our quilt show?” the teacher proposed. “It might help to draw a crowd and would be fun to plan.”

“Oh, that sounds exciting!” approved Connie. “How do we do it?”

Miss Gordon outlined her plans, and invited the girls to add their own suggestions. She had cut out petal patterns from which the girls could make artificial cherry blossoms to decorate booths.

“We can have paper lanterns decorated with the blossoms,” she went on. “Then you might like to select a festival queen. If so, we’ll need a throne.”

“Wouldn’t that mean a lot of work?” Eileen asked. Already she was feeling rather tired from so much cherry picking.

“The throne could be made quite easily by using a swing. The rope strands would be entwined with cherry blossoms. I think it would be nice if we had the festival out-of-doors. That is, if the weather is fair. We’ve had so much rain lately.”

One and all the Brownies liked Miss Gordon’s idea for the cherry festival. Somehow, planning for it eased the loss of their quilt.

“When will we have the festival?” Veve asked.

Miss Gordon said she thought the next week-end might be the best time. Although that did not give the Brownies very long for their preparations, they could do it if everyone worked together. And all the mothers had promised to help.

“I’ll make the posters tonight,” Miss Gordon offered. “As soon as you can, bring the promised quilts to my house.”

With the festival and quilt show almost at hand, Veve wondered what she would do for an exhibit.

Later that morning when she carried her pail of cherries to the shed for weighing, she asked Pa Hooper if he knew of anyone who might have a quilt she could borrow.

“Bless you, no,” he answered. “If my sister, Ella, were alive, she could give you a dozen of ’em. Ella made beautiful quilts.”

“Haven’t you any of them now?”

“Not a one, child. All the quilts burned when the house was destroyed. That was right after my sister died. All my papers and records were burned too. Everything I owned.”

Mr. Hooper sighed as he poured Veve’s cherries into a sorting bin.

“If everything hadn’t burned,” he hinted, “I might not find myself where I am now. I’d show that upstart, Carl Wingate, a thing or two! As it is, he holds the whip hand.”

Veve could not guess what the old man meant.

“Didn’t you save anything from the fire?” she asked. “Not a single thing?”

Pa Hooper waved his gnarled hand toward a far corner of the shed.

“Only that old trunk and bureau,” he said, pointing to two dusty, carpet-covered objects. “Neither of them contained anything of value.”

“Have you looked carefully, Mr. Hooper?”

“Most carefully, Miss Veve. I’d give a lot if I could find one of Ella’s old letters—in fact, anything bearing her signature.”

“You’re certain there isn’t an old letter somewhere in the trunk?”

“Quite certain.”

Veve hesitated a moment, and then said:

“Sometimes, Mr. Hooper, trunks have secret compartments or false bottoms. I know, because I’ve read about it in stories.”

Mr. Hooper chuckled as he stooped to pat Cap, who licked his hand.

“So you think my sister’s old trunk might have a secret compartment?”

“Couldn’t it?”

“My sister Ella wasn’t the type to hide anything. She was open and above board about everything she did. That’s why it seemed so queer about her will—”

The old man lapsed into deep thought without finishing what he had started to say. He seemed to forget that Veve was in the shed.

After awhile, recalling her presence, he said briskly: “Well, four more pounds of cherries to add to your total. You’re catching up with the others, Veve. Keep up the good work!”

“Yes, sir,” Veve agreed.

Then, because she was deeply interested in the old trunk and the bureau, she spoke of them again.

“Would you mind if I went through ’em sometime?” she asked. “Perhaps I might find an old letter of your sister’s. Mother says I have very sharp eyes.”

“I’ve looked through the trunk a dozen times,” Pa Hooper returned. “It’s a useless task.”

Observing Veve’s disappointment, he added quickly: “But you may search if you’re a mind to.”

“Right now?” Veve asked eagerly.

“I guess you could, only it will keep you from your cherry picking.”

“I’ll go through the trunk at the lunch hour,” Veve decided.

The little girl returned to the orchard to tell the Brownies of her plan. She found several of the girls gathered in a group around Jane.

“It’s been taken!” Jane was saying excitedly. “The Brownie pin was on my jeans and now it’s gone. It disappeared the same as the quilt did!”

Miss Gordon came down from her ladder to learn what was wrong.

Jane told her that she had worn the dancing elf pin that morning on her shirt. Only a few minutes before she had noticed that it was missing.

“You must have lost it somewhere in the orchard,” the Brownie leader declared. “But it isn’t right to suggest that someone took it.”

“Well, someone went off with our quilt!”

“That was a different matter, Jane. And I blame myself. I never should have left the coverlet under the tree.”

Jane made a great fuss over the loss of the pin. For nearly half an hour she gave up cherry picking and searched everywhere on the ground.

Several of the Brownies helped her. But they could not find the missing pin.

“It makes me fairly ill,” Jane said in a discouraged voice. “First our quilt—and now my pin. There must be someone dishonest in this orchard!”

“But Jane, no one could have taken the pin off your jeans without you having seen them,” Connie pointed out. “Besides, the pickers all seem very nice. I’m sure they wouldn’t steal.”

Besides the Brownies and their mothers, Pa Hooper had ten and sometimes twelve other persons picking for him. Everyone seemed friendly and pleasant.

The women pickers always spoke to the Brownies when they met them at the packing shed. Of course the girls had asked everyone about the missing quilt. No one had seen it. And now, no one knew anything about the lost pin.

After awhile the Brownies went back to their picking again. Even though Jane wanted them to keep looking for her pin, they felt they could not take any more time.

Veve told the girls about the trunk and the old bureau in the packing shed.

“Wouldn’t it be wonderful if I could find some of Ella Hooper’s handwriting!” she speculated. “If I could, maybe Pa Hooper wouldn’t have to give up his orchard!”

The morning was pleasantly cool. By now the Brownies had become fairly steady if not fast pickers. Of course, they could not keep up with the others. But there were so many of them that their total kept growing and growing.

“What will we do with all our money?” Connie mused.

“Go camping, or maybe on a long trip!” Eileen proposed instantly. “I’d like to go to New York City or maybe Washington!”

All the Brownies laughed, for the idea seemed quite impossible. Even if they picked cherries for a week, they knew they could not earn enough for a long trip. But just the thought of it excited them.

At noon the Brownies ate their luncheon as quickly as possible. Veve went to the spring, hoping to see the little Mexican boy again. He was not there, but as she bent down for a cool drink, she saw something bright and shining lying in the mud.

It was the missing Brownie pin!

“And Jane was so sure someone took it!” Veve chuckled, washing the emblem under the stream of water. “Wait until she hears about this!”

Racing back to the orchard, she gave the pin to Jane.

“Well, can you beat that!” the other girl exclaimed. “I remember now, I went to the spring a couple of hours ago. I guess the pin must have slipped off my jeans and I didn’t notice.”

“You see how unfair it is to accuse anyone when you aren’t sure,” added Rosemary severely.

“I didn’t accuse any one person,” Jane defended herself. “I just said it might have been someone. Anyway, our quilt still is missing!”

With lunch finished, Veve planned to get busy on the old trunk.

Before she could do so, however, Miss Gordon called the Brownies together.

“Girls, how would you like to ride to the canning factory?” she inquired.

“What would we do there?” Connie asked quickly. She was very much interested, as were all the Brownies.

“I thought we might see how cherries are canned commercially.”

“Will we go now in your car?” inquired Sunny.

Miss Gordon explained that they would ride with Bill Flint, a truck driver, who hauled Mr. Hooper’s cherries.

“Oh! We’re going in a truck?” Veve exclaimed. Immediately, she decided to postpone her examination of the old trunk. “That will be gobs of fun!”

“I thought you might enjoy it,” Miss Gordon smiled. “Bring your sweaters, girls. We may be gone for an hour or so.”

The mothers of the Brownies decided they would rather remain at the orchard. All of the girls, however, wanted to go.

Off they raced for their jackets and sweaters. Already Bill Flint was loading the truck with lugs of cherries.

“I’ll take Miss Gordon and two of the Brownies with me up front,” he told them. “The rest will have to stand up in the back. It’s not far, though, to the factory.”

Connie and Rosemary sat with the Brownie leader. The other girls climbed into the rear of the truck, finding a tiny space which was not loaded with boxes.

“Whoever saw so many cherries!” Veve marveled. “And just think! We picked most of ’em!”

Bill Flint started the big truck engine. It made such a roar that, for a minute, the girls could not hear their own voices.

The truck rattled off down the road, past the Wingate orchard. At the first corner it turned right, onto a wide paved road.

Before the truck had gone very far, the Brownies caught sight of another cherry hauler, directly ahead. And as they neared the factory, they saw more and more trucks, all laden with fruit.

“Everyone must be going to the cannery!” Veve laughed. Her words came out in jerks, for the truck at that moment was passing over a broken patch of pavement.

A moment later, the vehicle came to a complete standstill.

“What’s wrong?” called Eileen in alarm. “Do we have a flat tire?”

Bill Flint did not need to answer the questions. By looking ahead down the road, the Brownies could see an almost endless line of trucks. Bumper to bumper, they stood, waiting their turn to move up to the factory loading and unloading dock.

“Afraid we’re stuck here for awhile,” the truck driver said, switching off the motor.

Indeed, the Brownies were traffic locked. Until the cherry-laden trucks ahead moved up, they could not budge.