“Say!” blurted out Willie, finally, as Bob and Tom were racing past them in a boisterous game of “tag.” “We wanter go back. This ain’t no fun—is it, Dickie?”
“Nope,” said his twin.
“Go on back, if you want to. You know the path,” said Bobbins, breathlessly.
“We’re goin’, too,” said one of the other fresh airs.
“We’d rather play with the girls than stay here. Hadn’t we, Dickie?” proposed Willie Raby.
“Yep,” agreed Master Dickie, with due solemnity.
“Go on!” cried Bob. “And see you go straight back to the house. My!” he added to Tom, “but those kids are a nuisance.”
“Think we ought to let them go alone?” queried Tom, with some faint doubt on the subject. “You reckon they’ll be all right, Bobbins?”
“Great Scott! they sure know the way to the house,” said Bob. “It’s a straight path.”
But, as it happened, the twins had no idea of going straight to the house. The pond was fed by a stream that ran in from the east. The little fellows had seen this, and Willie’s idea was to circle around through the woods and find that stream. There they could go in bathing like the bigger boys, “and nobody would ever know.”