“Count me in, too,” added Mary Lee. “There, I’m ready for the fray,” she said buckling a leather belt around her trim little waist and picking up her golf cape. “I’ll run next door and see what Nan is thinking about.”
“Give my love to her and tell her to study up her fire motive; we’ll want it later in the day,” said Jo.
Mary Lee found Nan already dressed and hunting around for her rubber boots. Jean and Jack occupied the tent with her and they, too, were on hands and knees looking under the cots for the lost articles.
“What are you all doing?” asked Mary Lee.
“Looking for my rubber boots,” Nan told her.
“Sillies! Don’t you remember, Nan, you lent them to Florence Yardley one day? She probably hasn’t returned them. I’ll go over and get them as long as I am prepared for wet weather.”
“Oh, thanks,” said Nan gratefully. “That is good of you, Mary Lee. Never mind, kiddies, they’re probably across the street.”
“It’s a pretty wet street,” said Jean looking out at the drenched path upon which the drops were steadily pouring from the overhanging trees. “What are you going to do, Nan, to-day?”
“Oh, sit by the fire and spin, I suppose. It will be a good day in which to darn stockings, write letters, mend, and read.”
“Goodness!” cried Jack. “Such hateful things, all but the reading, and one gets tired of that all day. What are you going to do, Jean?”