"Mrs. Something-or-other Robbins, that tall woman with the earrings, told me the boys had been sent to Harwich for some more provisions, but they will be back right away."
"Rather a good-looking crowd of people, aren't they? And what a lot of work they've done. These tables were put up last night, and every family contributed some of this milder grub—I mean these foods on the tables, if I must be polite. The men dug the clams and furnished all the other things. I asked Tom how they managed. Look, there are Mabel and Madget down on the beach, right in the heart of the bake. I'll bet Tom told them they could hang around."
"Do you know what, Peggy?"
"What particular what?"
"Mabel is my last red-head."
"Well, she's my next to the last, come to think of it. It was lucky we went to the cattle show, and got all those white horses at once."
"I am not going to shake hands with anybody to-day. It's hard to remember, though. Just now I shook hands with Tom's father and his uncle."
"Those old men don't count, anyway."
"Are you sure? Tom's uncle is quite a young widower, Mother says."
"Well, you don't have to worry, because you didn't have Mabel when you shook hands. Now is the time to look out."