“Anyway,” claimed Silvia hopefully, “it’s a treat to see woods, water, and sky unconfined.”
She devoted the remainder of the morning 72 to unpacking and after luncheon set off to explore the woods, borrowing from the landlady a little cart for Diogenes to ride in. My plan to go in swimming was delayed by my garrulous landlord.
I was just starting for the lake when I heard sounds from the woods that alarmed the landlord but which I instantly recognized as the Polydore yell. A moment later I saw Silvia emerging at full speed into the open, drawing the cart in which Diogenes was doubled up like a jackknife. I hastened to meet them.
“Oh, Lucien,” exclaimed my wife tearfully, “we are bitten to bits! Just look at poor little Di!”
I lifted the howling child from the cart. His face, neck, and hands were stringy and purplish––a cross between an eggplant and a round steak.
“Mosquitoes!” explained Silvia. “They 73 came in flocks and they advertised particularly ‘no mosquitoes.’”
A dour-faced guest paused in passing.
“There aren’t––many,” she declared. “Very few, in fact, compared to the number of black flies, sand fleas, and jiggers. However, you’ll find more discomfort from the poison ivy, I imagine.”
“Lucien,” began Silvia in lament.
“Never mind!” I hastened to console, “you are out of the woods now, and you won’t have to go in again. I presume they have an antidote up at the house. I’ll give you and Diogenes first aid and then we will all go down to the lake shore. You can both sit on the dock and watch me swim.”