And of course it was rather clever of them, the girl reflected, to take a picnic when they could get it. If they hadn’t done so, she didn’t quite see, judging by the portion of a day she had so far observed, how they could have got any picnics at all. The method utilized scraps of time, left-overs and between-times, that were good for little else. It was a rather arresting discovery, to find out that people could divert themselves without giving up their whole time to it. But, after all, it wasn’t a method for her. She was positive on that point. It seemed the least little 58 bit common, too—such whole-hearted absorption as the Camerons showed in pursuits that were just plain work.
“Stan,” she demanded, late that afternoon, “is there any tennis here?”
“Not so you’d notice it. What are you thinking of, in war-time, Elliott? Uncle Samuel expects every farmer to do his duty. All the men and older boys around here have either volunteered or been drafted. So we’re all farmers, especially the girls. Quod erat demonstrandum. Savvy?”
“Any luncheons?”
“Meals, Lot, plain meals.”
“Parties?”
Stannard threw up his hands. “Never heard of ’em!”
“Canoeing?”
“No water big enough.”
“I suppose nobody here thinks of motoring for pleasure.”