Brick paused in the act of wringing out his best and only flannel shirt, straightened, took one look at the glittering limousine, and whistled.
“Whew! Will you look at the golden chariot!” he exclaimed to himself. “Brick, my boy, can it be that a young millionaire is comin’ to Camp Lenape?”
He bent his flaming mop of copper-colored hair over the tub once more, but kept a watchful blue eye on the big car, which had now drawn up beside the kitchen wood-pile.
From the wheel of the limousine stepped down a man smartly garbed in the uniform of a chauffeur. He swiftly threw open the silver-trimmed rear door, saluted, and offered his arm as the first of the occupants of the car descended. This person was a lady, somewhat stout, with a worried look on her face. Brick saw the flash of many diamonds glitter on her hands as she turned and spoke to those still remaining within the shadowy interior.
“Dirk, dearest, here we are! Gracious, what a rough and dusty road it has been! This camp must be in a perfect wilderness! John, you must come with me right away to see the camp director. I simply must explain to him about Dirk’s diet, and I do hope he will see to it that Dirk wears his rubbers and heavy underwear when it rains!”
Her husband, an older man with hair gray about the temples, nodded reassuringly as he joined her. “There, there,” he said soothingly, “it will be all right, I’m sure. The director knows his job; he’s quite accustomed to looking after all the boys.”
“But you know Dirk has always been so delicate! I declare, I wish we had sent him to Wild Rose Camp again this year—the nurse there was so sympathetic. But you would insist that he be brought to this outlandish place, even when you knew that none of the boys of our social set would think of coming to such an ordinary sort of camp!”
“I know, Marcia,” the man replied. “But Dirk is growing up now. I want him to mix with a regular gang of fellows his own age, and do all the things they do. Maybe at first it will seem a bit like roughing it, but he’ll soon get used to it and be into everything with the best of them. Isn’t that right, old man?”
“Yes, Papa,” a bored young voice answered from the depths of the back seat.
“That’s splendid, dear,” the mother said. “I know you will be a brave lad. Now, your father and I are going to speak to the director about your diet. Benson will help you with your luggage, and you can find out which house you are going to sleep in.”