"Did I hear you sigh?" Alec was looking at Blue Bonnet in astonishment. She had never looked happier or prettier in her life; sun and wind had painted a rose-blush on her cheeks; the blue eyes were positively luminous. Yet he had distinctly heard her sigh.
She nodded. "I had to. I'm just too full for utterance—no, no!—I'll take another doughnut! I didn't mean that literally. But I'm full of content,—I'd like to purr."
Alec laughed. "It's the best fun I've ever had. I believe I must be part Indian, and this is the only time I've ever been able to obey 'the call of the wild.' It makes me sorry for all the misguided folk that spend all their lives in houses."
"Look at Grandmother," Blue Bonnet whispered. "Who would ever have thought that a Colonial Dame would look so natural eating beans with a tin spoon? I wish Uncle Cliff could have come, he's a born camper."
"Why didn't Mr. Terry come to dinner?" Knight asked.
"Uncle Joe!" Blue Bonnet's spoon dropped with a clatter. She hadn't even thought of Uncle Joe! "Mrs. Judson," she stammered, "will you please excuse me? I'll be right back." Hardly waiting for Mrs. Judson's surprised "Certainly," she sprang lightly over the bench and vanished through the trees.
The We are Sevens, used to Blue Bonnet's methods, went on unconcernedly with their dessert; but the Judsons looked mildly amazed.
Blue Bonnet found Uncle Joe smoking contentedly before a cosy gypsy fire on which a coffee-pot was steaming. She burst upon him breathlessly.
"Uncle Joe—I forgot,—you're invited out to dinner!"
He smiled at her over his pipe. "I ain't got a dinner-coat, Honey."