"And you don't remember getting into any boat?" asked Mrs. Lombard.
"No, I don't," replied Laddie, whose always responsive eyes twinkled suddenly. "But if it were poor Charlie's fault, it wouldn't be polite to remember; if it were mine, I'd rather forget it; but I really don't remember one thing about those days in Canada, except that face like Dave's."
"No wonder," said Mrs. Lombard. "You were delirious when we took you off the train and so hazy when you were sitting up that you didn't know whether you were in Oregon or Pittsburg. You'd been terribly sick. The doctor said that your splendid constitution was all that saved you. And to think that you survived that storm——"
"Pooh!" scoffed Billy, "that boat probably lasted till I was tossed up on this shore. And anyhow, a bath does a fellow good. See how husky Mabel is—she's forever taking 'em. Say! That girl would fall into an ink bottle, if you left it uncorked—she just naturally tumbles into things."
CHAPTER XXVIII
Breaking Camp
"GIRLS," said Mr. Black, when he had finished his delayed breakfast, "I have a very sorrowful confession to make. I've got to lose you."
"Oh, no," protested Mrs. Crane, "not so soon."
"I don't like it myself, Sarah, but all those mothers, grandmothers, and Aunty Janes came and sat around my office and reminded me that their precious girls were all going away to school, told me that the school was almost picked out—they've narrowed down to four—and dragged from me a promise that I just hated to make. As far as I can discover, they've bought all the cloth in Lakeville, engaged all the dressmakers, and are in a fever to try things on. And I promised——"