Uncle Roddy's car was waiting for them, and they got in it and were whirled away to the shops.
It was not until luncheon that they had a chance to breathe.
"There, that's settled." Mrs. Farwell viewed them with satisfaction. She was proud of them both. Lois' delicate handsomeness and Polly's clear cut beauty. She had chosen dark blue for the one and hunter's green for the other.
"Won't you girls ever take an interest in your clothes?" she asked, wonderingly. She couldn't believe they were quite as indifferent to the charming pictures they made in the very becoming hats and sporty topcoats as they pretended.
"Poor, darling mother, we are interested," Lois protested, "but we're—"
"Fussed." Polly finished for her, looking decidedly self-conscious, as she tilted her hat a tiny bit more over one ear.
Uncle Roddy and Dr. Farwell met them for luncheon, and then they heard the plan.
"It's Bob's idea," Uncle Roddy explained, "and here's the schedule. You," he was looking at Polly and Lois, "and Mrs. Farwell leave for Boston this afternoon. Bob will meet you and take you to dinner, and to-morrow you'll go to the game. Harvard plays Princeton."
"That's hard on you, Lois," Dr. Farwell laughed; he never stopped teasing for one minute.
"What do you think about it, Tiddledewinks?" Uncle Roddy asked.