“You lovely thing!” cried Bob, scrambling down from the chiffonier to give the appreciative junior first choice of the prize candy.
And then the gargoyles had a dance and a parade, and delicious “eats,” on which Georgia had rashly spent all that was left of her month’s allowance. And after that, when the five 19—’s were having the very best time of all, just sitting around talking and realizing what a dear, dear place Harding was, it was time to pull Bob out of her beloved costume and rush for trains.
Later in the evening the five classmates sat in the station at the junction, Babe and Betty waiting to go west, Bob, Babbie and Roberta bound for New York.
Babbie looked critically at Babe and Betty. “I shall tell mother that it worked,” she said. “You went to bed at three, and got up at seven this morning to go canoeing. You’ve eaten four meals to-day and as many ices. You’ve been horseback and trolley-riding. You’ve made dozens of calls. It’s now ten p. m., and you’re fresh as the daisies in Oban. How’s that for the Harding cure?”
“Don’t you feel exactly as if it was some June?” demanded Bob. “Not last June, but a regular June, you know, and we were all just going home for the summer.”
“Exactly,” agreed everybody, and then a sleepy silence settled upon the group.
“What were those things we had in the ‘Rise of the Drama’ course?” asked Betty Wales suddenly. “Not intervals, but something like that.”
“You mean Interludes, don’t you?” asked Roberta. “They came right after the Moralities.”
Betty nodded. “That’s what this summer has been—an Interlude.”
“With Babe for the fascinating heroine,” put in Babbie.