“On the roofs, you mean,” laughed John, “and only chimney-sweeps can penetrate their inner mysteries. What’s your specialty, Miss Wales?”
“I haven’t any yet,” explained Betty. “I’m hoping mine will turn up before long, though.”
“Oh, we’ll find you something in London,” Madeline promised her easily. “There is something for everybody in London.”
CHAPTER VIII
BETTY DISCOVERS HER SPECIALTY
“Staying in lodgings in a villa by the sea is awfully English, but so are a lot of other things,” said Madeline briskly. “We’ve seen about all there is to see in this neighborhood, and I think we ought to be pushing on.”
It was nearly a week after the ghost party. The girls had spent the two really pleasant days in visiting Glencoe and Iona, both of which were so lovely that Betty had insisted upon calling on the crusty old stationer to thank him for suggesting them. Now they were gathered in the sitting-room, Baedekers in hand, holding a conclave on where to go next.
“Oh, dear!” sighed Babe. “It’s been so jolly here! I wish we could settle down for all summer. But of course I know it would be silly to come way across the ocean and then just stick in one spot.”
“John’s not going to stay all summer, Babe,” said Babbie pointedly, for during the week the friendship between the man-hater and the woman-hater had progressed marvelously.
“Isn’t he?” Babe’s tone was as unconcerned as if she had not solemnly promised to furnish John with a dated itinerary of their trip, and to write him the very minute they changed their plans.
“Dwight thinks we ought to stay on here till he’s finished coaching me,” John had told her mournfully; “because there are so few distractions to take a fellow’s mind from his work. But it will be deadly dull after you’ve gone.”