“What’s the matter?” demanded Dot. “That wasn’t a sigh of hunger!”
“No, it wasn’t. The mention of Ralph made me feel just a little bit homesick. Not for him especially—but for the whole crowd, and for Aunt Emily and Daddy. We’ve only been gone about ten days, but it seems ages and ages!”
“Because so much has happened.”
“Yes, and because we have been in such strange places. And the days have been long too.”
“What do you suppose everybody is doing by now?” inquired Dot.
“Most of them are at college, I suppose. Sue Emery and Sara Wheeler are rooming together. And Jim and Ralph both must have gone back. I don’t know about Harriman Smith. The last letter I had from him, he said he wasn’t sure whether he’d have enough money.”
“He’s a nice boy,” was Dot’s comment.
“One of the best,” replied Linda, with unusual enthusiasm for her. “But Dot,” she continued, as they began to make their fire for breakfast, “don’t you regret not going to college?”
“No, not a bit. I get lots more thrills batting about the country on adventures with you. If I were at college, and learned that you were suddenly off to California—or to the North Pole, I’d be absolutely sick with jealousy. I’d probably drop everything and go. And then, of course, college would drop me.”
“You’re an old peach, Dot!” exclaimed Linda, giving her chum a hug. “But some day I ’spose I’ll have to lose you, as I did Lou. Jim’ll decide that he just won’t wait any longer, and you’ll be going up the aisle to the tune of Lohengrin!”