When Lily finally learned that Marjorie and Frieda had not arrived, her eyes filled with tears; she stood still, as if she wanted to get into the canoe again and go back. But Miss Phillips told the girls to get into the machines.
“But who will take care of our canoes?” asked Ethel, who had no desire to lose them a second time.
“One of the men will be right along, Miss,” explained Henry. “You needn’t worry.”
The machines drove for a short distance along a dirt lane which seemed to go right through the heart of the woods. When they finally emerged, the girls beheld a smooth white road lined with beautiful bungalows and houses, all in the most perfect condition. Green lawns, dotted here and there with flowers, and enclosed by hedges, surrounded the lovely dwellings.
“And is our house as lovely as these?” asked Ruth, impressed by the splendor of it all.
“Just a minute and you can see for yourself,” replied the captain.
At these words the car slowed up and turned abruptly through an open gate, and up a wide, curving driveway, which led to a charming house of the English type. It was low and rambling, but very large; indeed, at first glance it seemed to the girls to be almost the size of their dormitory at Miss Allen’s.
On the wide veranda of the house the girls could plainly see a group of people—apparently all men. No, there was one woman in the center of the group. It was Mrs. Andrews!
“But who are they?” questioned Ruth, turning to the captain.
“Some of the Boy Scouts,” replied the latter; “and Mr. Remington—and our benefactor and his wife: Mr. and Mrs. Andrews!”