She had brought enough food for nine, so her basket was heavy; yet no one offered to relieve her. Indeed, the girls grumbled about the weight of their own packages and hand-bags, the latter of which they had deemed indispensable.
“Where do we go from here, girls?” asked Queenie, as the small party alighted from the trolley car.
“Through this big arch, up the drive till we come to a path,” replied Marjorie shifting her load.
“Look at all them cars!” exclaimed Stella enviously. “What do you say we git a lift?”
“Wait till some fellows come along,” advised Annie.
“Nothin’ doin’!” squelched Queenie, noting the look of disapproval in Marjorie’s countenance. “We’re hikin’, kids—don’t you fergit it!”
“My feet ain’t likely to, anyway,” sighed Annie, glancing down at her high-heeled slippers.
Marjorie shot a grateful look at the patrol leader, and Queenie, appreciating it, started up a song, to make the way seem shorter.
But in spite of both their efforts, interest flagged, the girls grumbled, jealously watching the motorists that passed, and wishing aloud that they had been as sensible as Mame, and were comfortably watching the pictures. In vain Marjorie tried to interest them in conversation—about themselves, their work, their families, and their friends, but the girls only giggled and answered her questions in a perfunctory manner. By the time they arrived at the bridle path, where the hiking was really to begin, they one and all flung themselves upon a bench and announced that they were exhausted.
“Let’s eat!” suggested Queenie.