The girls gave over their morning to sight-seeing, and, though they were making use of the lovely shady camp grounds provided by the city, they determined to eat their noon meal at a hotel, in order that they might feel rested for the afternoon’s swim.
They stopped at the post-office to inquire for mail, and were not disappointed, for the clerk handed them a sizeable bundle. Florence and Daisy expressed particular eagerness.
“Well, when do you see them again?” asked
Alice, watching Daisy’s countenance as she perused a fat letter.
“See whom?” demanded the girl, blushing.
“You know—the occupants of the red car.”
“When we get to California—probably the second of August. Isn’t that what your letter says, Flos?”
“Yes, Mr. Cryton is going to be waiting on the doorstep when we take the milk bottles in in the morning,” laughed Florence, reading an extract from her letter. “But say, won’t it be great to have them help us with our new cars when wet get them! For I don’t put much stock in those two nephews!”
“Neither do I” agreed Alice; “they sound as if they were sort of wishy-washy—the kind that wait around for somebody else’s money! But do you really think we’re going to get there in time?”
“I hope so. But both Marj and Ethel seem worried, and that’s a bad sign.”