“Yes. That’s the place. Across the river from Shady Nook.”
“Tell me some of the people’s names,” urged Jane.
“Well, next door to us—only it really isn’t next door, because there’s quite a little woods between—is the loveliest cottage at Shady Nook. It was built by a man named Hunter, who was very rich. He bought all the land around there on our side of the river and sold it to people he knew and liked. But he died last year, so only his wife and son came back this summer.”
“A son?” repeated Jane, rolling her eyes. “Not a babe in arms, I hope!”
“A sophomore at Yale,” replied Mary Louise. “Rather homely, but awfully nice—and piles of fun.”
“What’s the youth’s name?”
“There you go! Putting him down in your notebook already! His name’s Clifford. We all call him Cliff.”
“Naturally. But if he’s your property, Mary Lou, just say the word, and I’ll keep off.”
Mary Louise laughed.
“Nobody’s my special property,” she said. “Not even Max Miller,” she added, mentioning her particular boy-friend in their home town of Riverside. “Though he sometimes acts as if he believed I were his! I like Cliff Hunter a lot—everybody does. But we don’t pair off much at Shady Nook, except sometimes to go canoeing. Most of the time we’re just one big family.”