"Then it must have been Phil!"
"No, it was Roger," protested the shipowner's son. "I saw him writing poetry when he should have been sending a letter home."
"You go on, you manufacturer of bombastic fairy tales!" cried the senator's son, and he commenced to chase Phil around the piazza. The other boy leaped the rail and Roger followed, and then both commenced to wrestle on the grass.
"Mercy me! What's going on?" cried Laura, coming from the sitting-room.
"Greatest exhibition on the globe!" called out Dave, in showman style. "The two marvelous lightweights of the United States, Master Hitem Morr and Lamem Lawrence. They will fight to a finish, without gloves, weather permitting. Walk up, tumble up, or crawl up! Admission ten cents, one dime; young ladies with grandfathers in arms, half-price!"
"Oh, Dave!" cried his sister, and burst out laughing. The noise brought Jessie and Belle to the scene, and seeing what was going on, all of the girls commenced to pelt the boys on the grass with tennis balls. The "attack" lasted for several minutes, and then the girls ran away, and the boys went after them, into the house and out again, and across the yard, and then through the kitchen, much to the astonishment of the Chinese cook. Here Phil scooped up a ladleful of soup.
"Halt, base enemy!" he cried, holding the soup aloft. "One step closer and thou shalt be——" And then he slipped and the soup slopped over his hand and his shoes. He ran for the yard again, dropped on a bench, in mock exhaustion; and there the others joined him; and the fun, for the time being, came to an end.
"We are going to the railroad station this afternoon with papa," said Belle. "Want to go along?"
"Will a duck drink ice-cream soda!" cried Roger. "Of course we will go along."
"Then you had better get ready now—for we are to start directly after lunch."