Lucile shot a reproachful glance at her friend, who laughed shamelessly, “I don’t care, Lucy; you’d enjoy it just as much as I do if you were in my place. You used to make such fun of my McCutcheon books and everything——”
“Yes; but don’t forget I took it all back that day in camp when we saw—well, you know what——”
“Yes, I know,” said Jessie, star-eyed at the memory. “Was there ever such a summer anyway?”
“You haven’t told us yet what Jack said in his letter,” Evelyn interrupted, irrelevantly. “Be good to us, Lucy, and throw us some more small scraps of information to satisfy our curiosity.”
“Well, I can’t tell you everything he said,” Lucile began.
“We hardly expect that,” murmured Jessie, and Lucile threw her a suspicious glance.
“Well,” she continued, after an ominous silence, during which Jessie intently studied the sky-line, “I can tell you the part that would interest you most. He says if he can persuade his uncle that he is desperately in need of a change, he may see us in Paris.”
“What?” cried Jessie, regarding Lucile with laughing eyes. “You mean that Jack says he may actually come to Europe? That means he will, because he can wind that 145 wealthy old uncle of his around his little finger. Good for dear old Jack!”
And so they talked on and on, reviewing past and prophesying future delights, until the position of the sun reminded them that it was time to seek the rest of the party.
“So here you are,” said Mrs. Payton, as they approached her from around a corner of the cabin. “We were beginning to think you had jumped overboard. Your father has just gone around the other way to look for you.”