“There’s a lovely place this side of South Deerfield,” observed Lilith. “We’re nearly there, I think. Tired, Dolly dear?”
“Some,” she answered softly, with a little wan smile.
“We’re going to have dinner,” cried Polly gayly, speeding her car. “Look ahead! See that little wood—that’s where we’re going to stop.” And almost as she spoke the place was reached.
“Oh, how beautiful!” breathed Dolly.
The four cars drew up on the grass beside the road, lunch boxes were opened, and very shortly everybody was eating and drinking, the grown-ups taking only hurried nibbles until most of the children had a glass of milk in one hand and a chicken sandwich in the other. All felt the refreshment of the cool, green dining-room. The young men poured the ice-cold coffee and lemonade, the girls handed out sandwiches and cookies, oranges and small cakes, until weariness and heat were forgotten, and everybody was in gay morning mood.
There was not much to pack away into basket and box when the luncheon was over, only a few cookies and bottles of milk, in case of need later in the day.
Just as they were ready to start on again, Polly called Dr. Abbe.
He came as if on wings. “At your service,” he bowed.
“Would you mind letting Dolly go to sleep in your arms?” she asked. “I think she will be easier there.”
“I shall be glad to take her,” was his assurance.