“I’ve been inviting you at the top of my voice,” said Miss Rutherford, “for nearly a quarter of an hour. I’m so glad you’ve come in the end.”
“We couldn’t hear what you were saying,” said Priscilla. “All we knew was that you were shouting at us. If we’d known it was an invitation——”
“You couldn’t have come any quicker if you’d heard every word,” said Miss Rutherford.
“I’m frightfully sorry,” said Frank again. “I can’t tell you——”
“If I’d known it was luncheon,” said Priscilla, “I’d have steered myself and run no risks. We haven’t a thing to eat in our boat and I’m getting weak with hunger.”
Miss Rutherford stepped overboard again.
“Come on,” she said, “we’re going to have the grandest picnic ever was, I went down to the village yesterday evening after I got home and bought another tin of Californian peaches.”
“How did you know you’d meet us?” said Priscilla.
“I hoped for the best. I felt sure I’d meet you tomorrow if I didn’t today. I should have dragged the peaches about with me until I did. Nothing would have induced me to open the tin by myself. I’ve also got two kinds of dessicated soup and——
“Penny-packers?” said Priscilla. “I know the look of them, but I never bought one on account of the difficulty of cooking. I don’t believe they’d be a bit good dry.”