Bob. Of course, I am; just my luck! I tell you it’s no joke to robe myself in these uncomfortable clothes. I’ve ripped two shirts and three pairs of—
Harry. Hold on, Bob.
Bob. What’s the use in my attempting to race? Anyhow, I shall be the last in. It’s just my luck!
Harry. Don’t growl, Bob. It’s just your luck to be the best fellow in the world. What could we do without you? All the small boys swear by you. If they’re in trouble, who so quick to help as Bob Winders? If there’s an old lady within ten miles wants an armful of firewood, who so quick to bring it as Bob Winders? If I was in trouble, and wanted the help of a friend, a real friend, there’s no one I would call on sooner than Bob Winders.
Bob. Bully for you, Harry. I’d go through fire and water for you; for you’ve helped me through many tight places: but it’s no use: I shall lose the race. It’s just my luck!
Harry. Do your best, Bob. Come, lads, let’s be off.
Dilly. Yes: the race, the race,—hurrah for the race of the Red, White, and Blue!
(Exit Dilly and Harry, Lucy and Bob; Mrs. Loring and Fred about to follow. Enter Dr. Harlem, R.)
Doctor. Mrs. Loring, one moment; that is, if you have no important business.
Mrs. L. Will you excuse me, Mr. Hastings, one moment? (Fred bows and exits, C.) I was merely going to see the race on the lake. The young people desired it; and, really, I felt myself almost a girl again.