“Well——”
“Pump fresh water for yourself, of course,” said Neale. “And put on your shoes or you’ll bruise your feet on these pebbles.”
“My, yes! I feel as if I were doing penance,” confessed Agnes, hastening to pull on her shoes.
They had a cozy time drinking the hot coffee and munching crackers before the others were even astir.
“I’ll bring back a lot of grub,” promised Neale.
“And a tube of cold-cream; Ruth and I are all out. And a bottle of witch hazel, and some animal crackers, because the kids like ’em. And some hand lotion for Mrs. Heard—I know her bottle is almost empty. And do get good tea. And don’t forget the stuffed olives——”
“Hold on,” interposed Neale, beginning to count on his fingers. “Let’s see if I can remember all those. First, a tub of cold cream——”
“Tube! tube!” cried Agnes.
“Oh! Ah! There is a difference, isn’t there?” he responded, grinning, and named the other articles over with some exactness. “All right. If my memory—and my money—doesn’t give out I’ll bring them all, even if I have to hire a four-horse wagon to cart the stuff.”
He started away at once, and was out of sight before the rest of the party appeared from the barn, yawning but deliciously rested. Sweet-smelling hay for a bed cannot be improved upon.