Neale had finally extracted the cork. He first smelled and then tasted the suggestive looking liquor. Mrs. Heard gasped in horror. Agnes squealed. Ruth demanded:
“What is it?”
“It’s what I thought!” said Neale. “Licorice water. Wonder the flask didn’t break and drench everything with the stuff. And he has brought a few clothes.”
“I see very plainly,” Mrs. Heard said, when the laughter had subsided, “that the first town we come to of any size, we shall have to buy Sammy some needfuls. Goodness! how ashamed his mother will be when she learns of this.”
Sammy was too sleepy to be questioned at that time about the wonderful contents of the suitcase; but in the morning he confessed that after his mother had packed the bag for him, he had been obliged to take out “a lot of useless duds” to make room for the necessary miscellany listed above which, to his boyish mind, was far more important.
However, it afforded the party a hearty laugh and Mrs. Heard (who declared her nephew—the now dignified county surveyor—had been just like Sammy) cheerfully purchased a proper outfit for the lad.
“I knew Sammy would be an awful nuisance,” Ruth said.
“But, goodness! isn’t he funny?” giggled Agnes.
The party made a good start from the Bristow House about nine o’clock. They were to run that day to Parmenter Lake, where they might spend some time, and to one of the hotels at that resort the trunks had been sent. They expected to have their lunch again in the open, and the hamper had been filled at the Bristow House.
Ever since the day the Corner House girls had first met Mrs. Heard and her brown pony, Jonas, there had been a matter puzzling Tess and Dot; and as time passed and the curiosity of their two active young minds was not satisfied, the children had grown more and more insistent in their demands on Neale O’Neil.