“Alice is going to wear white,” said Dot, with a superior air. “White is best for picnics.”
“Um!” murmured Tess, who was not so particular.
Hal followed Luke and Neale out to the garage while the girls finished their preparations for the lunch they were taking to the Glen.
“I’m anxious to see how you start that old boat,” remarked Hal, rubbing, tenderly, his bruised knuckles.
“It’s easy. All you do is—this.” Neale turned the ignition key, stepped on the starter switch, and the steady throb and hum of the motor at once followed.
“You must have it charmed,” commented the Boston lad.
“You have to humor ’em,” chuckled Neale.
After all, it was not necessary for Neale to make a second trip to take Tess and Dot to the Glen. A neighbor happened to be going out in that direction and volunteered to take the younger girls.
“Coming home we can pile in anyhow,” remarked Agnes, “for there won’t be so many lunch boxes and baskets.”
“You verged dangerously near the truth then,” solemnly remarked Luke. “I shall empty at least half a dozen lunch boxes myself.”