“Bully! I wish you would!” Eric cried, clapping his hand on his friend’s shoulder. So when the car started again, the three smaller girls were seated on the wide backseat, while Madge Peterson sat with the driver.
Mr. Wainwright drove slowly, because, as he explained, the lake road was in rather poor condition. Adele, hearing this, smiled, for the car had been plunging along when the boys had stopped it.
“Miss Peterson,” Betty’s Uncle George said, with his pleasant smile, “I have met you before, haven’t I?”
“Have you? Where?” Madge glanced up inquiringly, and then she exclaimed, “Oh, yes, I know—at Dora Pendleton’s Musical Tea.”
“And you had some drawings exhibited that day,” Uncle George continued. “I remember that I thought they were excellent.”
Madge smiled, as she said, “I truly did not want to have them exhibited, but Dora Pendleton knew that I was eager to do some illustrating, and she said that several writers would be among the company, and that it might be a good plan to show them samples of my work.”
“A splendid plan!” Uncle George said warmly. “And I am sure that you received an order.”
“I did, indeed!” Madge exclaimed enthusiastically. “And such an interesting one it has proved. Miss Kimberly, the children’s poet, was there, you remember, and she has asked me to illustrate her book of fanciful child-verse. I am having the most beautiful time making the drawings, and, besides that, it pays well and I need the money.”
Adele was surprised to hear this, as she had supposed that Madge Peterson had no need to earn money. When the inn was reached and farewells had been exchanged, Madge called, “I’ll be at the Home on Monday, Eva,” and then the car sped on. Little did the three girls dream of the wonderful something that was going to happen because of that lake-shore ride.