"Of course it is," Sally whispered back, her eyes dancing in the light from the lantern.
"I think that is the best plan, don't you, Max?" questioned Jarvis.
Max nodded reluctantly. No matter how hospitably the tiny cottage might be thrown open for their reception, it would certainly be overtaxing its capacity to attempt to make nine extra people comfortable there for the remainder of the night—it was barely one o'clock.
"We'll gladly stretch the walls to take you all in," said Donald Ferry, "but perhaps the big house plan is the better. Suppose you ladies go over and let mother satisfy her longing to be of use by making Miss Sally dry, while we fellows get the cots into the house, and bring over some wood from our pile for the fireplace. It will need open windows and a rousing fire in there to freshen the musty air."
"Jarvis, you must come, too—you and Bob. You're both very wet," urged
Mrs. Burnside.
"Yes, go over, Burnside, and ask mother for some dry clothes of mine," said Ferry. "Bob—"
"I've got some dry clothes packed away somewhere in the tent, if I can only find where they've gone to," answered Bob.
"I'll work myself dry," and Jarvis suited the action to the word by beginning to unfasten the guy ropes.
"Jarvis!" It was his mother's voice. At the note in it, he stood up again, laughing. "All right, mother," he agreed, and walked away with her toward the cottage.
"These people who have been so anxious to camp," said Max to Ferry, "I hope they're satisfied now."