Frank did not know. It was enough to see Fred Cunningham standing there on the bluff alongside of Minnie, appearing to take most of her time.
“What’s doing?” called Ralph, as he jumped ashore. “Let’s stir up something to keep from going to sleep. Let’s eat or have some games.”
“Eat! That’s the big idea! Let the games go! Let’s eat!” roared the attenuated Lanky Wallace as he climbed the stairs cut in the side of the bluff and came to the grassy grounds.
But the girls vetoed any spoiling of their plans. Moreover, the truck containing the best part of the luncheon had not yet arrived, they declared.
But the noon-hour came, as noon hours do when young folks are on picnics, and the girls spread the cloths on the ground, laying out the paper dishes which had been supplied in large quantities, while the boys helped break into baskets and bundles to get at the food. The two large ice-cream freezers got the attention of Paul, Ralph, and Buster Billings.
During the lunch, when all had been seated and it had been agreed that no one person should wait on any of them, but all should scramble as best they could for things which were not being passed quickly enough, the conversation suddenly veered to the races which had been proposed some days before, and about which Cunningham had made some very boastful remarks.
It was Irene Rich, the girl who probably was most anxious to be in the company of Fred Cunningham but who had not thus far succeeded, who started the talk.
“How about that race?” she cried, just as a lull fell for a moment in the conversation, as pieces of fried chicken were demanding attention. “I’ll bet on the Speedaway!”
“Atta girl!” came from Cunningham. “You’re a judge of boats!”
“Also of those who run them!” she bantered.