CHAPTER XI
DOROTHY GETS INTO MISCHIEF
The experiment which had marked such an advance in the education of Mrs. Snooks had proved equally beneficial to Ruth’s health. There is no panacea like laughter. Since Ruth had been spared the ordeal of requesting the loan of any of Mrs. Snooks’ belongings, her enjoyment of the situation had been unqualified and she had laughed most of the day, and even waked once or twice during the night to find herself still chuckling. By morning her manner had lost every trace of lassitude and her assurance that she felt as well as ever was accepted by the household without question.
The final obstacle in the way of the boys’ long deferred tramp was now removed. Still another last day was celebrated with fitting ceremonies, and the Snooks’ roof sheltered the wanderers for positively the last time. Graham and Jack had made their farewells the previous evening, as they were to start early, and Ruth’s suggestion of rising to see them off was immediately vetoed by her brother.
“You won’t do any such thing. Why should you miss two or three hours of sleep for the sake of saying good-by to-morrow morning, when you can just as well say it to-night?” Yet for all his masculine assumption of superiority to sentiment Graham was conscious of a little pang of disappointment as he and Jack passed Dolittle Cottage, in the dewy freshness of the summer morning. He had more than half expected to see a hand or two flutter at a window, in token that their departure was not unnoticed.
“‘How can I bear to leave thee,’” hummed Jack under his breath, and his smile was a little mischievous. Graham regarded him disdainfully, and Jack, breaking off his song, hastened to say: “Well, they’re as nice a crowd of girls as we’d find anywhere, if we tramped from here to the Pacific coast.”
“You’re right about that,” Graham returned, mollified, and then the boys, turning the bend of the road, halted as abruptly as if a highwayman had checked their advance. For hidden from sight by a tangled thicket of underbrush and vines, five girls in white shirt-waists and short skirts were waiting their arrival. The girls shrieked delightedly at the amazement depicted on the countenances of the two knights of the road.
“Now, don’t try to pretend that you were expecting this all the time. You know you never thought of it,” Ruth cried, slipping her hand through her brother’s arm, and giving it a fond squeeze.
“Of course I never thought of it. Only a girl could originate such a brilliant idea.” The assumed sarcasm of Graham’s rejoinder could not conceal his pleasure, and Ruth flashed a satisfied glance at Peggy, who met it with a twinkle of understanding.
“We’re only going to walk about a mile,” explained Peggy, as the procession moved forward. “We know you want to make a record, your first day out. And, besides, we haven’t had a real breakfast yet, only crackers and milk.”
It was a long mile that they traversed before parting company, as the girls found when they came to retrace their steps. Familiar as they thought themselves with the vicinity, the sunrise world was full of delightful surprises. There was magic in the air, and the winding road lured them ahead, as if it had been an enchanted path leading to fairyland.