She was pretty, that first one with the sparkling brown eyes. Then here came an older girl, tall, fair and rather pale. “Don’t worry about me, Fran,” she was saying to a girl as tall behind her, “I’m only tired with too much going on. I’m perfectly able to carry these blankets.”
Greta counted. There were eight girls, and three boys, all with blankets across their shoulders and their hands full of packages or baskets or pails or something in the housekeeping line. It was interesting. She would stay and watch them a little while. Somewhere she had learned that it was not nice to be curious. That might be one of those vivid dreams or memories that came to her now, by night or day. Nevertheless, she could do no harm, and oh, how full of fun those girls were. They were like the girls in the book. They were like,—girls that she had either dreamed of or known.
All of them made several trips back and forth. They had wagons or a truck in the woods, she supposed. She had noticed the lane, but had never been to its other end. The younger two boys marched gaily with a broom and a new mop over their shoulders, a dish pan inverted over each head, and more blankets under each arm. The one called Billy tried a dance step, but a blanket became unrolled and all but tripped him.
“Don’t spoil the new mop, Billy!”
“That’s all the sympathy I get, is it Nan?”
“I was just trying to be clever, Billy. I’ll trust you with my camp trousseau in my suitcase the next trip.”
More boxes and bundles were carried inside. Then came the supplies. Greta had never seen so much to eat together as this except in stores, and, to be sure, growing in fields and orchards. But these baskets bore selected foods for home use, or camp use. There were two large sacks of flour and large boxes containing cans of all sorts. But Greta tired of looking at what they were bringing. It was far more interesting to see the girls themselves and to listen to the gay chatter.
“Please put those cans of coal-oil out on the kitchenette stoop, Billy. Mother was so afraid that we’d set them near the flour or some of the other food. Everything else goes in the pantry, everything else to eat, I mean. We girls will arrange them. Why, yes, if you have to take the baskets and boxes back, put the stuff anywhere. Leave us the box with the potatoes, though. Oh, yes, just dump those things into the dishpan or the washbasin or anything. And thanks so much. You three get our first invitation to a meal from our new dishes. I don’t know whether this is camping or going to housekeeping, but we’ll have a mixture of both, it is likely. Are you all set at your camp?”
“Yes. We can use a few more things, but we can bring back what we want after we take the truck back to town and come back in our Ford. Now shan’t we bring up your machine? It’s going to be hard to get it through till we get the lane widened a little more. You can make it, of course, but we’ll be over as soon as possible to cut away some of the stuff. The carpenters zigzagged through and nearly spoiled some of the young trees.”
“All right, boys. Bring our limousine into its shed, if you please. Did you say that we could get our supplies nearer the camp than at home? Oh, yes. I remember that village. We’ve driven through it.”