"This is Floss, my mouse," he said.
Floss, whose hair ran the gamut of colors from jet at the roots to orange-red at the ends—with blond, brown and platinum intervening—gazed at Marc from beneath mascara-encrusted eyelashes.
"Hi, tallstuff," she said in a smoky tone, "ain't I seen you somewheres before?"
"Knock it off, Floss," Hotstuff said. "Today's vacation. Besides, the gent can't see you through those glasses, so don't waste your wattage." He grinned at Marc. "She likes you, man."
"I always like to improve public relations," Floss said delicately.
"I'm much obliged," Marc said, edging away. "Well, I suppose we ought to be on our way."
"Okay, everybody!" Hotstuff yelled. "Climb aboard! We're off to mingle with nature!" He took Marc's arm and guided him to the steps. "Everybody brought a couple of bottles," he said. "All you have to do is supply the grub. Boy! is this going to be some party!"
"Yes," Marc said fatefully, "it probably is."
It was not until the bus left the city and was churning its way into the fresh-budding atmosphere of the country that the little assemblage began to get into the true spirit of the trip.