"Aw, only part of it. Dad made me work till the middle of August, then
Charlie and I camped up on the reservation."
"Shame he had to work, isn't it?" grinned Charlie. "Poor little Kent!"
The three laughed, for Kent now towered above Lydia a half head and was as brawny as Charlie.
"There comes Margery," said Lydia. "She hardly speaks to me now, she's been to New York."
"She is a peach," exclaimed Charlie, eying Margery in her natty little blue suit appraisingly.
"Some swell dame, huh?" commented Kent, his hands in his trousers' pockets, cap on the back of his head. "Hello, Marg! Whither and why?"
"Oh, how de do, Kent!" Margery approached languidly, including Lydia and Charlie in her nod.
"Got any paper dolls in your pocket, Miss Marshall?" inquired Charlie.
Margery tossed her head. "Oh, I gave up that sort of thing long ago!"
"Land sakes!" The young Indian chuckled.