Dave roared with laughter. "Right you are, Lydia! I guess I'll have to hitch up and drive us all over."
They drove to the Willows and Margery went through her paces, while her father watched and applauded from the shore. When they had finished and had run up and down to warm up and dry off and were driving home, Dave said,
"You'd better come in to supper with us, Lydia."
"No, thank you," answered the child. "Mr. Levine's coming to supper at our house and I have to cook it."
"Hum! What does John Levine do at your house, so much?"
"Oh, he's going into politics," answered Lydia, innocently, "and Dad advises him."
"Well, tell them you've done a fine job as a swimming teacher," Dave spoke carelessly. "I don't see why Levine wants to get into politics. He's doing well in real estate."
"Oh!" exclaimed Lydia, with a child's importance at having real news to impart, "he's going into politics so's to get some Indian land."
"Like hell he is!" exclaimed Marshall.
"Oh, Daddy!" Margery's voice was exactly like her mother's.