“The children can sleep in the car, when it rains too hard,” decided Mrs. Martin.
“And can we cook, and eat and everything like that out of doors?” Janet wanted to know.
“Of course we have to cook!” declared Ted. “I’m going to make the campfires,” he declared.
“We’ll see about that,” Mr. Martin said. “Very likely we’ll take along an alcohol stove. That’s more certain for cooking than wet wood. But we can have a campfire once in a while.”
Ted and Janet told their many boy and girl chums about the coming touring trip, and all the lads and lassies wished they were as lucky as were the Curlytops.
It was one evening, about four days after Ted had gone down into the well which was now filled up, that, as the Curlytops and the others of the family were talking about the coming trip, a ring sounded at the front door.
“I wonder who that can be?” said Mrs. Martin.
“Well, it’s pretty hard to guess,” her husband answered, with a laugh. “But we’ll soon see, for Nora is opening the door.”
In came Mr. James Cardwell, an elderly neighbor who lived two or three houses down the street. Under his arm Mr. Cardwell carried two large books, which, a second look told Janet and Ted, were old-fashioned photograph albums.
“Good evening, Mr. Cardwell,” said Mr. Martin. “Have a chair.”