"That's all very well!" said Kitty bitterly. "Who wouldn't be gay in your shoes. You're going away to-morrow. You're going to mix with people; to see something besides trees; to have some fun! What have I got to look forward to?"
"Cheer up, sis," said Bill with jocular solicitude. "What can we do about it? The little iron chest has to be carried out. It's getting too heavy to be left lying around loose. And there's next year's grub to be brought in."
"Certainly, I know you're obliged to go," said Kitty.
"If you could go in my place you'd be welcome," said Dick. "But it's too hard a trip both out and in again. You and Dick couldn't do it alone."
"I know it," said Kitty stiffly. "You don't have to explain."
"And we can't take you with us, because the old man can't keep the plant going, and cook his own grub, too."
"I wouldn't think of leaving him alone," said Kitty indignantly.
Bill began to grin again. "Cheer up, the worst is yet to come!" he cried. "We'll be back in six weeks with a scow full of good things! What'll I bring her from town for a present? A silk dress?"
"A lot of good a silk dress would do me!" Kitty said scornfully. "Who do I ever see from one month to another?"
"Ah, there we have her trouble!" cried Bill. He began to sing and to caper absurdly: