“Are the boys coming over this evening?” asked Margery, after they had finished supper and she and Tommy were washing the dishes.
“They did not say,” called Hazel. “It is safe to believe they will. I wonder if we can’t get rid of those boys? They make me nervous. It seems to me that they are perpetually on the scene whether one wants to see them or not.”
“Don’t be hard on the poor Tramp Club, Hazel,” laughed Harriet. “Remember you might still be stuck fast in the swamp had they not come to the rescue.”
“That’s so,” responded Hazel, with a sigh. “I never thought of that. They’re really not so bad after all.”
“I have met worse,” averred Harriet solemnly. Whereupon there was a general laugh.
The tramps had gathered the fuel for the Meadow-Brook Girls, stacking it up in piles of various lengths. The lads really were trying to make themselves useful to the young women. As yet there had been no outward evidence of Captain Baker’s assertion that some of them were “full of mischief.” The girls had piled the campfire high with wood and gathered about it when strains of music were heard.
“Oh, it ith a band, it ith a band,” cried Tommy.
“Coming to serenade us, probably,” announced Margery.
“No. I think it is some one playing on harmonicas,” answered Miss Elting after a moment of listening.
“It’s those boys,” groaned Hazel. “What mischief are they up to now?”