Her guess regarding their speedy arrival at the bus stand was an accurate one. It was precisely ten minutes past eleven when Robin brought the car to a stop before the drug store. The rain was still driving down in misty sheets as the trio emerged from the automobile and made a frantic dash across the sidewalk to the shelter of the drug store. Immediately afterward Anna Towne and half a dozen of her intimate friends arrived, radiant-faced in spite of the storm.
“This is a surprise,” Anna greeted. She shook hands with the three hardy Travelers as though it had been a long time instead of only yesterday since she had seen them. “The rest of the crowd will soon be here. I managed to telephone all of them this morning to be at the stand at eleven-fifteen instead of eleven-thirty. Then we’ll surely be ready to start at exactly eleven-thirty. The bus drivers are so disobliging. They are hired specially to bring us to and from the campus yet they never want to wait a second beyond a certain time for us to assemble. They’re not supposed to carry any passengers but us during those trips. But they do. I say this, not by way of complaining, Robin, I object to their unfairness. A great difference between those Italians and Signor Baretti, isn’t there? I think he is wonderfully kind to remember the off-campus girls in such a generous way.” Anna’s pale, interesting face brightened with appreciation.
“Signor Baretti has true college spirit,” Robin returned with conviction. “I can’t imagine those two grumpy bus drivers as imbued with any such noble quality; or that Italian, Sabani, the man they work for. If those two kickers show any signs of grouchiness this morning I shall read them a Thanksgiving lecture. It won’t be the kind to feel thankful for, either. By the way, where are they? I ordered them to be here at eleven and stay here until told to start for the inn.”
Involuntarily the group of girls moved nearer one of the huge plate-glass show windows to peer, bright-eyed, into the rain-swept street. As far as they could see, up and down the street, there were no signs of the large dark red busses with their flashy yellow trimmings.
“It’s eighteen minutes past eleven,” Phil’s tones conveyed her consternation. “Where can those aggravating busses be?”
“Not where they should be,” scolded Robin. “Here comes a big crowd of the girls. The busses should be here so that they could step directly into them. They’ll have to come into the drug store instead. Maybe the druggist will object to sheltering us. There’ll be enough dripping umbrellas to flood the store. Oh, dear what a mess! Why did it have to go and rain on Thanksgiving Day? And where, oh, where, are those miserable drivers and their busses?”
CHAPTER XIII.
AN EMERGENCY CALL
Mindful of past liberal patronage of the Hamilton College girl and with a shrewed eye to the future the druggist himself ushered the arriving party of merry girls into the store and obligingly supplied a couple of large packing boxes in which to stand the dripping umbrellas. Despite Robin’s despairing opinion that the store would not hold the umbrella-laden brigade they managed to crowd into it.
By eleven-thirty the last girl had arrived at the rendezvous. They were a cheery, light-hearted, buoyant company regardless of their cramped quarters. Their appreciation of Signor Baretti’s invitation to be his guests at a Thanksgiving dinner showed itself in their bright faces, spontaneous laughter and gay holiday air.