“What about you, Auntie?” questioned Patsy, noting that her dignified relative was still engaged in letter-writing. “Don’t you want to join the explorers?”
“You girls can get along very well without me,” placidly returned Miss Carroll. “I am not through with my writing. Besides, I don’t feel inclined to go exploring this morning. I warn all of you to be careful where you set foot. This old place may be infested with snakes.”
“Oh, we’ll be careful. We’ll each carry a good stout stick,” assured Beatrice. “That’s the way tourists do in the tropics, you know. On some of the South Sea Islands, I’ve read that tourists always carry what they call ‘snake sticks’ when they go calling. At night the coolies go ahead of a calling party and beat the long grass aside.”
“Very fine, Bee. I hereby appoint you chief grass-beater of the realm,” teased Mabel.
“I decline the high office,” retorted Bee. “Every Wayfarer will have to do her own bit of trail beating. As I am very brave, I don’t mind walking ahead, though.”
“I will walk with you, Bee,” graciously offered Patsy. “Woe be to the wriggly, jiggly sarpint that crosses our path.”
In this light strain the four girls left Miss Martha to her writing and sallied forth from the coolness of the old house into the bright sunlight.
“Where shall we go first?” queried Patsy, as they paused on the drive in front of the house. “Shall we get acquainted with our numerous acres of front yard, or shall we make a bee-line for the orange groves?”
“Let’s do the groves first,” suggested Eleanor. “I’m awfully anxious to get close to real orange trees with real oranges growing on them.”