"Oh, how jolly you all look!" cried Hildegarde, peeping through the hedge. "Where are you going?"
The Merryweathers were going to ride; so much was evident. Five bicycles stood at the door, glittering in the sunlight; five riders were in the act of mounting, plainly bound on a pleasure-trip.
"Only for the mail, and a little spin after it," cried Mr. Merryweather. "Wish you could come too, Miss Grahame. You will certainly have to get a wheel and join us. Nothing like it, I assure you."
Bell and Gertrude, in trim short skirts and gaiters, sat already perched, ready for the start; and Phil and Gerald were putting a last touch to their shining metal-work.
Mrs. Merryweather came out on the steps, with Kitty by her side.
"Here are my letters, dear people," she said. "And don't forget the boots, please; they are very important."
"May one inquire what boots?" asked Mr. Merryweather.
"I really have no idea!" replied his wife. "Somebody said at breakfast that you must be sure to remember the boots, and dwelt on their importance; therefore I mention them."
"Ou avez-vous procure ce chapeau?" inquired Gerald, politely.
"My dear Gerald, you know that I will not endure slang that is less than fifty years old."