"And shall we live in a tent?" asked Freddie, "and cook over a camp fire? and go fishing? and—and—and——"
"Yes, all of that and more, too," said his father, catching up the little fat fireman and bouncing him toward the ceiling.
Then followed a happy hour talking over the plans for going camping on Blueberry Island, until Mother Bobbsey said it was time for Flossie and Freddie, at least, to go to bed.
Off they went to Slumberland, to dream of living in a big white tent with a flag on top of it.
"Just like a circus!" as Freddie said the next morning at breakfast.
"Or a gypsy camp," added Flossie. "Are there any gypsies on Blueberry Island, Daddy?"
"No, not a one."
"'Cause if there was," went on the little girl, "I wouldn't take my doll with me. I wouldn't want her tooked away like Helen's was."
"We won't let any gypsies come," said Mr. Bobbsey.
One warm summer day came after another until it was nearly time to close the school, and all the boys and girls in Lakeport were thinking of vacation. The Bobbseys were getting ready to go to the Blueberry Island camp. Mr. Bobbsey had bought the tents and other things and they were to go to the island in a boat.