“Altogether too much so,” said Grace, with a sigh. “When she’s around none of the rest of us has a chance.”
“Don’t mind me, ladies,” chuckled Betty. “I’m not listening.”
“You don’t have to,” said Mollie, the ever-generous. “You know it anyway, without our telling you. All the boys are crazy about you——”
“Even Percy Falconer,” murmured Grace, and Betty wrinkled up her pretty little nose.
“Why spoil a perfect morning by mentioning Percy?” she inquired. “I should think you’d know better, Gracie.”
Percy Falconer, a native of Deepdale, was a fast and fatuous young man with more money than brains. He was a dandy with a liking for the extreme in style, and on several occasions had attempted to ingratiate himself with Betty. However, Betty had always managed to discourage his budding attentions, and usually in a manner most discomforting to Percy. It goes without saying that the youth was a standing joke with the girls.
“I hear Percy isn’t going with that fast crowd any more,” spoke up gentle Amy. “Maybe he’s reformed.”
“Well,” remarked Mollie, her nose in the air, “I’ll say he can stand a good bit of it.”
For a while everything went well with the girls and they were beginning to see visions of getting to camp in time to cook luncheon when suddenly something went wrong with the Gem’s engine. It did not go dead, but there was a queer note in its putt-putting that worried Betty.
As they were passing Triangle Island—one of the many picturesque islands which dotted the Argono River—Grace suggested that they run into shore while Mollie and Betty “looked the engine over.”