"I—I'll throw something at you if you don't stop!" threatened the Gibson girl, but as all she had in her hand was a chocolate, and as she never would have devoted that to such a purpose, she once more curled up luxuriously on the sofa.
"Edgemere—on the edge of the ocean," translated Betty. "It's the name of our cottage. Now, girls, I'm just dying to have you see it. I brought back some picture postcards of the place. Ocean View is the dearest, quaintest old fishing village you can imagine. It's like Provincetown, somewhat, only different, and——"
"What's that?" suddenly interrupted Grace.
"The boys," spoke Mollie. "As if that awful racket could be anything else."
There sounded on the porch of the Nelson home the heavy tramp of several feet, and the murmur of eager voices.
"Are the girls here?" someone asked.
"That's my brother, Will—bother! I suppose I have to go home," said Grace, petulantly.
"I'll go see," offered Betty. "It sounds like more than Will."
"It is!" cried Mollie, peering under the window shade. "There's Amy's brother, besides Allen Washburn, Roy Anderson and—oh, there's that johnny—Percy Falconer. What in the world can have brought them all here?"
"Natural attractions—the magnet—as the flower draws the bee—and so on and so on," murmured Betty. "I'll ask them in," and she went to meet the boys whose voices could now be heard in the hall.