"Probably false," suggested Will. "One of the kind you stick on with molasses—like feathers—"
"Oh, do be sensible," cried Mollie impatiently. "Of course you can't go holding him up at the point of a gun, but there ought to be something—"
"Give us time, give us time," Allen interrupted. "Wasn't it Antony who had time and conquered, or something like that—"
"Goodness, anybody'd know you'd been out of school a long time," drawled Grace scathingly. "Mark Antony, indeed!"
"Well, it was one of those guys, anyway," maintained Allen, with admirable impartiality. "And you have to admit the sentiment was fine. All we ask is time—"
"And a little grub," supplemented Will hungrily. "It seems to me I remember somebody saying a couple of hours ago that we were even then approaching our destination, and we seem to be getting no nearer rapidly—"
"Oh, do try to be sensible," cried Mollie, for the second time. "If you would only have some patience—"
"Never heard the word," declared Will with a grin, and Mollie made a face at him—a very disrespectful face.
"Well, but when—" Will was insisting plaintively when Betty interrupted him with a cry of delight.
"Look, people," she said, breaking away from them and running up the rather steep bank lightly.