"If that's the way you feel," put in Allen whimsically, "won't everybody please jump on me at once?"
"Yes, I always had a weakness for the under dog," Betty was beginning wickedly when Mollie drew sharply away from her, and the others began to laugh.
"Betty Nelson," said Mollie reproachfully, "I never expected it of you. Under dog, indeed——"
"Oh, I didn't mean you!" said Betty hurriedly, thereby increasing the general mirth.
"Oh, well, what does it matter, anyway?" said Frank philosophically, as he swung the car around a curve, and brought it to a standstill. "I won't mind being an under dog or anything else as long as I get my share of the eats. Don't you think this is rather a pretty spot to have lunch?"
"I know a better spot to put it, though," said Roy jocularly, as they sprang out upon the soft grass by the roadside. "And if I have my way it won't be long getting there."
Instinctively, Betty held out a hand to Allen, as he descended more slowly than the rest—she was very anxious about his "wabbliness."
Allen took the little hand eagerly, but it is doubtful if he gained much physical support from it.
"How are you feeling?" asked Betty as they followed the others up the grassy slope to a sort of ledge—just the kind of place for a picnic lunch. She did not look at him. Somehow, it was almost impossible to look at Allen, these days.
"Happy," he answered, in reply to her question. "Just being near you,
Betty, makes me the happiest fellow on earth!"