"It's boiling!" finally announced Betty. "Hand me the tea ball,
Amy, my dear."
Pouring the steaming water over the silver tea ball, Betty circulated it around in the cup, until one fragrant brew was made. She passed this over to Mollie, and proceeded to make another.
"It's delicious!" cried the French girl, as she tasted it, cream and sugar having been added. "Oh, isn't this just lovely!"
"Perfect," murmured Grace. "I wouldn't have missed this for anything!"
In pure enjoyment they reclined on the grass after the meal, and then, as Betty, after a look at her watch, warned them that the better half of their journey still lay before them, they started off again.
They had proceeded a mile or so, and the way was not so pleasant now, for the road was sandy, when they came to a fork of the highway. A time-worn sign-post bore letters that could scarcely be made out, and, though they had a road map, the girls were not quite sure which way to take to get to Rockford. They were debating the matter, alternately consulting the map and the sign-post, when a farmer drove past.
"Which road to Rockford, please?" hailed Betty.
"Th' left!" he exclaimed, sententiously. "G'lang there!" This last to the horses, not to the girls.
"The road map seems to say the road to the right," murmured Betty, as the farmer drove that way himself.
"Well, he ought to know," insisted Grace. "We'll take the left," and they did.