"Betty'd much rather have Will pick up Allen Washburn," remarked Mollie, in decisive tones. "Wouldn't you, Bet?"
"Oh, please don't say such things!" besought Betty. "I don't see why you always—"
"Hush, they'll hear you," cautioned Grace. "Let's pretend we don't see them. Hurry up! I've got a quarter, and I'll treat you to sodas. Come on in Pierson's drug store."
"Too late!" moaned Billy, in mock-tragic tones. "They are waving to us—we can't be too rude."
Will Ford, the brother of Grace, accompanied by a rather overdressed youth slightly older, had now come up to the group of girls.
"Good afternoon!" greeted Percy Falconer, raising his hat with an elaborate gesture. "Charming weather we're having—my word!" Percy rather inclined to English mannerisms—or what he thought were such.
"Hello, Sis—and the rest of you!" said Will, with a more hearty, and certainly a more natural, air. "What's doing?"
"Grace was going to treat," said Amy slowly; "she is so good about that—only—"
"Oh, girls! This is on me!" exclaimed Percy. "I shall be delighted. May I have the honor?" and again he took off his hat with an elaborate bow.
"Shall we?" Betty telegraphed this question to her friends with her eyes.