"I wish I knew what the something stood for," said Frank, laughing at her. "It must be good."
"I imagine it would be," said Betty, laughing back at him, "if I only knew myself."
"Stop fooling, you two, and help us think of something," Mollie demanded. "We can't stand here and admire the view all day."
"What would you suggest?" Frank asked politely. "We are willing to give weighty consideration to anything you say."
Mollie looked weakly about her for support. "Grace, can't you do anything with him?" she pleaded. "He does nothing but talk nonsense all day long."
"And just after he's paid you a compliment," Grace drawled. "I wonder you call that nonsense."
Mollie had opened her mouth for a stinging rejoinder, but before she could voice it there came a disturbance from a new and unexpected quarter. The bushes parted and two figures emerged—a young man and a girl.
Astonishment held the little group motionless, but the strangers, or so they appeared, stepped forward impulsively.
"It's no wonder you don't remember me," said the girl impulsively, "since I was dressed very differently when you last saw me. I am Anita Benton—the girl you rescued the other day."
As usual, Betty was the first to find her voice. "Oh, we are glad to see you!" she said warmly. "We were wondering when you and your brother were coming to pay us that promised visit."