They all laughed, including Mrs. Irving, who had come downstairs. She had not been feeling well of late—the heat had been too much for her—but she had announced a strong desire to accompany the young folks, if they went very far from home.
They found the three boys industriously digging worms, and so intent were they in this absorbing occupation that they did not look up when the party approached.
"What are you doing?" Grace asked, and then, as Allen held up a wriggling candidate for the hook, she shivered and drew back in disgust.
"Ugh," she said, "how I hate the nasty things! Somebody will have to bait my hook for me. I couldn't do it in a million years."
"All right, nobody asked you to. How's that for a good fat one, eh?" asked Roy, as he held up an unusually fine one for her inspection.
"Why is it boys always have to tease?" Betty asked of the world in general. "We know you have to have worms for bait, but that doesn't make us like to look at them."
"Well, I guess that's enough," said Allen, clapping the top on the big tin box, and getting to his feet. "Now if the fish don't like the bait any better than you girls, I shouldn't wonder if we got done out of our supper."
"My aunt says they are wonderfully agreeable," said Mollie as they started down the path, "especially in that pool. She says they just fall over one another in their hurry to get caught."
"And you waited all this time to tell us about it," said Allen reproachfully. "And even then I had to suggest it."
"Yes, if it were just an ordinary pool you could understand it," Frank added. "But a marvel like this! Gee, those fish must be hungry!"