“Oh, forget it,” answered Cara. “Don’t try to remember it. But say Dud, listen. Where has Nicky flitted to? That’s the great question.”
“How should I know? He just plunked the wooden thing under my nose and I plunked a dollar bill in his fist, and there you are!” Dudley could be brief and expressive at times.
“Let’s go, Cara,” urged Babs. “I really must go, you know,” she insisted.
“Oh, say,” interrupted Glenn. “Who was going to eat that box of writing paper? Call the waiter. Here!” this was to a boy who stood grinning behind the counter. “Where’s your best stationery——”
“If you are going to treat us, Glenn,” Cara cut in, “let’s select our own. Do, please. Come along Babs. We’ll teach him not to be rash. We’ll buy the very best,” and laughingly, she led Babs to the pretty glass counter in the very back of the store where all sorts of attractive things in stationery and powder boxes were gaudily displayed.
A little later, armed each with a magazine that Dudley insisted upon buying them, and the gold-edged blue-lined writing paper that Glenn gladly paid for, they finally made their escape.
“Do let’s rush along,” begged Babs. “We must get to the lighthouse before supper-time and I suppose they eat at six o’clock sharp, government time,” she suggested gaily. “Oh, Cara, I am feeling better every minute, aren’t you?”
“Yes, it’s the soda, the writing paper and the magazine. All cheerful little things,” Cara answered, starting her car. “But say, Babby, did you have any sort of inspiration when Dud told about more wood carving?”
“No, Cara, why?” asked Babs, breathlessly.
“I did.”