“Surest thing,” agreed Ben. “And we were all loaded up for a jolly time. Just look at that basket of apples! Tom’s contribution.”
“And be careful of the other stuff. That’s Ben’s contribution,” mocked Tom.
“Wait until I deposit the patient. Here, Trix, please—”
“Oh, say! I’m all right. I kin sit right on that basket—”
“No, you can’t either. Sit here,” ordered Ben. “We may make camp yet.”
There was plenty of room in the four seated town car, one of those open-sided, covered-topped, bright yellow wagons, that always look so jolly and have no passenger limit.
The fragrant fruit, fresh from Barbend, the bag of hickory nuts, Gloria knew so well the trees that contributed these—then the little flower pot with a pink bloom sticking out of a paper bag under the front seat—that would be a potted slip of Jane’s house geranium.
The two discarded bicycles were tied on the roof of the car as they started off.
“We’ll stop at Dr. Daly’s with that ankle,” announced Trixy. “Glo, you must be miserable in those wet things, but just think of the good times coming!”
“I do!” The thought must have been overwhelming for Gloria seemed to choke on it.