At the mention of the “fine young man” Gloria was afraid she might betray herself. She really had been getting letters from him—purely business letters, of course, but then Trixy might make a joke of that. So she said:
“The Hardys are splendid. Since they have have had our house they have done all the necessary repairing, not letting our agent spend a cent on the place. You see, Mr. Hardy is a big city contractor.”
“Yeppy, I know that also,” confessed the shameless Trixy. “And his son is a science bug, isn’t he? Millie Graham is having a wonderful time showing him all the high bug-spots around Barbend.”
“I haven’t heard from Millie,” admitted Gloria. A sense of impending disaster was almost chilling her. She had been for more than a month without an intimate companion, and she knew now she could go without one no longer. True, Trixy was a “cut-up” and older, but she had shown that initiative and generosity that always begets friendship. She had from the very beginning “taken on” Gloria. And Trixy was one of the popular girls. She had her own car, she had a wonderful home, and only because she was so fond of her father’s interests as an important manufacturer did she go to school in Sandford, rather than to a fashionable boarding school. She wanted to be home with her parents until she would have to go to college.
These particulars were forcing themselves upon Gloria as the trolley was nearing the Big Tree, the stopping point for Crystal Springs, and passengers were gathering up belongings preparing to leave the car.
“What a happy thought to come here,” remarked Gloria as they too prepared to alight. “I should have been eating in solitude out in the farthest corner of the grounds if you had not taken pity upon me.”
An energetic squeeze upon the arm nearest Trixy made mute reply. It took but a few moments to reach the Springs and here the two girls quickly betook themselves to their lunches.
“It took eight minutes to come out, and allowing that with a margin for the return trip, we may frolic twenty minutes,” said the practical Trixy.
“Let’s eat quickly then,” suggested her companion. “I am dying to run over this lovely little woodland. It looks like the stamping ground of elves and fanes.”
“Lot’s of ’em,” declared Trixy, gulping down more than one bite of sandwich. “Here, try my cake. Our cook, Biffy, is famous for her chocolate.”