“No, I don’t. It isn’t your brand of fun. But it’s mighty curious. Do you suppose we should all go up there right now, and go over every inch of the place—”
“Oh, no. We must go back to Manny and be good cooks,” Nancy answered. “Besides Ruth, she has my check and I’m anxious to see if it is still there, not just a dream check you know,” she smiled understandingly at Ruth.
Rather towsled from their bath, and the lack of time and tools for hair arrangements, the party of girls presently started off to take their domestic science lesson. Along the way they met and hailed a number of friends, for at bathing hour the lake drew folks from all parts of the village and its suburbs, but there was no time for tarrying as Miss Manners insisted upon promptness, and no one willingly ever disregarded her rule.
It was a merry little group that, all aproned and capped, listened first to Miss Manners explanation of rules and reasons, and then they themselves undertook the practical art of applying this knowledge.
But Nancy could not forget her experience. It had been so weird, so wild, in fact, to hear those noises coming from nowhere.
Ruth was beating the eggs light as air for her cherished cream puffs; Isabel was carefully creaming an equally dainty concoction in her middle-sized yellow bowl, and the other girls were being similarly and as practically engaged, when a shadow, a large manly shadow, darkened the glass that formed the upper part of the store door.
“A visitor!” exclaimed Marion, smoothing her cap at the risk of spoiling her batter.
Miss Manners stepped to the door to answer the knock.
“Mr. Sanders!” the girls whispered one to another, as they saw Miss Manners greet the caller.
“Maybe he’s going to inspect—” Christine began, but was stopped by Miss Manners speaking.