“If you will all kindly line up for chow,” suggested Louise. “I don’t see any nor scent any, but some should be about. There goes the twelve o’clock boat.”
“Comes, you mean,” corrected Isabel. “It’s steaming into our dock.”
“Company, and on moving day!” exclaimed Julia, dancing around in shameless joy. “There comes the old Hawk soaring in, sure enough.”
A couple of toots and a few squawks from the smoke-stack of the Hawk (or thereabouts) and the steamer glided in majestically, unmindful of the coming bump.
“Kids, Kidlets, and Kiddies!” exclaimed Cleo, as through the trees the dock could be seen fairly crawling with youngsters.
Miss Mackin had joined the ranks of the spectators. “Looks like our fresh air camp,” she gasped.
“Allow me to do the honors,” orated Isabel. “That motley throng reminds me of my last birthday party. They’re all broke out in bundles.”
“Wait; they may not be coming here,” interrupted Julia. “Why couldn’t some other camp have company?”
“Because it’s our last day of surprises,” Cleo said, springing to a tree stump for a better view of the dock. “That contingent is headed this way. Let’s prepare.”
But surprise akin to astonishment was the only preparation noticeable. New gasps and exclamations were plentifully in evidence, and the omissions mentioned as within the rules of too full a day were now very definitely settled upon, for even the noon-day meal was falling in arrears.