At the Scout table the overdue meal was being greatly relished.
“How long are they going to stay?” ventured Grace. The question shot repeaters from all eyes around the festive board, for while the picnic interruption was all right as far as it went, it would never do to have those babes interfere with the evening’s programme. That was to feature Peg’s story in every last absorbing detail, and they were all eager to hear it.
“Yes,” repeated Cleo, looking straight at Miss Mackin. “How long are they going to stay?”
“I don’t know,” replied Mackey, evasively.
“Didn’t they say, the leader I mean?” pressed Louise, losing a choice bit of cookie in her anxiety.
“No, not a mention of it.”
“You don’t suppose they expect to camp here to-night!” Corene almost gasped.
“You see, it is known our camp is to be given over, and these clever little people have taken first chance. We have got to be good to them,” insisted Miss Mackin slyly.
Everyone stopped eating and sat up aggressively.
“But our camp wouldn’t hold a picnic, at any rate,” spoke Grace pertly.