“Hurry, they may want the water; at any rate we can treat them to that,” declared Grace, and the water bearers made all possible haste over the trail back to camp, spilling just enough of the fresh fluid to tickle the spangle-weed along the way.
“They’re going to stay! They’re going to stay!” Cleo ran to meet Grace with the good news, for lovely as camp had seemed with the patrol as its sole occupants, the prospects of company “to stay,” and that the guests should be “Dare-to-do-Izzy” as Isabel was popularly called, and jolly little Helen would could “see a joke half a mile off”; no wonder there was new joy apparent in camp.
“Everyone is going,” chirped Julia, “and I hope they all saw how much we have improved.”
“Your pounds, do you mean, Jule? Maybe they couldn’t see them. You should have pointed them out,” teased Louise.
“Now, Weasy, maybe you think they all saw your inches,” returned Julia. “There’s mother’s handkerchief, I know she didn’t intend to leave that to me,” and she hurried to the big gray car, with the dainty speck of lace and linen.
“Give them a cheer,” prompted Miss Mackin.
“Hurrah for the home folks,” led Corene.
“Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!” boomed the lusty cheer, until the hills echoed and the lake repeated the hail.
Then the picnic and shower were over, and the Bobbies were so excited they hardly knew whether to show Izzy the spring or Helen the woodpile.
The colors were lowered by Louise and Julia, and then clouds gathering beyond the rim of trees glowered ominously, and that reminded them that they must hurry to gather more wood before the rain would come.