“She has a great time with Nora, I notice,” remarked Doro. “I fancy between the two of them they have fixed it up about the prince. Shouldn’t be a bit surprised if they invited him to the picnic.”
“Now, remember,” ordered Wyn, “don’t dare say prince. Say duke if you must, but spare Alma’s feelings on the princeling. But honestly, girls, wasn’t it a joke?”
“Not to Alma,” answered Treble. “She certainly had a vision if she did not see a prince. Here she comes. Look at the bundles! Land sakes alive! If it’s more grub I’m going to duck. My fingers are mooing now from spreading butter,” and Treble plastered a slab of the yellow paste on a square of bread, quite as if it were intended as mortar for a sky-scraper.
An hour later they were on their way. Nora might have ridden out to the Ledge in the little runabout, but she preferred to walk with the girls.
“I’m so excited about joining,” she confided to Betta and Alma, her hike partners. “I feel as if I were going to have my final exams.”
“You don’t want to,” advised Betta. “You know your manual perfectly, and have nothing to worry about. But we shall all be so glad, Nora, when you are really a Scout. It is all well enough to be a lone Scout out in the wilderness, but while we’re around there is no sense in such isolation.”
“The Lone Scout! Oh, I was fascinated reading about the provisions for such an individual arrangement. Just imagine being a troop of one,” said Nora.
“About as interesting as Laddie’s collection of one piece of genuine mica,” replied Betta. “As much as I detest the girls” (she gave Alma’s arms an affectionate squeeze in explanation), “still, I would rather be pestered with them than to be a Lone Scout on the Big Mountain. There, Nora! That would make a stunning title for your coming book.”
“What book?” demanded the unsuspecting Nora.
“The one that is coming next,” serenely replied Betta. “But let us hasten! See yon girls are turning into the other yon road,” she went on. “We betta——”