A warning chuckle from Alma, cut short her “Betta.” Until this attractive girl learned to respect the all-American R she would never know peace with her companions.
Joining the others the merry party hiked along; singing, whistling, calling, laughing and making noises peculiar to girls out on picnics bent.
Mr. and Mrs. Manton rode to the Ledge, deposited their treat and were ready to be on their way and leave the girls to their own good time, almost as soon as the party arrived.
“Oh, stay,” besought Pell. “We are counting on having you in for our games——”
“I wish I could,” replied the big brown Jerry. “But the fact is this wife of mine has planned a little picnic all of her own. You see, when she got me in on this she knew I could not back out on hers. Yes,” he sighed affectedly, “she has made me promise to take her out canoeing, and I am not sure what terror she has set for me at the end of the stream.”
“Oh, are you really going down the stream?” cried Treble. “I have just longed for a ride down through the rapids——”
“Well, you best not take it,” spoke up Mrs. Ted. “I am going down the stream only to explore. And I would not go without the strong arm of a man at the keel.”
“Oh, Jimbsy, where art thou?” wailed Thistle. “Why didn’t we treat you right! Your gallant craft——”
“Get the water there, Cicero,” shouted Doro. “This lunch is to have lemonade a la carte, and there isn’t a drop of water in the house. Sorry to disturb the oration——”
“Gimme the pail,” snapped the interrupted Thistle. “I never yet started anything that Doro didn’t finish.”