“Maybe we have, but we are so chuck full of work and fight that the quiet t’ings ain’t got time to sift out, yeh see. Ef we was to settle down quiet-like for a week at Happy Hills mebbe somethin’ would show up fer us, too.”
“Well, t’ank goodness we got a ticket to take a vacation anyway! I hope to goodness, dey don’t make you sing church hymns and pray every udder minute of de day!” muttered Skelly.
“Don’tche go an’ spoil everyt’ing at camp wid your kickin’, Skelly! Ef you don’t like de way t’ings are run yeh kin always go back to de city, yeh know. It ain’t costin’ yuh nuttin’,” advised Micky, with anxious concern.
“Oh, I’ll try and stick it out fer a week, as long as you t’ink you’ll stay too.”
When the station was called out where the two boys had to leave the train, they looked eagerly about at the lovely scene. Green grass, green trees, green bushes everywhere and no sign up: “Keep Off, Private Grounds”—or familiar boards such as they knew of in the city parks which read: “Keep off the Grass”—“Don’t pick flowers.”
“Gee, Micky! Even de sky looks green wid de udder green t’ings a-shinin’,” breathed Skelly, softly.
A lark suddenly began his lay and the two boys looked at each other, then about them for the songster.
“Dis is somethin’ like, eh, Skelly?” chuckled Micky.
“Bet’cher life, pard! Come on, le’s hurry to camp an’ see what it’s like. Ef it’s anything like dis, I kin stand a week of it,” replied delighted Skelly.
Before either boy could see which country road to take, a touring car sped up and Uncle Ben hailed the travellers.