“Come on to my room. I’m staying with the dearest little old lady in the world. Several of the other players have rooms with her too and we tear off a lot of fun when we aren’t working,” Betty told them as they went along the street.
“What ducky little houses these are,” Jane said to Frances. “But not as charming as Plymouth do you think, Betty?”
“I think that the Greenwich Villagers, who come here for the summer, leave their mark just as they do everywhere. It is really more attractive in the winter when just the natives themselves are here,” explained Betty.
Soon they were all in Betty’s neat room, lolling about on the bed, eating chocolates, and examining Betty’s new snapshots and possessions and exchanging adventures. After Betty had been duly told of the upset at Plymouth, they all began to plan how they were to hold their reunion. At last, they decided on a clambake as the best.
The little old lady who owned the house agreed to let them have a room with a double bed in it and by doubling up in one room and tripling up in the other they thought they could pass the night ashore.
As soon as the sun set, the five friends trooped down to the beach and, gathering driftwood enough to bake all the clams in the world, started a huge campfire.
“Um, I think baked clams are the most delicious things in the world,” said Jane as she ate her last one.
“Honestly, children, I am just too glad that you came by to see me. I was wondering how I was going to get through the summer without seeing at least some of the Camp Fire Girls,” Betty smiled at the girls.
“I wish you had time to go for a few days’ sail with us. Don’t you suppose you could?” Mabel begged.