Tom grabbed a huge mass of broken laurel branches, made his way to a corner, placed two chairs before the pile of greens and deliberately sought out Dorothy.
"Come," he said very kindly, "I've got a quiet job for you. You usually get too much of the all-around business. Let us run a race making the wreath, or strings, I suppose you want. Here, Ned," he called across the room, "get your stuff and your girl, and I'll race you for a mile of green string."
Could anything be more inopportune? To select Dorothy to be his partner against Ned in a race!
But the idea of a contest was quickly taken up by the others, so that soon the party had paired off, and racing with the strings of laurel became a matter of enjoyment, and not a question of work.
Dorothy took her place with Tom; Agnes Sinclair was with Ned; Nat went to work with Eva Brownlie, and Tavia sat beside Roland.
How quickly the fingers flew! And how soon the small sprigs of green were twined into long, soft garlands!
"I'll keep tally," proffered Edith Brownlie, glad to escape the more certain duty of tying the cords about the boughs.
For an hour all worked and chatted gaily, the boys continually "betting against bets," while the girls would complain that too much conversation interfered with the progress of the race.
When the full hour had passed Edith called "Time!" Then the measuring began.
"No stretching!" warned Ned as he held his rope of green against that which Tom and Dorothy had woven.