“Oh! She wasn’t here when the lightning struck––”
“No, Miss Jessie. And that was some thunder-clap! Cook says she’ll never get over it. But I guess she will. Bill, the gardener’s boy, says it struck a tree down by the water.”
“So it did,” Jessie rejoined with relief. “Well, I certainly am glad Momsy wasn’t here. It’s all right, Amy,” she called through the screen doors.
“I am glad. I thought it was all wrong by the way you ran. Now let’s go back and get our rugs and the rest of the junk out of the canoe. And, oh, me! Ain’t I hungry!”
Jessie ignored this oft-repeated complaint, saying:
“We should have remembered about the bazaar committee meeting. Momsy would go to that. Do you know, Amy, she thinks she can get the other ladies to agree to have the lawn party out here.”
“Here, in Roselawn?” asked her chum.
“How fine!” ejaculated Amy. “But, Jessie, I wish I could think of some awfully smart idea to work in connection with the lawn party. That lovely, lovely sports coat that Letterblair has in his window has taken my eye.”
“I saw it,” Jessie admitted. “And the card says it goes to the girl under eighteen who suggests the best money-making scheme in unusual channels that can be used by the bazaar committee. Yes, it’s lovely.”