The man seemed to start, and looked sharply at Cora.
“Camp Surprise; eh!” he exclaimed.
“Know anything about it?” asked Walter. “We have been expecting to be surprised, but haven’t been, so far.”
“I know they tell queer stories about it,” said Mr. Ware, “but that’s all I do know. Maybe the surprise party hasn’t started yet.”
“Well, if it’s bound to happen, I wish it would get over and done with,” said Cora. “It’s awfully good of you to give us a lift this way.”
“Glad to do it,” said Mr. Ware. “There’s room on the seat with me for two of you gals—at least the thinnest ones—not meanin’ anything against you,” and he looked at Bess, half smiling.
“Oh, I’m used to it now,” she declared. “You can’t hurt my feelings. I’ll be glad to sit on one of the boxes.”
The wagon contained several crates, and these were utilized as seats, Hazel and Belle, as the “thinnest gals,” sitting on the seat with Mr. Ware.
He drove them to within a half mile of their own camp and they were soon at the bungalow, just as Mr. and Mrs. Floyd were getting anxious about their charges, and were talking of going in search of them.
“What happened to you?” Mrs. Floyd inquired.