“Sure! Try ’em on. You’ll look sweet in ’em.”
“I don’t care whether I look sweet as long as I feel dry,” retorted Walter.
And while the girls prepared the supper, he changed to the garments Jack had used, they having dried sufficiently.
With the hot tea, and with what Walter had foraged for, a really good meal was made. The young people were hungry, and their appetites made up for any lack in the nicety of the food.
“It was a regular country store,” Walter explained, “but they had some good things.”
“And now we have ’em,” murmured Jack, tipping back on his stool contentedly.
It was still early, for the storm had brought darkness ahead of time, and, unwilling to retire so soon with no very good prospects of sleeping, the boys and girls sat up and talked.
“I wonder what Mr. and Mrs. Floyd will think, when we fail to arrive on time,” remarked Cora. “I hope they don’t send telegrams home, telling the folks we have turned up missing.”
“I don’t believe they will,” argued Jack. “They’ll know the storm delayed us. And in the morning we can send telegrams ourselves, notifying our folks that we’re all right, any reports to the contrary notwithstanding.”
The girls passed a fairly comfortable, and the boys a rather uncomfortable night, but it could not, as Jack said, last forever, and a bright morning sun made them all forget the discomforts.