“Aren’t you?” asked Walter. “What do you call that place where the notes grow on the gas jets?”
“Why, that’s a regular up-to-date cottage, including——”
“Mother and chaperone,” added Belle. “I cannot see why the most needful adjunct does not arrive in the person of Nettie, our star maid. I had to dry dishes this morning,” and she looked gloomily at her white hands.
“That’s what is called camping,” advised Jack. “I am going to do the supper dishes, Ed will do the dinner dishes, his hands are nice and soft for grease, and Walter will ’tend to the tea—things. Don’t forget, Wallie, the tea things for yours!”
“It usually rains at night,” Walter remarked. “I don’t mind putting the things in a dishpan outside.”
“And have them dried in the sunny dew! Oh, back to nature! You wonderful back-to-nature faker!” cried Ed.
“Nature must have an awful ‘back-ache,’” finished Jack. “I would hate to have her job these days.”
“Here we are!” announced Ed, as they reached the cabin on the beach. “Isn’t this the real thing?”
“Oh, what a fine bungalow!” exclaimed Cora.
“Isn’t it splendid!” added Belle.