“I don’t care for such drastic methods,” she retorted. “I’d rather take the flesh off more gradually. Besides,” she added with a show of pride, “I’m going down quite fast enough as it is. I’m two pounds lighter than I was last week.”
“Swell chance you have of getting thinner when you will keep nibbling at chocolate creams,” remarked her sister unbelievingly. “You might hand some over, you stingy thing, instead of keeping them all to yourself.”
“No such thing!” denied Bess, producing a small box. “They’re lemon drops, and everybody knows they don’t make you”—she was going to say “fat,” but checked herself just in time to substitute “plump.”
“Slip one into my mouth, Belle,” commanded Cora. “I don’t dare to take my hand from the wheel.”
“I noticed that you took it away fast enough when you wanted to pinch me,” remarked Bess.
“That was different,” returned Cora. “You asked me to, and I’d do a good deal to oblige a friend.”
“Heaven save me from my friends,” sighed Bess, and then they all laughed.
For laughter came easy on a day like this. The sun of early August was tempered by a light breeze that removed any suspicion of sultriness. The road was a good one, and Cora’s car under her expert guidance glided along with scarcely a jar. Great trees on either side provided a grateful shade. Squirrels scolded noisily in the branches, and here and there a chipmunk slipped like a shadow along the fences and the hum of the locusts filled the air with a dreamy harmony. A bobolink flitted across the road, dropping a whole sheaf of silver notes from his joyous throat. It was a day on which it was good to be alive.
“To think that we’re really on our way to the Adirondacks,” murmured Belle delightedly. “I’ve wanted to go there ever since I wore pigtails.”
“And to Camp Kill Kare,” said Bess. “The very name seems to promise all kinds of fun.”