“Doomed?” laughed Cora.
“Did I say doomed?” Walter answered. “How careless of me! Of course I meant destined to refinement.”
“I suppose you’ll be eating lotus blossoms and water lilies before long,” called out Jack, as the cars started up again.
“Watch me when lunch time comes,” grinned Walter. “But I don’t mind what you fellows say. I’ve got two refining influences while you have only one.”
“You need all you can get,” was Jack’s parting shot.
With merry chaff and banter, the time flew by as though on wings. They had lunch at a quaint little inn by the roadside, and Walter proved that the charms of feminine society had not yet begun to affect his appetite. But then, as he explained, the cure would be all the more effective if it were gradual, and he had plenty of time yet to climb to higher planes.
In the early afternoon they were turning a bend in the road, when Cora gave a sudden exclamation.
“Look!” she cried, pointing to a little glade at the right of the road. “There’s a camp of some kind. I do believe it’s gypsies!”
“Guessed it right the first time,” declared Walter.
“That’s what it is,” agreed Bess. “Oh, Cora, don’t you think we might stop a few minutes? I’d dearly love to have a look at them, if you think we can spare the time.”