“I think that would be a good plan,” Jack agreed. “I fancy as soon as we come down on those fellows good and hard, they will be forced to show their hand.”
So it was arranged that Mrs. Lewis should go to the town, some twenty-five miles away.
“And Freda,” she said, “don’t worry if I am not back until the last train, for if he should happen to be in New York I will wait for him.”
“Be careful of that cut in the old road,” Freda warned. “Mother, you know it is always dark through there, even in broad daylight, and after dark it is pitchy.”
“I can’t get any train until one o’clock,” went on Mrs. Lewis, “so, Freda, we will hurry back to the bungalow and leave everything ready for tea. We can prepare things while the girls are lunching.”
“Now, you needn’t do anything of the kind,” objected Cora, “we girls can well enough take care of ourselves once in a while. Why, Mrs. Lewis, you have us all spoiled. We are supposed to do most of our own housekeeping in Summer camp, you know.”
“Indeed, you do that now,” returned Mrs. Lewis, who was more than grateful for the opportunity for work that Cora had afforded to her. “I like housekeeping when there is someone to keep for.”
“You had Freda,” Jack reminded her.
“And she wouldn’t let me do enough to keep in practice,” replied Mrs. Lewis. “Here we are, and the young ladies are stringing beans!”
“Now that is what I call sweet of you,” Jack observed as he greeted the four girls, all seated around a low porch table with knives and beans plying from basket to pan. “Who told you we were coming to dine?”