“Here we are!”
“Where’s the bungalow?”
“Me for that motor boat of Cora’s!” cried Jack.
“No, you don’t!” exclaimed his sister. “Not till I try her first.”
They had alighted at the station, and there was the confusion that always follows engaging a carriage and seeing that the baggage has safely arrived. Cora found time to slip off for a minute and whisper words of cheer to Freda. Then she rejoined her chums, and made ready for the trip to the bungalow.
The boys, with a fine disregard of housekeeping responsibilities, were already making plans to go fishing that afternoon, having spied a man who took out parties in his launch.
But finally order came out of chaos. The girls found themselves at their bungalow, surrounded by their belongings. The boys, after seeing that their possessions were piled in the tent, slipped on their oldest garments and began overhauling their fishing tackle.
“Aren’t you going to do anything toward getting a meal?” asked Cora of Jack, as she went over to the tent to borrow a corkscrew with which to open some olives.
“We thought maybe you’d ask us over,” he answered, craftily, as he adjusted a reel on his rod.
“Oh, Jack!” she cried. “We can’t! We’ve got so much to unpack. Besides, we’re only going to have a light lunch now.”