A hush followed Cora’s entrance to the living room. Not a single word or exclamation escaped through the Summer hangings that hid the narrow door.
“Do you think it’s a conspiracy?” remarked Walter. “I’m glad we had dinner first. I had no idea that a hurricane went straight to the hunger zone like that.”
“You would be a star to go up North,” commented Ed. “Just fancy carrying stuff in your pockets and starving because the exact latitude for grub had not been reached—wow!”
“I would insist upon being made chairman of the latitude committee,” replied Walter, “and my moves would be swift and certain.”
The door opened and Freda entered. She was not exactly all smiles, but the serious look on her face was not deep enough to cause comment.
“I came to fetch your coffee,” she announced, cheerfully. “You must think we are planning to dynamite something,” she added.
“Oh, worse than that,” replied Dray, getting one more spoonful of slump on the sly. “We thought you were taking a negative vote on the coffee. Nerves, at night, you know.”
“Let me help you,” insisted Belle. “I am almost stiff from sitting, or maybe it is from the way I wasn’t sitting in the bottom of the boat.”
“Very likely,” affirmed Jack. “I would not be surprised if we had to come around in the morning with nippers to get the kinks out. I see one forming, right now, in Lottie’s cheek.”
“We will be stiff, I am sure,” added Bess, “although our muscles ought to be in good form.”