“His fall must have tired him out,” remarked John Pierce, grinning.
“Come on, Griff,” called Jim. “Eats!”
“Where?” he cried, jumping up. “Oh, I remember.” He sighed deeply, sinking back and covering his face with his hands.
“Oh, cut the comedy, and come on!” directed John Pierce, dragging him to his feet.
Throughout the meal, he assumed the most exaggerated shyness, speaking only in a whisper, and hardly raising his eyes from his plate. No amount of razzing on the part of the others could make him change his manner; and it was only when they began to clear up and wash the dishes, that his real self reappeared.
“Which is worse than the other,” declared Martha.
The girls had managed to get their kodak pictures finished, and the rest of the evening was spent in going over them, and recalling amusing bits of their Nova Scotia tour.
“Like Dad,” said Jim, when the boys prepared to leave, “we won't say good-by; for I'm sure some of us, I won’t say for sure how many, will be at the station in the morning. What time did you say your train goes?”
“Nine something, I think. What is the exact time, Janie?” asked Nancy.
“Nine fifty,” prompted Jeanette.