So they went in without further word spoken, and after all Marjorie found herself the possessor of as good an appetite as she'd had for breakfast.
"Be sure to get back in time to dress for the dance," Peggy warned them as they started off in the motor-cycle. "It's to be a really fine dance, with the girls in muslin dresses, not brogans and shirtwaists!"
"The girls?" asked Marjorie of Francis wonderingly.
"I think she means that the men aren't to wear brogans, or the girls shirtwaists," he explained, as they whizzed down what seemed invisible tracks in a trackless forest. "Smell the pines—aren't they good?"
Marjorie looked up, beaming.
"Stunning!" she said. "I don't see how you ever wanted to come to New
York, after you'd had this."
"After a long time of this New York is pleasant again," he said. "But
I hope you won't tire of this, my dear."
"Oh, no!" she said fervently. "I'm crazy to go on, and see the cabins you told me about. I can amuse myself there the whole afternoon, if you have other things you want to do."
"You dear!" said Francis.
After that they were quiet, and rode on together, enjoying the glorious afternoon.