“Maybe it’s a snapper,” said Jane. “You wouldn’t like it if Robin’s Grandmother had her finger snapped off by a turtle, would you?”
“Aw,” said James in disgust. “You’re always thinking of something like that,” and gathering his turtle and his fishing tackle up in his arms, he started away. Just as he left the pier he turned and narrowed his eyes. With just one word he summed up what he thought of Jane, her arguments, her ideas, and her contemporaries.
“Dames ...” he said, witheringly.
Janie turned and hid her face in her arms, and laughed until she shook. Then she gathered up Butchie and ran for the cottage.
Grandma was peeling green apples for pie. “Grandma,” she said. “Have you noticed that this summer has been much too short?”
“Yes, Jane. Every summer seems a little shorter than the last. When I was a little girl the summer days seemed to stretch in front of me like years. Now I have so much to do and so much to think about that the years fly past like days.” A long green peeling fell to the floor in the shape of a treble clef, and Grandma’s sharp little paring knife twinkled around another apple. “Your mother had a telephone message,” she said. “It seems that your friend Dor is coming out on the five o’clock bus.”
“Oh goody, oh wonderful, Grandma!” She gave her a hug that sent the little green apples flying all over the porch.
“You wild one,” said Grandma, straightening her glasses. Jane was down on her hands and knees searching for the runaways.
“I’m so sorry,” she said. “Just for that I’ll stay here and help you peel them.”
The afternoon passed quickly, and at five o’clock Mom drove down to the bus station with Janie beside her and the three curious boys in the back. The passengers got off on the other side of the bus, so they saw their feet and legs first. It was easy to identify Mr. Williams by his brief case. The bus driver helped an old lady off with her suitcase and then a pair of sun-tanned legs swung off the steps and Dor appeared around the corner of the bus.