The amount seemed far too high for the service rendered, but Mr. Parker paid it without comment. His shoes were caked with mud, and so were the trouser legs of his suit. Only by an effort of will did he keep his temper under control.
“Figurin’ on camping in the Rhett Forest?” the farmer asked Mr. Parker.
“That’s right. Is it much farther?”
“Only a little piece down the road. You’ll strike gravel at the next corner. You can make it if you’re careful. I don’t calculate you’ll have much fun camping in the Park though.”
“Why not?” asked Penny.
“We’ve had a lot o’ rain lately. The mosquitoes are bitin’ something fierce. And the ground’s mighty damp.”
“We have a floor to our tent,” Penny said optimistically. “I think camping will be fun. I’ve always wanted to try it.”
The farmer started the tractor. “Then don’t let me discourage you,” he shrugged. “So long.”
Mr. Parker rejoined Penny in the car. “Why not call this whole thing off?” he suggested. “We could go to the hotel and—”
“No, Dad! You promised me!”