“Isn’t this the best fun ever? Oh, Nan, I pretty near love Billy for thinking of such a thing. Don’t you?”
“Well, I wouldn’t say love exactly.”
“I would! I can’t see the use in beating ’round the bush about such matters. He is certainly the nicest person we know and does more kind things for us.”
“He is nice and I do like him a lot,” confessed Nan.
“Better than the count and Mr. Tom Smith?”
“I don’t see what they have to do with it,” and Nan got rosy from her exertion of goose stepping through the water and up the muddy hill.
“Well, the old count talked about taking a trip with you to the land of dreaming, wherever that is, and Tom Smith took you on fine flying bats, but Billy here, he gets some stilts for you and lets you help yourself through the mud. I say, give me Billy every time!”
“Billy is a nice boy; but Count de Lestis is an elegant, cultured gentleman; and Tom Smith—Tom Smith—he—he——”
“I guess you are right—Tom Smith, Tom Smith he he! But flying machines wouldn’t do much good here in the mud, and stilts will get us over the branch dry shod. There’s Helen’s rubber!” and Lucy adroitly lifted the little muddy shoe out of the mire on the end of one of her stilts and with a skillful twist of the wrist flopped it onto dry ground.
When they reached the top of the hill where the road became better they hid their stilts in the bushes, up close to the fence, carefully covering them with dry leaves and brush.