“What about Dorothy Dixon?”
“Aw, shucks! We’re just good pals, and you know it.”
“Says you!”
“Says both of us. I’m seventeen, and she’s a year younger. Neither of us is thinking about getting married, or anything like that.”
“Gee, I forget you’re really only a kid,” laughed Osceola. “Well, let’s shove off. The girls are going up there in Dorothy’s plane. They said they’d bring lunch. Where is this place we’re going to picnic, anyway?”
“Up in the hills beyond Danbury. It’s quite near the far end of Candlewood Lake.”
“Was it up that way you and Dorothy corralled the New Canaan bank robbers?”
“Yes, quite near there. That’s how we learned of the wood lot. It’s secluded, there’s a good spring, and it’s really a peach of a place for a picnic.”
“Well, let’s get goin’ then.”
“Coming, Romeo—coming!” Bill followed his impatient friend out of the room. “What’s eatin’ you? It’s early yet.”