“Now, Papa, you must not laugh at me. It is very interesting. They all came for days and days together in the car from somewhere down East, Ontario, I think. And Mr. Gwynne says they are just like a circus. And they play instiments and dance.”
“What, Rosie too? How clever of her!”
The child's laugh rang out joyously. “Oh, Papa, that's awfully funny. And we're going down on our wheels. Nora can ride now, you know, and she's going to take Ethel May's wheel. It's awfully hard to ride, but Nora's as strong as Kathleen.”
“Well, well,” said her father, greatly interested in this exciting but somewhat confused tale. “Just wait until I wash my hands and then you shall tell me what it all means. Thank you for this deliciously cool lemonade. It is very refreshing. You will tell me all about it at lunch.”
The lunch hour was devoted first of all to disentangling from the mass the individual members of the car party, which after an adventurous journey across half a continent had apparently made camp at the Winnipeg freight sheds. Then followed the elucidation of the details of the plan by which this camp was to be attacked and raided during the afternoon.
“Now that I have a fairly clear conception of whom Larry, Joe, Sam, Rosie and Rover are—I think I have them right—”
“Exactly, Papa.”
“I wish to find out just who are to form the advance party, the scouting party.”
“The scouting party? I don't know what you mean. But Nora—you know Nora?”
“Certainly, the little black-eyed Irish Terrier—terror, I mean.”