“I wasn’t. Besides, there isn’t a Yardley fellow in sight.”
To make sure all four glanced about them. Their gaze passed over Kendall unsuspectingly. It never occurred to any of them that the countrified looking youth in ill-fitting pepper-and-salt clothes was a Yardlian. Kendall was diligently consuming his ice-cream soda and apparently was not even conscious of the quartette’s existence.
“Well, anyhow,” pursued the remonstrant, “keep your voice down. You never know who’s going to hear.”
“For my part,” said another, “I wouldn’t mind a little rough-house with those chaps up there. They think they’re the only thing in the state of Connecticut, the conceited pups!”
“What time did Hurd say he’d have the carriage up there?”
“Nine-thirty. I told him to stop about a hundred yards this side of the corner and wait until we came; told him he might have to wait an hour.”
“We won’t be able to get away until after ten. What’s the use having him come so early?”
“So he will be on time. If I’d said ten he’d been there about half-past, probably.”
“How long will it take to get to Yardley?”
“Three-quarters of an hour, I guess. We’ll leave the carriage at the foot of the hill and sneak up on foot.”