The boy descended from the ladder, and he and the girl stepped a little distance down the short walk toward the gate to admire the result of their labors. Gil and Poke went on, the latter chuckling.
“‘Sunnywood Cottage,’” he murmured. “Guess there wasn’t anything very sunny about the place when Mrs. Timberlake had it. I wonder who the girl is?”
“Miss Sunnywood,” replied Gil instantly.
“Thanks,” said Poke, turning to steal another look at the young lady. “You’re a veritable mine of information, Gil. The house is looking rather nice, isn’t it? Must have painted it, I guess.”
“Yes, and her hair is very pretty,” laughed Gil.
“Oh, you run away,” Poke retorted. “Wonder who the chap is?”
“You seem mighty interested in the family. Like to call there on the way back?”
“That’s not a bad idea! We might make believe we wanted to rent a room.”
“We might,” Gil laughed. He, too, turned for a glance at the cottage. “Guess a fellow could be pretty comfy at Sunnywood. Funny, isn’t it, how some houses look homey and comfy and others sort of give you the creeps. Look at Jones’s; wouldn’t live there for a hundred dollars a month!”
“I wonder if a fellow has more fun living in the village,” mused Poke. “Of course it’s nice being in hall when you know there are loads of chaps envying you your room, but, after all, we don’t have much chance for larks, what with study hour, and being in at ten, and all that. I believe I’d like to try a house next year, Gil.”