“Let’s leave him a note and put it on the berries,” said Chub.
After some discussion this plan was agreed to. Dick supplied a scrap of paper from the back of an envelop and Chub had a pencil at the end of his watch chain.
“I suppose this ought to be in rhyme,” said Chub, “but it’s beyond me.”
“Oh, never mind that,” said Roy. “We can’t all be poets.”
“Well, how will this do? ‘The pleasure of W. N.’s company is cordially requested at Camp Torohadik this evening at six thirty for supper. R.S.V.P.’ Is that all right?”
“Dandy!” cried Harry.
“Fine,” said Dick and Roy in unison. “Only,” added Roy, “I’d leave off the ‘R.S.V.P.’ part of it. We don’t want him coming around this afternoon while we’re away.”
“That’s so,” laughed Chub, cancelling the letters, “the tent’s only pegged down.”
“If he’d wanted to steal anything he could have done it when he left that note,” said Harry indignantly.
“Please be careful how you speak of Harry’s poet,” begged Dick, “or we won’t get any more doughnuts and cookies.”