It was high noon before, satisfied to repletion, they leaned back against the big Rock and viewed apathetically the scattered remains of the feast. The remains weren’t many, however. A five mile walk on a crisp October morning is calculated to produce a very gluttonish appetite, and even the twins had surpassed themselves. Tad, watching them alarmedly, had feared that they would become ‘bored!’
“Someone,” he murmured sleepily, “ought to clear up that mess. You’re nearest to it, Rod.”
“Lazy duffer!” murmured Rod, depositing with an effort a crumpled wad of napkin and a banana peel in one of the cracker boxes and then subsiding again.
“Don’t overtax your strength,” warned Tad. The twins giggled. Kitty, alone of the five, seemed unaffected by the general lassitude. He sat erect and blinked solemnly at the autumn world as though planning new feats of pedestrianism. Rodney, watching him lazily, expected any moment to see him jump up and stride off toward the horizon. Presently Tad, who had apparently gone to sleep, broke the silence.
“There was a young fellow named Tad,
A worthy and excellent lad,
He went off with a bunch
And ate too much lunch,
And the fate of that Tad lad was sad.”
Matty sat up and clapped her hands. “Let’s all do it! Let’s all make limericks. You make the next one, Rod.”