“Yes; we couldn’t work it in daylight very well. It ought to go fine to-night, though.”
“What is it?”
“You wait and see. I’ve got to find Whipple. Say, if you see Ned, tell him I’ll be at the platform in five minutes and want him to meet me there. Everybody keeps getting lost here!”
On the way past the arbor, Laurie ran into George Watson, returning across lots balancing a couple of plates in one hand and holding a large slab of cake in the other, from which he nibbled as he went. “Hello!” he said, none too distinctly. “I’ve been looking for you.”
“Wanted to bring me refreshments, I suppose.”
George looked at the empty plates, laughed, and shook his head. “Not exactly. I’ve been feeding Cornell. Somebody ought to take eats to those girls, Nod; they’re starving!”
“All right; you do it.”
“What do you think I am? A millionaire? I bought Mae a salad and an ice-cream, and I’m about broke. Lend me a half, will you? Thanks. Want an ice-cream? I’ll treat.”
“No, thanks. Have you seen Dan Whipple?”
“Sure! He’s over at the Pennsylvania booth, buying it out! Say, everything’s going great, isn’t it? Couldn’t have had a finer evening, either, what? Well, see you later. I’m hungry!” And George continued his way to the house, where Miss Tabitha, surrounded by willing and hungry helpers, presided sternly, but most capably, over the refreshments.