“Oh, yes!” Mildred exclaimed. “I’ll fairly haunt you from now on, for we do get a little lonely—grandfather and I. But you must all come over and see us too! Won’t you?”
“Oh, yes, very soon,” Doris answered, cordially.
“Day after tomorrow is Sunday—how about then?”
“I’ll let you know. It’s up to Dave, really. He’s so absorbed he almost forgets to eat. You see,” Doris went on, “he’s very fond of my grandfather, and wants to help all he can.”
“These grandfathers of ours!” Mildred laughed.
Half an hour later Johnny came upon Doris, standing before an easel and putting the last touches on a picture of the sea, the island, and a gorgeous sunset.
“I didn’t know you were an artist,” he said in genuine surprise.
“I’m not,” Doris frowned. “I only make a try at it. Those colors! You never can get them just right!”
“Looks swell!” Johnny said, admiringly. “Wish I could do half so well. Why don’t you try an underseascape?”
“What would that be?” Doris wrinkled her brow.