"That's fair enough," George conceded here, with a nod.
Genevieve and Penny almost fell out of the car in their anxiety not to miss a point, and George quite deliberately lingered on the cross-streets, so that the damning total might be increased.
Laughing and breathless, they came to the bridge that led from the town to the open fields, and took the count.
"One hundred and two and a half!" shouted Penny and Geneviève triumphantly. George smiled over his wheel.
"Oh, women, women!" he said. "One hundred and sixty-one!" said Betty. There was a shout of protest.
"Oh, Betty Sheridan! You didn't! Why, we didn't miss one!"
"I wasn't counting candy stores," smiled Betty. "Just to be different, I counted cigar stores and saloons. But it doesn't signify much either way, does it, George?"
CHAPTER VI. BY HENRY KITCHELL WEBSTER
Of the quartette who, an hour later, emerged from the bath-houses and scampered across the satiny beech into a discreetly playful surf, Genevieve was the one real swimmer. She was better even than Penny, and she left Betty and George nowhere.