"Curtin Harbor!" exclaims the farmer, with his eyes still full of mute amazement. "No, it's not. 'T any rate not the direct one. If you've come over from Harwich, you've gone two miles out of yer way. You should have taken the other road, back there by the old school-house."
"Dar's whar I missed it!" cries Joe, slapping his knee. "I was suah I did sumfin' wrong somewhar, but I couldn't locate it, to save me! I'se much obliged."
"You can cut across to the main road by crossing my field yonder and going up by the house just beyond——"
"Hi, den dere is a house over yar!" says Joe.
"Why, certainly," says the farmer, "not more than forty rods from here." And when Joe finds how very near he has been to a comfortable farmhouse he says he feels "like kickin' hisself."
"But," says the visitor, still eying the camp. "How did it all happen. Are you traveling on foot?"
"No, sar; on tricycles," explains Joe, proudly; "we are de Girls' Tricycle Club, all de way from Sherridoc, wid Mas'r Starrett an' me along to look arter 'em and see 'em safe down to Curtin Harbor. We los' de track back yondah, an' de young gemman an' I jes' rig up dis tent for to keep the young ladies dry an' gib 'em a chance to rest till de shower was ober."
The farmer's surprise grows to interest.
"And so this is a tricycle," he says. "And did the young ladies ride those things all the way from Sherridoc?"
"All de way, sar," answers Joe, proudly, "'cept when we wus stuck in de Sandywiches and had to be carted froo wid a team."