"Oh, that's all right, then," and Amy, who had interposed the
objection, looked relieved. She was a rather quiet girl, of the
character called "sweet" by her intimates; and truly she had the
disposition that merited the word.

"When can we start?" asked Grace Ford. Then, before an answer could be
given, she added: "Don't let's go so fast. We aren't out to make a
walking record to-day. Let's stop here in the shade a moment."

The four came to a halt beneath a great horsechestnut tree, that gave
welcome relief from the sun, which, though it was only May, still had
much of the advance hint of summer in it. There was a carriage block near
the curb, and Grace "draped herself artistically about it," as Mollie
Billette expressed it.

"If you're tired now, what will you be if we walk five or six miles a
day?" asked Betty with a smile. "Or even more, perhaps."

"Oh, I can if I have to--but I don't have to now. Come, Betty, tell us
when we are to start."

"Why, we can't decide now. Are you so anxious all of a sudden?" and Betty
pulled down and straightened the blue middy blouse that had been rumpled
by her energetic chums.

"Of course. I detest waiting--for trains or anything else. I'm just dying
to go, and I've got the cutest little traveling case. It--"

"Has a special compartment for chocolates; hasn't it, Grace?" asked