"But her toilet bag is at the farmhouse. And, anyway, I could easily
lend her pajamas."

"She could never get into a suit of yours, you know very well, Ruth
Fielding!" exclaimed Helen.

"I'd get one of Uncle Jabez's long flannel nightgowns for her, then,"
giggled Ruth.

"Look here! I don't seem to be in such great favor with either of you,
after all," interposed the plump girl. "One would think I was a freak.
And I prefer my own night apparel in any case."

"Then you'll come home with me," Helen announced.

"But I have things at Ruth's house, just as she says," said Jennie.

At the moment the car wheeled around the turn in the road and Helen
stopped it at the gate before the old, shingled farmhouse which was
connected by a passage with the grist mill. A light flashed in the
window and at once the place looked very inviting. A door opened upon
the side porch, and to the girls' nostrils was wafted a most delicious
odor of frying cakes.

"That settles it!" ejaculated Jennie Stone, and immediately sprang out
of the car. "I'm as hungry as a bear. I'll see you to-morrow, Nell, if
you'll ride over. But don't come too near mealtime. I never could
withstand Aunt Alvirah's cooking. M-mm! Griddle-cakes--with lashin's of
butter and sugar on 'em, I wager."