"Oh, sure!" said Walter. "Year ago come October Si Hinkle an' I, we went
to the city for the day with the gals we was buzzin' then an' we bought
'em each an ice-cream sody."

"Did you have to go to the city to do that?" said Dolly.

"Sure! Ain't no place nigher'n that. Over to Deer Crossin' there's a man
has lemon pop in bottles sometimes, but he ain't got no founting like we
saw in the city, nor no ice-cream, neither."

Dolly was a picture of woe and disappointment.

"Tell yer what, though," said Walter, bashfully. "Saturday night there's
a goin' to be an ice-cream festival over to the Methodist Church at the
Crossing, an' I'm aimin' ter go, though my folks is Baptists. I'll treat
yer to a plate of ice-cream over there."

"Will you, really?" said Dolly, brightening up and looking as pleased as
if the ice-cream soda she wanted so much had suddenly been set down
before her in the field.

"I sure will," said Walter, hugely pleased. "Say, they play all sorts of
games over there--forfeits an' post office an'--"

Bessie had to laugh at Dolly's look of mystification.

"Come on, Dolly," she said. "We mustn't keep Walter from his work or
he'll be getting into trouble. We can see him again some time when he
isn't so busy." And as they walked off she told Dolly about the country
games the boy had spoken of--games in which kissing played a large part.