deal. He was a handsome boy, two years Lydia's senior; not tall for
his years, but already broad and sturdy, with crinkly black hair and
clear, black-lashed brown eyes. His face was round and ruddy under its
summer tan. His lips were full and strong--an aggressive, jolly boy,
with a quick temper and a generous heart. He and Lydia had been
friends since kindergarten days.

"I'm going to stay in the Willows all day," said Lydia. "Don't go too
fast, Kent."

"Dit-up! Dit-up, horsy!" screamed little Patience.

"Toot! Toot! Express for the Willows!" shouted Kent, mounting his
wheel, and the procession was off, the perambulator bounding madly
after the bicycle, while Patience shouted with delight and Lydia clung
desperately to the handle-bars.

The path, after a few moments, shifted to the lake shore. The water
there lapped quietly on a sandy beach, deep shaded by willows. Kent
dismounted.

"Discharge your cargo!" he cried.

"Don't be so bossy," said Lydia. "This is my party."

"All right, then I won't play with you."

"Nobody asked you to, smarty. I was going to give you my deviled egg
for lunch."