"Suppose--suppose," said Dorry Benton, who was ever cautious, "suppose,
just _suppose_ they should only have lady fingers and grape juice, or
something like that." He stood uncertain, dangling his bathing suit.
"Suppose they should have afternoon tea crackers. Did you ever eat
those?"

"They're more likely to have roast turkey," said Roy. "Don't I go up
there every couple of days and play tennis? I can't play the game even
because they're always pushing a chunk of cake into my left hand."

"I know, Roy," said Warde Hollister. He also was a far-sighted and
thoughtful boy who did his homework in the afternoon and started on New
Year's saving up for next Christmas. "But this is a lawn-party--Japanese
napkins and lettuce and things like that. We're taking an awful chance,
Roy. We may get salted almonds----"

"You should worry," said Roy; "here's your bathing suit. Come on, we've
only got about an hour. Think of the poor children of Europe. Minerva
Skybrow is positively guaranteed. I never saw such a bunch, you're
always worrying about something."

And with that, by way of starting things, he pushed Connie Bennett into
the water . . .




CHAPTER XVII

THE SCENE IS SET