“Well,” said Ninian, “that’s what I say.  You hustle for your hat and you come along.”

For the first time this course presented itself to Lulu as a possibility.  She stared up at Ninian.

“You can slip on my linen duster, over,” Ina said graciously.

“Your new one?” Dwight incredulously wished to know.

“Oh, no!” Ina laughed at the idea.  “The old one.”

They were having to wait for Di in any case—­they always had to wait for Di—­and at last, hardly believing in her own motions, Lulu was running to make ready.  Mrs. Bett hurried to help her, but she took down the wrong things and they were both irritated.  Lulu reappeared in the linen duster and a wide hat.  There had been no time to “tighten up” her hair; she was flushed at the adventure; she had never looked so well.

They started.  Lulu, falling in with Monona, heard for the first time in her life, the step of the pursuing male, choosing to walk beside her and the little girl.  Oh, would Ina like that?  And what did Lulu care what Ina liked?  Monona, making a silly, semi-articulate observation, was enchanted to have Lulu burst into laughter and squeeze her hand.

Di contributed her bright presence, and Bobby Larkin appeared from nowhere, running, with a gigantic bag of fruit.

“Bullylujah!” he shouted, and Lulu could have shouted with him.

She sought for some utterance.  She wanted to talk with Ninian.

“I do hope we’ve brought sandwiches enough,” was all that she could get to say.

They chose a spot, that is to say Dwight Herbert chose a spot, across the river and up the shore where there was at that season a strip of warm beach.  Dwight Herbert declared himself the builder of incomparable fires, and made a bad smudge.  Ninian, who was a camper neither by birth nor by adoption, kept offering brightly to help, could think of nothing to do, and presently, bethinking himself of skipping stones, went and tried to skip them on the flowing river.  Ina cut her hand opening the condensed milk and was obliged to sit under a tree and nurse the wound.  Monona spilled all the salt and sought diligently to recover it.  So Lulu did all the work.  As for Di and Bobby, they had taken the pail and gone for water, discouraging Monona from accompanying them, discouraging her to the point of tears.  But the two were gone for so long that on their return Dwight was hungry and cross and majestic.

“Those who disregard the comfort of other people,” he enunciated, “can not expect consideration for themselves in the future.”

He did not say on what ethical tenet this dictum was based, but he delivered it with extreme authority.  Ina caught her lower lip with her teeth, dipped her head, and looked at Di.  And Monona laughed like a little demon.

As soon as Lulu had all in readiness, and cold corned beef and salad had begun their orderly progression, Dwight became the immemorial dweller in green fastnesses.  He began: