He's always-- snooping, if you'll pardon my slang."
"I wasn't looking for candy," replied Amy. "It's my handkerchief--
that new lace one; I fancied I left it in the hammock."
"Wait, I'll get up," said Betty. "Don't you dare let go, Amy. I don't
see why I'm so foolish as to wear this tight skirt. We didn't bother
with such style when we were off on our walking tour."
"Oh, blessed tour!" sighed Mollie. "I wish we could go on another
one-- to the North Pole," and she vigorously fanned herself with a
magazine cover.
Betty rose, and Amy found what she was looking for. Grace walked
slowly over the shaded lawn toward her house, at which the three chums
had gathered this beautiful-- if too warm-- July day. Betty, Amy, and
Mollie made a simultaneous dive for the hammock, and managed, all
three, to squeeze into it, with Betty in the middle.
"Oh, dear!" she cried. "This is too much! Let me out, and you girls
can have it to yourselves. Besides, I want to talk, and I can't do it
sitting down very well."
"You used to," observed Amy, smoothing out her rather crumpled dress,
and making dabs at her warm face with the newly discovered
handkerchief.
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